The next morning I woke up, and I was in La Renarde’s car, and we were already Hitting The Road back to Ohio. My face and clothes were covered with crusty dried puke.
“I’m not stopping once,” she said. “Not even if you have to puke again.”
The motion of the car was making me very sick tho.
“Where should I puke then?” I asked.
“Fuck, I don’t know. Just hold it in.”
Then I found her Road-pillow, which she said every good Traveler needed. I took the case off it and puked in that.
“Gross!” she said.
I knew she didn’t like it, but I couldn’t help puking in it over and over.
“This is so not Reality Travel,” she said. “You were so not Reality Travel last night.”
“A real Reality Traveler like Fucking Punk can drink all they want and MeToo a million New Realities and never even think about puking.”
“I’ve never drank before.”
“Gods, you’re such an amateur.”
The rest of the trip I kept puking, and La Renarde didn’t say anything else until we got back to my house.
“Just so you know, I’m not going to kiss you anymore,” she said.
“Oh,” I said.
“And you can just keep the pillow case.”
Then I took the case and went inside and went straight to my bed and cried.
“I hafta become a Great Reality Traveler,” I said to myself.
And that’s when I was sure I was supposta be one. Every Reality Traveler is Called Upon by the Gods in a different way. Sometimes The Calling is received in this way.