TheGeneral&TheAdmiral wanted to meet at the bar at Applebee’s.
Applebee’s is a restaurant found in every city in America about having the most average food possible. Often in Suburban areas they do not have real bars, and Applebee’s is the closest thing to one.
I didn’t even shower first, I just left on my Wedding Uniform cuz even tho it had a little Travel stink on it, the Professor-like tweed jacket still gave me the best chance of getting taken seriously. When I got out to Wings I was hoping The Goddess of Faith was gonna be there waiting, but she wasn’t. I guessed it wasn’t the right key moment yet, and I hadta go to Applebee’s by myself.
TheGeneral&TheAdmiral were already there sitting at the bar. The General was wearing a suit and tie Adult Uniform, and The Admiral was wearing some kind of workman’s jumpsuit Adult Uniform. They looked like they’d just come from their jobs even tho it was the middle of a long holiday weekend. The Admiral laughed as soon as he saw me.
“Hahaha,” he said, “what are you wearing, Hippie Dippie?”
I looked down.
“You mean my jacket?” I asked.
“Hahaha,” he said, “hippie jacket.”
“What are you talking about? This jacket was very respected at the Wedding I went to yesterday.”
“Hahaha, why’s it got a sticker on it?”
I quickly covered it with my hand, so he couldn’t read it.
“Easy, Admiral,” The General said. “Let him sit down at least before you start busting balls.”
“Thanks,” I said and took a stool next to them.
“So where are you living these days?” The General asked.
“Where-ThePlains-Meet-TheMountains,” I said.
“Hahaha,” The Admiral said. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s many states west of here,” I said.
“So when did you fly in?” The General asked.
“I didn’t,” I said. “I drove.”
“Hahaha,” The Admiral said, “but you don’t know how to drive.”
“I do now.”
“Hahaha, but you didn’t at as-soon-as-you-were-16 like you were supposed to.”
Then The Bartender came over and asked what I wanted. I noticed TheGeneral&TheAdmiral were drinking beers, and even tho I didn’t like it I knew we hadta be in Common Perception, so I got one, too.
“Let’s do a toast,” I said.
“Nah,” they said. “We don’t do toasts.”
“Whatever,” I said and hadta say “GAM-BAY” quietly to myself.
ThenGeneral&TheAdmiral started catching me up on what they were doing in life. The General worked at an office that designed rubber for weapons, and he was making a lot of money. The Admiral worked at a factory that made rubber for weapons, and he didn’t make as much money but still a lot more than me. Then it was time for me to tell them what I was doing in life, but I wasn’t quite sure how to do it.
“Hahaha,” The Admiral said. “I know what Hippie Dippie’s doing. He’s The Bluebird, a MusicMan Reality Traveler who flies to all Realities and sings to them.”
“How did you know that?” I said.
“Hahaha, why are you wearing a sticker?”
“Sounds like nonsense words,” The General said. “What does ‘Reality Traveler’ mean?”
Then I didn’t know what else to do but try to explain.
“A Reality Traveler,” I sighed,“is chosen by The Gods to Travel to as many Realities as possible and prevent War by MeTooing them.”
“Hahaha,” The Admiral said. “Hippie Dippie did become a hippie!”
“No surprise,” The General said.
“Hahaha, The Admiral said, “peace, man.”
And then he mockingly held two fingers in the air like a Golden Age Reality Traveler.
“I’m just curious,” The General said. “Who’s paying you for this Reality Traveling?”
“No one,” I said. “I do it for free.”
“Then what do you do for money?”
“I deliver pizza.”
“Hahaha,” The Admiral said, “but you can’t drive!”
“I can now!”
“So a Reality Traveler is called upon by The Gods to stop War,” The General said.
“Yes,” I said.
“There are so many flaws in this, where do I begin? First, War is necessary. According to you we were supposed to just let The Axis Powers win World War II?”
“We should’ve MeToo’d them,” I said. “Focused on what we had in common.”
“What do you mean? You think we could have stopped the War just by agreeing we both like sauerkraut or sushi? That’s ridiculous. We had to annihilate them or else they would’ve annihilated us.”
“But The Great MeNotzie Army wouldn’t have even formed if at the end of the First Great Reality War the winning Realities hadn’t blamed the losing Realities for totally starting the War. They needed to say the Eleventh Hour MeToo that they were all being MeNotzies. Instead it just made the losers feel more different and alone and afraid of all the other Realities around them.”
“Let’s say that’s true. How are you personally going to stop War. As we’ve easily predicted, you are not in any kind of influential position in the U.S. government.”
“War is happening all the time in little ways tho. Just Realities arguing and making fun of each other and wanting each other to change.”
“How can you possibly stop that?”
“Every Reality Traveler has a MeToo Specialty and mine is The Great List of Old Songs.”
“Hahaha,” The Admiral said, “Sunday Bloody Sunday!”
“How is a song going to help someone if they’re getting robbed or raped or murdered by some psycho?” The General said.
“Maybe if someone had MeToo’d them earlier about a song, they wouldn’t feel like doing that stuff,” I said.
“What if you can’t find a song you both MeToo?”
“There’s always gotta be at least one song.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that the only songs you know are the ones you heard on The Radio as a kid. How could you ever MeToo an inner city black guy or a foreigner or someone much older or younger? One day in the future only a few people will ever have even heard of your favorite songs.”
“Then maybe I’ll start my own band and always be writing new songs Realities can MeToo.”
“What about people like me and The Admiral who don’t even listen to songs?”
“Then maybe I’ll write a book about trying to MeToo about music, and readers will at least MeToo about that.”
“How will you get us to read it? We only read books about War.”
“Fine, if all else fails, there’s always Alcohol.”
“Hahaha,” The Admiral said, “I can actually MeToo that.”
“I’d still go to War with someone I drank with,” The General said. “They’d let their guard down, and then I’d strike.”
“Or maybe your guard would be down, and you’d be easier to MeToo,” I said.
“How about we test this out then. We’ll get drunk together tonight, and we’ll see whether we MeToo or go to War.”
The General was about to order another round, but I stopped him and told him about The Stash.
“There’s still enough to get half a Wedding drunk,” I said, “and the best part is it’s free.”
“On my salary I can afford to drink all night at Applebee’s,” The General said, “but I can see how a pizza delivery driver would need that kind of break.”
“Hahaha,” The Admiral said, “minimum wage.”
Then they agreed to just go back to their apartment they called The Barracks and drink The Stash there.
“Only thing is there’s no mixers,” I said.
“We don’t use mixers,” The General said.
“Hahaha,” The Admiral said, “what about Red?”
“Oh yes,” The General said, “our friend Red is supposed to hang out with us tonight, and she’ll need her cranberry juice.”
Then he started giving us orders.
“Hippie Dippie since you apparently can’t handle your alcohol straight, you drive to the nearby gas station and get your mixer plus cranberry for Red. Admiral you go with him to make sure he doesn’t screw up. We’ll rendezvous back at The Barracks when your mission is complete.”
“Alright,” I said.
“Hahaha,” The Admiral said when we got in Wings. “I hope we don’t crash.”
“Dammit, I’m telling you Admiral, I can drive now!”