Well, I'm back. This time I've got some semblance of a plot. As Freak falls asleep, we enter the chapters where he is dreaming, these get kinda weird. The waking world is intentionally grim, and full of failure for Freak. Intro. Dim room. Music, painful to listen to, was wafting around the smoke. The entire bar, caked in a fine layer of grease. The musicians played lazily, as if they were simply a loathsome pile of fat men with nothing to do than have a Twinkie eating race. For the most part, they were. Except for one, the skinniest, greasiest, and least talented of the bunch. Putting down his saxophone every now and then to shriek about the failures of the other band members, how it was always someone else’s fault. The man looked like a pig, wore his party in the back, and smelled like shit. Called himself “Freak.” One good decision later. “Who the fuck was it that replaced me!” The Pig Freak harped at a fat pile, as it slinked toward him. “I don‘t know his name, but he‘s pretty. I hired him because he’s talented. He’s a pro. It’s like he has sex with the sax.” The fat-man chuckled at how witty he was. “And it can’t hurt to have some a little more… uh…” “A little more what? Pretty? Lamar, I’m the prettiest you can afford to hire.” He wasn’t. Lamar winced at this lie. “You’re not talented, though. We need a guy that can play well enough so that the other guys don’t attract attention. The bar’s going under any day now, and we need all the talent we can get. Besides, it’s not like they’re gonna miss you.” “Fuck you!” Freak screamed as he stormed out, tears in his eyes. He’d been evicted out of his apartment, his girlfriend got laser eye surgery, then he was kicked out of a pack of dogs because he wasn’t good enough. “I’ll find a cave. Live there ‘till I die. Coming out only when I have a great song to show off. That’ll show them.” He thought as he wandered the streets in a stupor of rage and hatred. The last time he made a promise to himself was when he said he wouldn’t send any more poison muffins to people until he was rich enough to pay for it. The resulting jazz group had their last concert firebombed after they renounced their instruments, in favor of beat boxing. After hours of wandering the city and nearby woods, he found a cave. No more then a hole in the ground with a lid. “Fall asleep, wake up in a million years or so…” He said to himself, more to soothe his rage then anything. “Maybe I’m not that good. At anything… Nah! They’re just jealous.” This stunning conclusion was followed almost immediately by the sweet relief of Dreamland… Chapter One. Dreamland. Population: 10001110101 The misty highlands were a strange place. Corpses walking out of tombs complaining to local barons about how they wouldn‘t have allowed this to happen. Strange wizards appearing, clearly the cause of the walking corpses. New knights were appearing out of nowhere. Walking out of the woods as if they just sprang out of holes in the ground. Their ideas and language was too romanticized for them not to be frauds. And this new, “Freak,” character the worst of the bunch, tramping around with that damned bard of his. He’d already declared war on three people, attempted to levy a tax on large pants, and barraged a town with lutes which killed a man, and were thrown out of a different town for violently singing poetry to women. The highlands were quickly becoming a dangerous place. “Hah!” Freak let out a hearty laugh. “I think it’s high time that we took care of those fish people that have been insulting my horse.” “Senor, I think you mean the donkey you stole.” Said Poncho, the fat friar. “Hold you tongue, Poncho! Or else you’ll never see your eyes again.” Freak declared in disgust. “I once had a donkey, but alas! His hooves could not walk the clouds of love!” Sang the Bard. Freak bolted around in his saddle: “Hah! Sing again the dashing tales of the Wandering Freak.” They continued on the path to Nowhere with the Bard singing of the encounter with Ye Olde Douche Bag, and how Freak defeated him. As they walked the path the forest they saw a river, the sun shone a stone bridge over the river “I wish I had gills.” Said Berry the shoe. “If I were a man with gills I would be a fish!” The Bard declared. “Halt all ye poets!” A mysterious voice shouted. “All ye who pass, must pay tribute.” “I pay no tribute to disembodied voices!” Freak shouted indignantly. “Then I shall reveal myself and receive my tribute.” Suddenly a strange creature stepped out from under the bridge. “What creature thus challenges me? Be a fish, or bird, or man? Perhaps a flower? Seriously? This is weird. “I am Barbarossa the fish God! And I have come for your souls!” Said the thing that was ugly. “Why do we have to give you our souls AND a tribute?” Said the Bard. “We don’t! Kill him!” Said Freak as they charged forward and beat him to death. “Why did you do that?” Berry asked, shocked at the barbarity. “I’m not sure if I should hang out with you guys if you’re running around whoopin’ ass…” “Come on Berry!” Freak said, slyly. “You’re the life of the group, without you I’m stuck with a pretty cool bard, and a fat monk. Don’t be that way.” “Senor, I believe that Berry should be allowed to leave. This group is a democracy, after all.” Poncho said in his broken English. “You’re right… Berry, I hope we can meet each other again. Maybe when you’ve seen the true face of the world.” Said Freak disappointingly. "I doubt it. I'm going to my Mom's house!" Berry muttered. As they watched Berry walk over the horizon, Freak muttered to himself. "I didn't even know shoes had moms..." He sobbed. "Asshole!" Berry shouted. Freak noted shoes had good hearing as he slumped in his saddle... I think the ending dream sequence ended a little too darkly, but I'll refine it later on.
