---

Galaxy Pancakes restaurant dripped in the colors of outer space. The booth seats were pink and green faux leather, the tabletops had a see-through resin and underneath were all sorts of space trinkets. Moon-flavored light shades cradled bright white bulbs; gas giants were fashioned into stool tops. A person would step into black holes to use the restrooms. Wait staff wore uniforms with all the colors of a supernova and plenty of pieces of flair. Their faces were painted up to look like aliens, a variety of species at that.

Paul and Josiah sat at the counter sipping hot coffee as they waited for their food.

“Hey. Look over there,” Paul said, and he pointed with his eyes.

Josiah turned to his side to look. “Well, well. Is that the State Farm guy?”

“One of them,” Paul answered. “Check out his red shirt and tan pants.”

“Shit,” Josiah said. “You’d never catch me in a get up like that. No corporate entity will ever use my body as a billboard and parade me around like some buffoon scraping the floor for pocket change while they get rich… And besides I got a beef with them.”

“Oh yeah. Over what?”

“Shitty customer service and the fact they canceled my home policy after a couple of claims,” Josiah said. “They also over billed me for my car insurance for a year due to some mix up on their part and expected me to pay 1900 dollars in one fell swoop to keep my policy intact, and they weren’t nice about it.”

“Wow. This sounds like a negative, downbeat commercial,” Paul said as he laughed. “It’s nothing to dance to.”

Josiah rolled his eyes and grumbled at Paul. “I’m telling you the truth. They pay that Patrick Mahomes fellow millions to be in all these god damn commercials. Then a guy like me has his house broken into twice, and State Farm acts like shelling out a few thousand for my damage, damage that was not my fault mind you, is a villainous violation on my part. I mean, shit, that’s what insurance is for! I paid my premiums on time, all the time. It’s nothing but a scam so these upper crusties can buy another yacht and another mansion and another fancy car and another penthouse apartment for one of their bimbo mistresses with unintelligent breasts. And all along, all Josiah Peppercorn wanted was a couple of new doors and a window! The shame!”

“Wow. You’re getting kind of worked up about this.”

Josiah leaned back and studied the young man. “There really is something different about you lately.”

“What?”

“You seem so less ethereal and studious than you usually are.”

“Less ethereal and studious? I mean, I have been trying to relax more and not take everything so seriously.”

“Are you a Starman?” Josiah asked. He looked around the bizarre restaurant. “Is that why you picked this place? To feel more at home?”

It was then that a woman shaped like a shaved potato and stuffed into denim shorts and a tangerine-colored tube top dropped some coins into the jukebox they had there, and David Bowie’s Space Oddity came seeping out like a druid-flavored rainbow. People softly applauded, even the State Farm guy who seemed like the type that would lack any decent taste in music. He was just there, sitting in a wooden square, selling his body as a corporate prostitute.

That’s when Josiah called out to him over the music. “Hey, State Farm guy.”

The man smiled and waved. “Hello.”

“Shouldn’t you be out on the street corner?”

“Well, no. I work in an office building right around the corner. Why would you think I should be out on a street corner?”

“Because you’re an insurance whore!”

The man’s face disintegrated into disgust at Josiah’s words.

Paul clamped his hand on Josiah’s shoulder. “Hey, man. What the hell are you doing? That was rude.”

Josiah waved a floppy hand at the greasy air. “Eh.”

“I think you should go apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“Yes. You’re trying to turn over a new leaf. Remember? The price of your freedom. No more bitching at State Farm guys.”

Josiah took a deep breath and sprayed it out between his teeth. He sounded like a snake. He slapped the countertop. “All right. All right.”

Josiah went over to where the State Farm guy was sitting and cleared his throat. The man looked up stoically. “Can I help you?”

“I, um, just wanted to say I was sorry for that angry little outburst I had back there. See, truth be told, I just got out of jail and I’m a bit pissed off. I’m sure you can understand.”

“No. I can’t. I’ve never been to jail.”

“Well, just the same, I’m sorry about those things I said, and I hope you can forgive me.”

The State Farm guy was chewing his food with attitude. He took a napkin and wiped at his mouth. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “But may I suggest that the next time you want to blurt out something stupid and hurtful to a complete stranger, how about you don’t.” The man briskly stood up and threw some cash down on the table. “I’ll be going now. I hope you have a nice rest of your day. And if you are ever in need of some insurance…” He whipped out a business card and handed it to Josiah. “Give me a call.”

Josiah looked at the card. “Bergen Baystone?” And it showed his picture. A grinning, snippety idiot with a bristled head and a lone blonde moustache trimmed too neatly. He was wearing the familiar red shirt. Josiah crumpled the card in his hand and dropped it on the table.

---

From where she was, Serena could look up and see the moon. It was so close she felt as if she could reach out and touch it. But then she wondered about alien burns.

The cerulean rabbit had placed her and Reverend Savior up in a tree and tied them to it. Each was sitting on a large branch opposite each other. The thick trunk was between them and a rope had been wrapped around Serena and the reverend and the trunk to keep them bound tight.  

The reverend was moaning and crying.

“Are you okay over there?” Serena asked.

“No!” he wailed. “Look at us up here. We’ll never get out of this conundrum. Someone will find our bones dangling from this very tree next spring.”

Serena worried about that very thing but tried not to show her fear. “That’s not true. Someone will find us soon enough. Think about it. He didn’t gag our mouths. We can yell for help.”

The reverend scoffed. “Yell to who? We’re in the middle of a forest.”

“People take hikes.”

The answer wasn’t good enough for the reverend. He tried breaking free from the bond, but it was seemingly impossible. He was very frustrated. “We’re prey. That thing will come back to eat us. We’re doomed, young one.”

Serena frowned and didn’t reply. The night air was growing cooler, and she shivered. She couldn’t even hold her own body to try and keep warm. Deep down inside she knew the reverend was probably right. “What was it?” she finally asked. They had been too silent about the whole ordeal.

“An abomination,” the reverend answered. “A demon of the woods.”

“Why don’t you try praying to help get us out of this unfortunate situation?” Serena suggested.

“Praying?”

“Yes. Isn’t that what you do. Hello? God will save us. Maybe.”

“Or this could just be his plan for us,” the reverend sighed. “But I’ll give it a shot.” The reverend clamped his eyes shut and talked to God within his own mind and soul. When he opened his eyes and looked around, nothing had changed.

---

Paul pulled into a parking space at the hospital and shut the stolen car down. He looked over at Josiah, who seemed nervous. “I’m going in to visit Sarrah,” he told him.

Josiah wanted to immediately protest but quickly relented. He knew life was different now and that he had better learn to adjust to the new ways. “Okay,” he mumbled, staring out the windshield. “Tell her I’m so sorry.”

Paul started to get out of the car. “Maybe,” he said before shutting the door and walking away.

Once inside, Paul stopped at the hospital gift shop and bought a bouquet of fresh flowers. Then he went to sit in an empty corner in a random waiting room to think about things. He needed to re-energize his powers with some rest and meditation. He sat down and smelled the flowers. They were nice, he thought. She should like them. He closed his eyes, leaned back, and went on a momentary, yet everlasting, mind trip.

---

Bergen Baystone went into a stall in the men’s restroom at his office around the corner from Galaxy Pancakes and masturbated. When he was done, he sat there on the toilet trying to catch his breath. “That was a good one,” he said quietly to himself. He looked at the walls of the stall and reached out to touch where he had written in black Sharpie ink: For a good time, see Beverly in accounting. He laughed about it. “Oh, Beverly,” he sighed. She was the one he was thinking about when he was polishing the banister. “I know I creep you out, but damn, baby. You are hot.” Somebody else came into the restroom and Bergen clamped his mouth shut. How embarrassing it would be if anyone ever caught him talking to himself about Beverly.

After he cleaned up, Bergen Baystone went out and strolled through the arena of desks occupied by other people in red shirts and tan pants. It looked like a sea of blood and sand to him with heads bobbing around at the surface beneath the blaring lights. Before he went to his own desk, Bergen went by the accounting section to see if Beverly might want to finally go out to lunch with him. She was at her workstation typing and looking at her computer. He sat down in a chair beside her desk as she worked. She noticed him there and sighed deep inside.

“Hello, Bergen,” she managed to say. “Is there something I could do for you this morning? Paycheck problems?”

He thought her voice was like velvet or a buttery croissant. He loved to watch her mouth as she spoke. Beverly’s face was pristine. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup which Bergen liked. Just a little touch here and there. Her blonde hair was pulled back off her face and made up nice in the back. Bergen liked that. He also thought her glasses made her look like a sexy librarian. Her eyes resembled cerulean pools on a distant planet. Beverly wasn’t a real librarian, but she wanted to be. She used to work as a pharmacy technician at a hospital, but her lazy, ignorant, nasty ass co-workers became too much, and she quit.

Bergen tapped his fingertips on her desk. “No paycheck problems,” he said.

She became annoyed as he sat there and stared at her. “Don’t you have work to do?” Beverly finally asked.

“Yes, I do. I just wanted to pop by, say hello, and ask if you’d like to go out to lunch with me today.”

Beverly opened a drawer and pulled out a large plastic baggie and showed it to him. It contained a sandwich, banana, oat bar, and a juice box of some sort. “I brought my lunch,” she said, and returned the baggie to her drawer.

“Oh,” Bergen said. “Maybe we can hang out in the breakroom when you eat. I could go grab something and bring it back.”

“I think I might eat at the park today,” she quickly replied.

Bergen brightened. “Even better! I love the park.”

She reached out a hand and placed it on top of his to make him stop tapping his nervous fingers. “Look,” she said. “You’re a nice guy, Bergen, but I’m just not interested in you in that way. I’m sorry, but it makes me uncomfortable.”

Dejected, Bergen pulled his hand away. “I see. And what way is that?” he wanted to know.

Beverly sighed and bit at her lip before speaking. “Romantically,” she breathed quietly. “I’m not ready for a relationship right now.”

Bergen nodded his head in faux understanding. He suddenly stood up. He stared at her for a few moments and then walked off without another word.

He went and sat down at his own desk and fired up his workstation, the taste of bitter rejection still simmering in his mouth. He strapped a headset to his scrabbly yet clean-cut head. He fingered his moustache, and started going through some files on his desktop, but then stopped. He picked up a pencil and held it between his fingers. He was thinking about Beverly and the man at Galaxy Pancakes who had verbally assaulted him earlier. He shook, gritted his teeth. “Why do people suck so much,” he said quietly to himself. The pencil snapped.

Someone suddenly came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey Bergen, how are you today?” The man tried to look over what Bergen Baystone was doing at his desk. He was checking to see if he was doing his work duties or just messing around on Facebook.

Bergen Baystone turned to look up at his boss, a grinning, fake fool in a red shirt and tan pants. But he was also wearing a tan suit coat to signify that he was management. His cologne was heavy and nauseating. “Fine. Just getting fired up for my day,” Bergen answered.

His boss patted him on the shoulder. “Good man,” he said, and then he strolled over to where Beverly in accounting was working. Bergen watched from a distance as he sat on the edge of her desk. They started talking and laughing. His boss reached out and playfully touched her hair. Bergen suddenly felt sick, and he ran to the restroom to throw up.

Sign up above for free to get notifications of new posts and news about upcoming book projects, including an expansion of Canned Rabbit Magic into a novella. Thanks for reading and signing up.