That gets a groan out of you. “Ughhhhh… what is with Striders and their dedication to this beat-down beat-around the bush poppycock nonsense! I swear!” You give the snow a frustrated kick before rising to your feet and dusting yourself off. Ow ow buggering hell everything stings now that the adrenaline is drying out.
“Well then movie man, here’s a film pitch. Not that I expect you to believe any of it.” You rub your nose with your sleeve, not pleased with the pullback and how red it is. Dammit, you’ve stained the coat you borrowed from Dirk. “Once upon a time in another universe, there was another you. A movie-maker, creator of the Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff theater experience. A delightful cinematic set of masterpieces designed to covertly warn the people of the tightening grip of the batterwitch. The you of another universe was a hero, the one who stood up against the Hilaricaust ontop the white house before riding off into the sky…never to be seen again.”
You fold your arms, and look at him.
“But more than the legacy he left behind, he left a younger brother. Alone, in a flooded apartment building…in the shadow of a legend. A legend who sacrificed his life to be the last stand against the batterwitch herself. Or so everyone thought…so he thought. Me too I suppose.”
Shaking your head you sigh. “I came here because I’m not from here. I’m from that other universe and I’m going back soon. I’m here to get my best friend back before I go. But ever since he found out you’re here, he’s had it in his head that you may be his brother. This “legend”. And he’s willing to risk being trapped in this snowy concrete jungle for the rest of his life to find out…so that’s why I’m here. To find out for him. If this sounds like I’m trying to sell you a dog then by jove my deepest apologies and I’ll blue skidoo begone for good. All I want is one solid answer to give him so we can be on our merry way.”
And maybe a handkerchief for your nose, but you aren’t going to ask that.
Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff... haha, that’s funny. If you are from another universe, that is at least one thing you’ve carried along with you. It’s a childhood memory, after all. And it was always your dream to turn your shit drawings into a big screen movie for the masses. Hell, you have tats of the characters.
Maybe, you think, it’s pretty shitty that you remember these dumbass characters but you can’t seem to remember having a brother. But you’ve got an inkling you know who this brother is.
“Cool story, bro,” you tell Jake, “Sounds like this guy was willing to give up everything to save as many people as possible. That’s what they call a tragic hero in the book biz.”
With a heavy sigh, you hesitantly pluck your note-to-self from your breast pocket. Always on hand, well worn from all the opening and reading and folding back up... You unfold it and show it to Jake, careful to keep it just out his reach. You don’t trust him that much.
“I’m guessin’ this friend of yours is named Dirk. And he might be that weird kid that tried to ask me out for drinks...? Woulda had a better shot if he was just upfront from the start. But see, this Dave you’re talkin’ about? He was made of stronger stuff than me. He gave up everything giving it his best shot. Me? I couldn’t give it my all and I was so desperate not to lose everything that I tried to fuck with time to fix it. Lost it all, anyway.”
You point to the last line in your letter. ‘Find Dirk.’
“If I had a brother, and his name was Dirk, I didn’t wanna lose him. In a last ditch effort towards whatever the fuck I was doing, I tried to make sure the dipshit that is my current self knew that ‘Dirk’ was this all-important person I absolutely needed to find. So. Again. If you’re looking for some asshole who decided to kick back and have a timeline cruise, sippin’ Shirley Temples with a Hawaiian shirt and some flip-flops who don’t give a fuck about nobody but himself and his legacy, then you’ve got the wrong guy.”
