I met Jane that evening after the <redacted> concert. We had arranged to meet at the west doors afterwards to avoid the crowds. She appeared at the door looking a little disoriented and scratching her head. She saw me, smiled, and waved.
“Knocking! Someone’s at the door. Just like at that <redacted> concert,” muttered David as he strode off in the direction of the door. Hizz turned to me with a look of surprise.
“I went to that concert!”
“Oh really! You too! So what did _you_ think of the music?”
“I found it made me itchy. In a… sideways way. Like a fish.”
“Jane said it made her feel…”
“Hoy, protagonist, you’re needed over here.”
“The bathroom inspector person is here.”
“Oh good! Hello!” I waved to the tradie who entered the room. “Hi I’m the protagonist. You’re here to check out the bathroom glue hole, right?
~much later, inside a tree~
The tree creaked around us. The dim light quivered as the wind howled around the trunk and through the leaves, far above. I drew my jacket in closer to myself to stave off the chill. I looked up the vast stairway, rising to the heavens.
“Do they feel the wind up there?”
“No,” said our guide. “It’s like you’re fixed in place and it’s just everything around you moves instead. It can be a little disconcerting at first. And at second. Really, it is a bit weird. Like the special effects at a concert I went to once.”
“Oh! Not the <redacted> concert by any chance?”
“Ha! Yep that’s the one. last year. Yeah. Very juicy, that concert. Very very juicy indeed. Made me think of buses. Oh look, here’s your friend.”
Hizz bumbled up, looking over his shoulder, as though he thought he was being followed. He was carrying an old, rusty bucket.
“I got us some ice cream!”
Our guide raised an eyebrow.
“Sometimes I feel like a signpost,” said Jane. I considered for a moment before responding.
“Do you mean, like, you feel like you’re pointing to something bigger and better in life and people follow your directions but you never get there yourself?”
Jane responded instantly.
“Oh no nothing like that.”
“It’s just my t-shirt has this big picture of a stop sign on it.”
“Also, while I remember, I visited Hizz at the hospital.”
“Oh yes! He’s been unwell. How is he?”
“He’s good now! He was very lucky. They removed an earworm from his nose. Apparently it had been gestating there for a long time.”
“An earworm? Where did he pick that up?”
“No idea, but they’ve sent it for analysis and they should have the results next week.”
“Ok then! Well, keep me in the loop!”
~next week, at the hospital~
Hizz ripped opened the envelope and read the test results.
“Jeez why is everything redacted these days? And what’s this? An ice cream infection??”
Any resemblance to actual music groups named <redacted> is purely coincidental. I have done exactly zero research on this.
