Yeein' On That 'Haw

A Hot Cup O' Joe

 Before I knew it, I was seated at Norm's disheveled table, ceramic mug in-hand. The hot liquid inside was quickly heating up the material, making it almost painful to hold.

"I wasn't expecting you to have instant coffee on-hand, Norm," I commented inquisitively. He shrugged, collecting his own mug from the small counter opposite me and leaning up against it. I noticed how he didn't sit down. "Pays t' 'ave somethin' hot on ya when it gets cold." He used his free hand to gesture to the miniscule stove against the far wall. "That thing is my only source o' heat in the winter." He turned his head to the side in the general direction of the front door. "Got the coffee from some crippled feller who wanted to gimme a 'housewarmin' gift.'" He performed air quotes. "Scared 'im off right quick."

"Huh. So you've been out here for a while, then?" I tilted my head in his direction, choosing to ignore the fact that he presumably pointed a shotgun at a disabled man. And the fact that the disabled man was probably Jerry. Poor guy.

Norm nodded– almost solemnly. "That's right. Been out 'ere goin' on three years." He lifted his mug to where I assumed his lips were, paused when he remembered the bag on his head, then lowered the mug once more. Ha. Idiot.

Not like I wanted to drink it myself. Since I got there, I'd hated how the people there absorbed nutrients. Sure, we ate, but I wouldn't call it 'eating,' in the sense of there was a slot in the base of my head that I shoved food into and called it a day. I couldn't even really taste it. Man, I missed actually tasting things. There was a vague essence of flavor in things, and I could still sense textures, but that was it.

I hummed in acknowledgement. "I assume that Mayor Mingus has some involvement in you being sequestered in an abandoned shack in the woods."

Norm's grip tightened on his mug. "Ya'd be assumin' correctly, pardner. That dastardly feline thought it'd be easier t' exile me than t' deal with me properly."

If I had eyebrows, they would have lifted at that moment. "Mingus exiled you? I didn't think she did things like that... or that she had the power to do things like that." I paused to take a steadying breath. "I mean, I can't say I'm surprised. It's pretty obvious that she's one corrupt kitty-cat."

He scoffed. "Ya can say that again. I swear t' all the powers that be, once I git my hands on that furry little–"

"Woah!" I interrupted him, holding up a finger. "Don't finish that sentence. Lemme guess. You're some kind of ruthless avenger who wants to heal his broken pride and compensate for his lack of action by unnecessarily harming those who have wronged you."

He fell into stunned silence. I realized I hit it right on the money and winced. Or I would have, if I had a face.

Norm cleared his throat. "...I suppose y' could say that," he mumbled in a meek voice.

"Ah, shit, dude, who am I to judge?" I leaned back in my chair and made a wide gesture with my arms. "I can understand why you would want her dead. She's a corrupt politician who nobody seems to realize is corrupt. Not even that weirdly self-aware guy who lives in a dumpster knows what's going on with her." I paused. "Wait... why did Mingus exile you?"

The yeehaw man didn't answer for a concerningly long time. He only stared at me, as if he were sizing me up. I could feel myself becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

"Are ya stupid er what?" He finally resumed speaking, causing me to deflate in a mixture of relief and shame. "It's cuz I 'ave a head. A normal one, not some..." He pointed with an open palm toward my rotary head. "Plastic box."

I felt my muscles tense at that comment. I couldn't blame him for thinking that I have had this thing for a head since I was an infant. But... it still kind of hurt.

"...Right," I avoided his gaze for a moment out of discomfort. "So, you're out here because Mingus doesn't like people with flesh-heads. That feels almost sort of racist. Classist?... Dial-ist?" I shook my head, hearing the various components rattling about inside. Then I paused. "How do you have a flesh-head in the first place? I thought people around here got their heads replaced when they were babies?"

His sticky note face raised an eyebrow at my phrasing. "It's a long story," he didn't comment on how I was speaking like I was a foreigner in a new country.

"Well, do I have some good news for you, Mr. Space Cowboy!" I set my mug down on the table, making a soft clattering noise. I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees. "We quite literally have all night."

Norm stared at me for a long, awkward moment, sticky note displaying a reluctant, narrow-eyed stare. I heard him take a breath before sighing "Fine."

"Yes! Okie-dokie, space-man, what's the haps?" I leaned forward even further to the point where I was almost falling out of my chair.

"Never ask me what th' 'haps' are again." He pointed a finger in my direction. "And quit leanin' like that. Yer gonn' git yerself killed." I did as he said. I wasn't going to die before I heard this story.

Norm took a moment to organize his thoughts before taking a few slow, careful steps in my direction. "The long n' short of it is that I'm a time traveler."

I nodded eagerly. "Yeah?"

He paused briefly. "Yer not gonn' question that?"

I tilted my head at him. "You wouldn't believe the shit I've gone through, man. Time travel is one of the more believable things I've heard in the last couple of years. What's the context?"

He blinked at me questioningly before continuing. "I used t' work for NASA back in the days o' President Crown's... presidency. Since I had sum experience in th' Air Force, they stuck me on a special mission." What kind of backstory was this? How old was this guy? "They sent me int' a wormhole."

"Ahh, this is starting to make sense!" I clapped my hands together. "Lemme try to guess what happens next–"

He cut me off with a firm "No," and I raised my hands in submission. He continued with his story. "Moseyed on int' the wormhole, came out the other side, n' everything had changed. Turned out it had been a good sixty years since I left. I landed on Earth, and everyone jus' casually had phones fer heads. Mingus didn't like the fact that I was reluctant to git one o' my own, so she exiled me."

I whistled. "Damn..."

Norm raised a Sharpied eyebrow before sighing. "Yeah. It's pretty damn tough. I don't even know if my wife and kids are still around." There was a melancholy edge to his voice that gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach. If he were in his late twenties when he left– and that's being incredibly generous– his wife would be in her late eighties or early nineties. If they were any older (which was likely)... the prospects were not looking good. His kids probably all left Dialtown, as kids often do.

I took a sharp breath through my food hole (gods, it's so gross) and rested a hand above my dial. "I'm really sorry to hear that, man. If it helps, I understand– we're in sort of similar boats."

He closed the distance between himself and the table I sat at to set down his now-cold mug of coffee. "I don't think y'do, pardner. I'll bet money that ya didn't even know quantum jumpin' was a real thing until jus' now."

I draped my arms over the back of the semi-rotted chair I sat in. "Wanna bet?"

"Bet." His voice became firmer as he folded his arms across his chest.

A feeling of relief and triumph rose in my chest. I would finally get to tell somebody about what happened without sounding like a crazy person. I cleared my throat.

"It all started with a very amateur museum robbery with my best bud..."