Author's Notes: Soooooorry it took sooooo long but our phone lines were down and Telus JUST came out to fix it! So, here is chapter 4 and 5 of On Location. Fer people who haven't seen my profile yet I'm focusing on finishing this story before I start working heavily on Dim, Kornicopia and any other miscellaneous stories I can't remember.
Chapter 4- Meet Thy Neighbour
John went out the next day for some scouting. He put on the black clothing his superiors had provided him with and struggled into the metal-tipped boots. The army had really tried their best with his new clothes but, as always, they fit him poorly. Sometimes John wished he had a different body type, just so one shirt would fucking fit! After trying to stick his feet into the tight boots for fifteen minutes he finally noticed the buckles and moaned.
Seriously, how stupid could you get?
John stood and stomped, wincing. They had made the boots too small but he had not noticed another pair so these were going to have to do. He walked out the front door and was almost blinded by the sunlight reflecting off his boots.
Okay, I'll have to do something about that later.
He proceeded down the street, mentally taking notes. A few things became quite obvious as he strolled leisurely through downtown.
A) The city was the most unimaginative he had ever seen. He must have passed at least three "The Cafe's" in a row and every street name merely referred to some building close to it. Which also meant one street could have a million 'other' names also written underneath it's common one, resulting in massive street signs.
B) Perhaps there were drugs in the water because every single person he passed seemed to be doing or saying something stupid and/or aggravating. So far he had passed a group of pimply teenagers bragging about the girls they had banged while supposedly different girls dressed in strings hung off their elbows, two emo's sitting on the steps of Taco Hell and calling insults to people who passed (they called John a 'fag because he was skinny' which, logically made no sense), and a flock of cheerleaders twittering and squeaking to each other, shoving bystanders into traffic if they didn't move out of their way.
C) Which brought him to the next observation: no one seemed to notice anything. Sure, the people noticed traffic when it was barrelling down upon them even though the drivers themselves seemed to be driving with their eyes closed but they did not notice the people who shoved them into traffic. John timed each strange encounter and found a giant robot stomping through town, a group of teenagers getting smushed by a bus, and a herd of chipmunks did not warrant any notice at all (Well, to be fair it wasn't precisely a giant robot but it was going on a rampage, albeit a small one). Then again, he seemed to warrant a lot of attention and, despite all of his attempts to keep under the radar, people seemed compelled to insult him in some way.
John stopped by a cafe (called, for some odd reason, Cafe le Cafe) and stopped in their bathroom. He pulled out a beaker and filled it with water to test in his portable lab later on. With a great sigh and a wince for his poor feet, John walked back onto the street. Unfortunately (or was that fortunately?) the fact that a mother pushing a baby stroller straight into traffic caused no commotion whatsoever tweaked his last brain cell and he turned on his heel and practically ran back home.
John fiddled frantically with his keys, cursing each piece of unmarked metal, occasionally glaring at the pitted wooden door.
"Hello, you must be our new neighbour!"
John glanced up. A pleasant-looking woman with a plate of Saran Wrapped cookies smiled at him.
"Uh... yes. Just moved in." John held out his hand, "Johnny C."
The woman laughed and manoeuvred the plate so she could shake hands. "I'm Wendy. Wendy Jassof." She repositioned the plate and glanced down. John followed her eyes and noticed a tiny boy hiding behind her legs. "And this is Timothy. He doesn't talk. The doctor's say its some sort of trauma but I can't think of a single traumatic event he's seen or been through."
John gazed at the wide-eyed boy. "I see. Well, would you like to come in? I'm afraid it's rather messy."
"Oh certainly! Come, Timothy."
John opened the door and held it open for Wendy and Timothy. Wendy immediately put the cookies on the table. Timothy stared forlornly at them until John pulled the Saran Wrap off and handed him a cookie. The boy stared at it like it was a poisonous snake but took it anyway and began nibbling the edges.
"Oh my, your house is quite nice! I love the wallpaper."
John glanced at Wendy. "Oh? Thanks. Personally, I think it's rather... tacky... or at least the color is."
Wendy laughed. "Perhaps red could be tacky but combined with the flowers and the counters it looks all right. Not like that 775."
"What about it?"
"Oh, the house is in absolute ruins. There's not even a lawn! And he won't fix it, either! I've asked him countless times to plant a lawn or... or paint that horrid door but he just gives me this... this crazy look and walks away!"
"Oh? And what's his name?"
"Hmm... I think it's Oliver something."
John noted Timothy jumped and twitched when his mother spoke the name. These people, or at least, Timothy, seem to have some sort of information. "Well, considering I'm rather new I need to know all of the gossip. Spill."
Wendy complied happily, talking so much her tea became rather cold before she had even sampled it. All throughout her tirade John noted Timothy, twitching and shivering every time the name 'Oliver' was spoken.
Next, I'll pay a visit to 775 and this Oliver fellow.
