“He was just standing there when I looked down from the bird. You know, after the plane.”
“Then what?” Philip was into Frank’s story. For a change.
“Just for a second he was there. Looked like, I don’t know, *Superman*. All jacked up like a superhero, you see.”
“Like Impotent Rage?”
“Yeah,” Frank said. “Like Impotent Rage.”
“*Love* Impotent Rage. That’s where I hid my drugs!”
Took Frank a second to get it, then he remembered the figurine in Philip’s trailer with the hollowed out core and pop top head. *Old* trailer. “Oh yeah. Anyway, thought you’d want to know, since, you know, you saw the plane shadows that couldn’t be there too.”
“I *did*,” said Philip without a doubt. “I did indeed. Grapeshot.”
“Grape*seed*,” said Frank.
“Noooo. Grape*shot*. *Franklin*.” Philip liked to call Frank Lynn by his old name when he failed to properly translate anything to this new format they now live in, GTA V imprisoned characters no more. They were free. Thanks to the power of the Alamo. “Remember the Alamo,” Philip would also say to jolt Frank back to the current (virtual) reality. “Remember it and then forget it because we’re in a different place now,” he might follow up, “one that doesn’t stink like *rotting fish*, PHEH.”
Alamo inland sea of GTA V fully transferred over to Nawt Vaya inland sea of Our Second Lyfe. Like Philip before him, Frank was totally on board with it. After all, they always had the dreams and reminiscings to return if needed. Like now.
“Anyway,” Frank continued in that vein, “he was standing at the start of that jutting out place, you know, the, oh what do you call it? Not peninsula.”
“Pier?” Philip offered, trying to help the story along.
“No dawg, nothing wood or anything. A *jetty* — yeah, that’s it. A narrow piece of land jutting into the water in a straight line.
“Or crooked line,” Philip said, thinking of something called the Spiral Jetty. He can’t recall where.
“Okay, so, you know, the Superman person was gone — only appeared a split second like I said…”
“Yeah?” Philip said, egging him on again.
“But when I was walking down that, er, jetty, in a straight line, I also knew he was *pointing* toward something. Something on the other side of the lake as it turned out.”
“Sea,” corrected Philip once more. “Alamo Sea.”
“Yeah, Alamo Sea, then. So I stood near the end of the point, looked across the lake — sea, sorry. There was a boat parked near the tip, but that wasn’t it. Then I heard it. Little Hell, Philip. Place called Little Hell.”
Philip had heard of the location but had also heard it called Heaven and said so. Out of their dreams and back into the present, both looked across the moonlit Nawt Vaya waters and wondered what *that* meant. Little Hell and Heaven both.
(to be continued)
Sunklands 