sam jones woke up.
he rolled over and went back to sleep
he had a dream in which he was walking down a dark road.
he could not remember his name.
was it dave fenster?
or was it siddharta lollipop?
that is a funny name, sam thought halfheartedly.
but it is not my name.
no, it is not, he heard a voice say.
the voice came from the front seat of a long black limousine parked by the side of the country road.
get it the car, the voice continued, we have work to do.
suddenly sam remembered.
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he was not sam jones, or dave fenster, or whatever lollipop.
he was nick olivetti, and the driver was dave fenster.
nick got in the back seat of the long black limousine, and dave fenster started it up.
sorry if i was late, nick muttered.
you were not late, dave reassured him, as he maneuvered the limousine around a sudden bend in the road.
we have all the time in the world, he added.
where are we going? nick asked innocently, as the moon suddenly appeared through the trees.
to a funeral.
not mine i hope, nick replied with a laugh.
you know, dave replied, you always had a great sense of humor for a guy who never said anything funny in his life.
suddenly bright yellow headlights flared up ahead.
who can that be, nick asked, who would be out on a country road like this at this time of night?
you are a real bright boy, aren’t you?
almost as bright as these lights bearing down relentlessly upon us.
you use some real big words for a guy who never said anything intelligent in his life.
look out!
the car with the bright lights somehow whizzed past the long black limousine.
dave fenster laughed.
you weren’t nervous, were you? he asked nick over his shoulder.
who, me? nick replied nonchalantly.
the road got bumpier and darker.
the moon disappeared again, behind the tall black trees.
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