The Town I Moved To Has No Cemeteries And Now I Know Why | Part 3
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But if you'd prefer to listen without interruptions and support the show directly, start your 7-day free trial of Dr. No Sleep Premium by going to patreon.com/drnosleep. Thank you so much for all your support. It truly means the world. "You were shot from 700 yards," Mr. Dorman said when he walked me out to the front steps the second time that day. "Do you know why? Because 800 yards is too hard?"

No. Because you said the "PP" word, and a customer got mad so they put out a hit on you. I was killed because I said something about pee? That's not right, Mr. Dorman. I asked you if you had to poop, not pee. No, not pee, JL. PP. PowerPoint, remember? I just told you earlier today that there have been requests for you to stop talking about PowerPoints. It's turning some customers off. We don't want that.

We want them happy and engaged and spending money for justice, don't we all? You really can't hold a clear thought for long, can you? Like brain thoughts? Yes, JL. Like brain thoughts. Daddy said that when they handed out brains, I was last in line and got the leftovers. He would say I had a chinchilla brain, not a man's brain. But I opened up a chinchilla's head once, and I opened up a person's head and set them side by side, and they looked the same.

"One's just bigger." The person's brain was. "Yes, JL. I get-" "No, silly! The chinchilla's brain was bigger. Duh!" Mr. Dorman pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Nicky's is still open for lunch if you want to hurry over there before they switch to the dinner menu," he said and gave me a little shove in the back. "Might as well get this over with." "Get what over with?" "Putting you back in Bishop's Hollow. Sounds like a plan, Mr. Dorman."

"Then move along, JL. Move along. I have work to do. Making another mean PowerPoint presentation." There was a thwacking noise and then pain in my chest. "Ow!" I said as I looked down at an arrow shaft sticking out from between my ribs. "You have got to be shitting me," Mr. Dorman said as he walked away. "I had shit to do today other than prepping your damn vat, JL." Then he walked off, leaving me at the top of the steps with an arrow in my chest.

Then there was a second thwack. "Hey, Mr. Dorman! I got two arrows now!" But he was gone, so I just looked down at the arrows. "They probably don't let you eat a Nicky's with arrows in ya. I should take care of these." I grabbed each shaft and yanked as hard as I could. "Ow! They're barbed!" Not that I'd let that stop me. I gripped tighter and pulled even harder. After a few seconds, the arrows both came right out.

They took a lot of my fleshy bits with them, and in about two seconds, I felt lightheaded. Gotta sit down, I mumbled, then collapsed onto my butt on the top step. A top step that was all wet with blood. I wonder where all the blood is from. Mr. Dorman walked me to Nicky's diner when I came to again. It's the dinner menu now, but you will find something you like, I'm sure, he said, opening the door for me.

Inside, all of the customers turned and glared at me. "I have work to do, people," Mr. Dorman said. "I can't keep printing out new JLs, okay? So do me a favor and try not to kill him for at least an hour or so." No one replied. "Great," Mr. Dorman said and left. "Hi," I said and waved. "You can take a seat at the bar," a waitress said, pointing to the one open seat left. "You want coffee? Tea? Soda pop? Water? Beer?

"Do you have grape soda?" "We have all the sodas, kid," the waitress said, even though she was around my age. "Take a seat and I'll get your grape soda and a menu." "Thanks," I said, so happy to finally be in Nikki's diner. Mr. Dorman should make a PowerPoint about Nikki's. It's cool.

I sat down, and the waitress set a cup of grape soda in front of me and a menu. And I thanked her and I sipped at the soda, and I looked over the menu, and I was about to order when a very large man walked up to me and took the soda right out of my hands, and then he started to lift it over my head, probably to dump it on me. But I wasn't having that, so I grabbed the salt shaker that was close by and shoved it right through his left eye. It was really fun!

Some customers didn't like that, so they came to help get the salt shaker out of their friend's eye. But I could see forks and knives in their hands, and knowing exactly what Daddy would do to me with forks and knives, I jumped off my bar stool, picked it up, and smashed in two of the salt shaker guy's friend's heads. "Nicky's is the best! Can you please stop?" the waitress shouted as I looked for a new weapon. I really wanted to get back into the kitchen and look for a meat cleaver. Meat cleavers are the best for cutting off hands.

"You!" the waitress shouted at me. "If you want to eat here, then you have to behave. He took my grape soda," I said, and pointed down at the dead man at my feet. He was in a pool of blood, with a salt shaker sticking out of his eye of all places. I wonder how that got there. I gave his corpse a hard kick. "That was rude of you to take my grape soda."

"It was rude," a man said from a booth in the back of the diner. He waved at me, and I recognized those hands right away. "Hey, Grady," I said and waved at him. "I got this, Alice," he said to the waitress. "He can join me, and I'll keep an eye on him. No more fights until after the dinner rush, okay?" The waitress, Alice, said to me as she waved her ticket book in my direction. "Learn the rules or don't get served here anymore. Sorry," I said. "Rules are important."

She rolled her eyes and walked back into the kitchen. I made my way around the table to the back booth. "Thanks," I said as I sat down across from Grady. I rubbed the red leather and smiled. "Nice booth. One of the perks of knowing how to get along here in Bishop's Hollow," he said and smiled. "And, by the way, no hard feelings for killing me with that throat chop. It was an impressive blow."

"I learned from my daddy," I said. "He'd do it to me all the time and say that I was lucky he held back each time or I'd be dead. He taught me good. Looks like it," Grady said, then smiled as Alice set my new grape soda down. "Thanks, Alice. Behave," she said to me then walked off. "I didn't get to order my food. She'll be back," Grady responded. "She just needs to clean up your mess." "Right," I said.

Then looked the menu over a few times before deciding on the fish and chips. I looked up at Grady. "What are you getting? I already ate. I was gonna head out when Dormin walked you in. Figured you might need a friendly face. Even after I chopped your throat and you died? Listen, JL, it's clear you have some cognitive issues. A lot of people here in Bishop's Hollow do. Way worse than you. But no one here is going quite as hard as you.

"You gotta chill out. Stop taking everything so personally. Learn the ways of Bishop's Hollow before you make your moves. Right now, you're killing for nothing. Wait for a job that pays before you go all homicidal maniac." "I'm not a maniac," I said, not liking Grady at the moment.

"No, you're not. You're a cool dude," he said and held up his hands. Such fine hands. "That's why I don't want you acting like the maniacs we have in here. Just chill. Can you do that? Can you just chill?" "Um, I guess." Alice came back like Grady said she would, and I placed my order for fish and chips. "You can have a good life here, JL," Grady said as Alice walked away.

"Alice has been here for twenty years now. One of the first." "Her?" I said, and turned around to point at Alice. She scowled and gave Grady a harsh look. "Stop staring and pointing," Grady said. "You don't age here. Your clones are the same age as when they wheeled you into the processing center." "I'll always be this age?" I asked. "They should really put that info into power." "No," Grady said, and lurched across the table to press his hand against my mouth.

He was about to lose a few fingers, but then he took his hand away and sighed. "You gotta stop saying that," he said and shook his head. "You have to learn how to make it work in Bishop's Hollow, not how to make Bishop's Hollow work for you. Understood?" I nodded, even though I had no idea what he was talking about. "Alice learned to make it work," Brady continued. "Now she runs Nikki's, and doesn't have to go out and kill anymore. She doesn't kill at all."

I didn't say that. I said she doesn't have to go out and kill. No need when eventually everyone in town will walk through those doors at some point. And if they don't, she subcontracts. "Oh." I said and nodded, even though Grady obviously made the word subcontract up. "What I'm saying, JL, is that you can have a good life here," he said. "It's violent and dangerous.

"But considering you can't really die, well, that gives you an opportunity to change." "Oh, okay. Really?" "Yeah, sounds good." I looked over my shoulder. "Hope my fish and chips are ready soon."

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When I looked back at Grady, he was frowning. What? I asked. What's wrong? Do you remember anything I just said to you?

"Sure. Can you tell me the highlights?" "Sure." He waited. I waited. "Now, JL," he said. "What did I just say to you? Something about highlights?" He said and took a deep breath. "No wonder Dorman is close to cracking." "He is? How sad. I like Mr. Dorman," I said and snapped my fingers. "Next time you tell me something, you should put it in a PowerPoint presentation."

"Motherfucker," Grady whispered as Alice arrived with my fish and chips. He looked up at her. "I tried." "I know," she said and set my food down in front of me. "Thanks," I said and went for my silverware. Alice grabbed me by the back of the head and slammed my face down into the plate of fish and chips. "Ow! You're hot!" I tried to yell around the face full of fried fish and potatoes, then a sharp pain exploded in my temple.

"How about you try dinner at home for a while?" Mr. Dorman said as he personally walked me from the processing center to my apartment house. I had to nod because I couldn't really answer him with the ball gag in my mouth. I would have never thought someone like Mr. Dorman was into stuff like ball gags, but you just never know with people. Astrid was standing on the porch, leaning next to the front door. She didn't look happy. "Not cool, Dorman," she said when we walked up the steps.

I tried to say something about Mr. Dorman being very cool, but the words came out all jumbly and muffled. "You stay quiet," Astrid said. Then she focused on Mr. Dorman again. "His people will really pay me two hundred grand to babysit him all night?" "That's right," Mr. Dorman said. "They feel he's not understanding the seriousness of his situation. They would like him to get through at least twenty-four hours without dying."

Otherwise, it will never settle in that brain of his that Bishop's Hollow is not a vacation. I'd never been on a vacation before, and I struggled to get that out, but it was no use. The ball gag won that battle. "Quiet," Astrid said. "Atal's are talking. Are you going to take him?" Mr. Dorman asked, giving me a little push toward Astrid. "I'm thinking, I'm thinking," she said, then cocked her head at the front door.

"Yeah, I'll do it. But I want the 200 grand to be my percentage, not the full payout. I walk with 200k in my account after I keep him alive for 24 hours or no deal. I'll talk to management, but I believe we can make that happen, even if the customer doesn't want to increase the amount on their end. Will that suffice?" "That will suffice," Astrid said and shook her head. "And Jesus Christ, get this thing off of him!" She reached up and undid my ball gag.

"Oh, wowzers," I said and worked my jaw a few times. "I don't know why people think those things are fun. Yeah, they look like fun in those movies Daddy would show me, but when you actually wear one, I have to say no thanks to that." "Let's get you inside before you say something stupid," Astrid said. "Besides what you just said, 24 hours," Mr. Dorman said. "No problem," Astrid said, and yanked open the door so she could shove me inside.

It was a little rougher treatment than I liked from a girlfriend, but we'd only been together for a short time, so we were still working out the kinks. "Let's get you inside and undercover," Astrid said, looking around the neighborhood. She pointed a finger at a window across the street. "Not now, Newsome. He hasn't said it." Astrid shoved me through the front door just as someone yelled, "He'll say it at some point."

"Whatever!" Astrid said, and then slammed the door closed without even a goodbye to Mr. Dorman. It looked like we would be working out kinks as well as manners later. Astrid walked me up to my apartment and let me in. "You have a key? For 24 hours I do," she said and shoved me inside. "And no, that doesn't make me your girlfriend." "Of course not. It's not the love between us that bonds us, not some trinket." "Trinket?" "I read that on a greeting card once." "Good for you."

She went around the living room and closed all the drapes. Sit, she said and pointed to the couch. And leave the lights off or they'll see your silhouette. People are saying fuck it to the rules right now. Okay, I replied. I was a little beat, even though I just respawned only an hour ago. Room by room, she checked out the whole apartment. I think we're good, she said when she came back into the living room. She stood in front of me, looking down, her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed.

Daddy used to look at me the same way, just before he explained why my punishment was all my fault. "I have never seen Dorman so upset before," she said then smiled. "Way to go. I upset Mr. Dorman?" I asked, shocked. "Why are you smiling about that? Dorman's a tool," she said and walked away. She plopped down in one of the chairs. "He's management's mouthpiece. Never trust that man. He is not on your side."

"Yes he is!" I exclaimed. "He even made a powerpoint just for me! Fucking hell!" Astrid shouted and threw herself on the floor. When nothing happened, she slowly pulled herself back up into the chair. "Was it a bee?" "What?" "A bee? Did a bee try to sting you? Is that why you fell on the floor?" "No, it's because you said the… you know what, let's not do this." She stood up and went to the kitchen. "Got any booze?"

"Oh, I don't really drink," I said. "Daddy said it makes your pecker limp, and men like me don't have limp peckers." "Holy Christ, you are one weird fucking dude," she said, and started going through all the cupboards. "But you aren't wrong. Not a drop of booze in the place. I'll be right back. Where are you going?" I asked as she walked to my apartment door. "Gonna have to pluck a bottle or two from my stash," he said. "I'll be right back. Chill."

She left quickly, and I eased back into the couch. Even though I didn't really drink, a cocktail with my girlfriend sounded great. The door flew open and Astrid stuck her head in. "Do not go anywhere," she said, eyeing me hard. "Stay fucking put on that fucking couch, you hear me? Staying put right here, sweetheart," I said, knowing that girlfriends liked to be called sweetheart. She shook her head and left.

I did as she said and didn't go anywhere. I just sat there and looked around my new apartment. It was only the second time I'd been in it, so it was all brand new to me. That's when I saw the window over by the breakfast bar slowly slide open. A person dressed head to toe in black wriggled through the small gap and tumbled onto the floor. "Hi," I said, staying put as asked. The person dressed in black jumped a little and then looked over at me. "Are you a ninja?"

"I am Death Incarnate," they said, and I could tell it was a woman from the sound of her voice. "Oh, cool," I said. "I'm James Lee Torrance, but call me JL. I've never heard the last name Incarnate before. Neat name." "What?" the ninja with the last name Incarnate asked. "So, do you know how to use nunchucks and throwing stars and all those cool weapons? My daddy liked to watch kung fu movies, and I always wanted to get good at throwing stars.

"Ninjas are Japanese, and Kung Fu is Chinese," the ninja with the last name Incarnate said. "Learn your cultures, loser." "Loser?" I said and stood up. "That's rude. We just met. You should get to know someone before you call them a loser."

"No time to get acquainted, loser," the ninja said as she pulled a black pistol with a long suppressor out from behind her back. "Where were you keeping that? That had to sting." "What? No, gross. I have a holster at the small of my back. That makes way more sense. Are you going to shoot me with that?" "I am, because you said Bauer-" The door to my apartment burst open and Astrid walked in with the pistol in each hand. She was firing before the ninja could finish her sentence.

When it was quiet and Astrid stood over the ninja corpse, I said, "Her name was Death Incarnate. Cool, right? Her name is Betty Ortega and she'll be back," Astrid said when she crouched down and pulled the ninja's ski mask off. "We can't stay here. You're coming to my place." "A sleepover! Neat!" I said and looked around. "What should I bring?" "Just your crazy self. But first, help me with her, will you? Help how?"

"Grab her arms and I'll take her legs," Astrid said, then went and fully opened the window the ninja came in. "It makes it easier for clean-up if the bodies are outside." She lifted, I lifted. We carried the dead ninja to the window and then shoved her out. The wet thunking sound she made when she hit the grass made me giggle. "Sounded like poop, for fuck's sake," Astrid said and grabbed my elbow. "Come on, I want you secured and locked down so I can get some rest."

"Okay," I said. "But we have to use protection. We are not sleeping together." She snapped. "Huh? No, I meant a shotgun," I said. "Daddy called his shotgun protection. You killed your daddy, right?" "Sure did." "And you had a good reason?" "Sure did." "Then maybe don't quote the guy so much. I don't know what that means, but okay." "Good," she said, leading me out of my apartment and over to hers. "Let's get you drunk."

And she wasn't lying about that. Once she had locked her door, making sure all eight deadbolts were secure, and the heavy metal bar across the door was secure, and the laser alarms were set on each window, and her bulletproof drapes were drawn, then she poured me a big glass of alcohol. I don't know what type of alcohol it was, but I didn't like it. Then she found some soda in her fridge and mixed the alcohol with that. It wasn't grape soda, but it tasted pretty nice. I think I had about eight of those.

"Ow!" I said when I woke up. "My head hurts. Why?" "It's called a hangover," Astrid said from a chair across the room as I lay on the couch. "They tend to hurt. I don't like it." I sat and sat up. The world spun and I vomited all over myself. "Oops. It's okay. I put plastic down," she said and got up. "I'll get a towel. Don't move or you'll get it everywhere." I looked down and saw the plastic on the couch.

I also saw a lot of red. Am I bleeding? I asked when she returned with the towel. No, you really liked the maraschino cherries I was putting in your drinks, so you ate the whole jar, she said. She wiped me off and helped me up. Let's get you into the shower. She showed me to the bathroom and waited by the door. Turn around, I said as I unbuttoned my jeans. You don't want me to see you naked? She replied and laughed. I thought I was your girlfriend? Then she shook her head and muttered.

"Why did I say that? Fuck, I'm not embarrassed," I said and stripped down. Her eyes went wide. She nodded at the shower. "You know how to work a shower?" "Of course," I said. "Daddy stopped turning it on for me when I became 16. It was time to man up. Fucking hell," she said, and picked up my clothes before she left. "I'll throw these in the washer. Don't use all the hot water." I used all the hot water.

After drying off and wrapping the towel around my waist, I walked out of the bathroom and froze in place.

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"Astrid?" I asked, seeing her body on the floor with a lot of blood around it. The blood probably came from the gash on her neck that almost took her head off. "Astrid? You okay?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. I whipped about and got my arm up in time to block the very big knife that was slashing at my face. Ow! I yelled and threw a punch right into the face of an elderly gentleman. I'm your downstairs neighbor, he grunted as he stumbled back, one hand gripping the very big knife and the other going to his nose to stop the gushing blood. Oh, hi, I'm JL, I said and extended my hand. He stared at it.

"You're as retarded as they say," he said, and took a couple of steps back. "What did you call me?" I asked, my voice very low, very calm. "Fuckin' retarded," he said, and wiped his knife on his jeans then held it up. "And unarmed, it looks like. Too bad for you, on both fronts." "You don't call me that," I said, taking a step toward him. "That word is not a nice word. You don't say that to people. It's rude and it's mean.

"What the fuck do I care what's rude or mean?" the man asked. "I once carved up a whole family on Thanksgiving except for the grandma. Her I gave the stuffing, if you know what I mean." "I do not know what you mean," I said, taking another step toward him. "Apologize. For giving the old broad some stuffing? Ha! Not gonna. Apologize for calling me the R-word. Everyone is calling you that."

"Apologize, fuck you, apologize, fuck you, apologize, fuck you!" I raced at him and he brought the knife up, but he was too old, too slow, and I knocked his arm to the side as I rammed my shoulder into his chest, sending him falling back against a window. The glass shattered and he cried out as he struggled to get free.

I didn't let him. I grabbed him by the throat, yanked him up, grabbed the back of his neck, spun him around, and shoved his head into the broken glass. Then I raked his neck back and forth, back and forth across that broken glass until I felt it hit bone. "Not nice," I said to him. As I walked away and over to Astrid's body, I knelt down and patted the top of her head. "You were a good girlfriend."

Then I stood up. The elderly man said everyone was calling me the R-word. That was the only thing I hated more than being called "James Lee." No one should be called that word. No one. "No one!" I said out loud. Then I looked about the apartment. Astrid was like me. She knew how to kill, and killers like me and her should have weapons. Lots of weapons.

It took me 30 minutes before I found the part of the wall that slid aside. Daddy always said I was good at finding treasure. She had pistols and more pistols, an automatic rifle, lots of knives, a couple of things I couldn't identify. And then there it was. Protection. A Mossberg pump-action 12-gauge shotgun. And four bandoliers of shells right next to it.

"Everyone is calling me that?" I said, as I grabbed the shotgun in the shelves and got myself ready for a walk to Nikki's. I wasn't missing lunch that day. When I stepped out onto the front porch, six people were coming up the walkway with various weapons, none of them firearms. That was kinda dumb.

A bullet whizzed by my head, and I looked over at the house across the street. "I'll see you later, Newsome!" I shouted, happy with myself that I remembered his name. Then I pointed the shotgun at the six people as they stopped in their tracks. "You first!"

They tried to run but they didn't get very far. "I'm fast and the spread on a 12 gauge is pretty neato. Only one made it to the street and she didn't make it far off the curb before I blew her fucking head off." "You call me that word and think it's okay?" I shouted. I walked over to the body and stomped on the back, blood gushed up out of the neck hole. I smiled and then looked around. "Do you call me that Newsome?" I shouted at the house across the street.

"No, sorry," Newsome replied, and a window slowly closed. "How about you?" I yelled at a man sitting on his front porch, a couple of houses down. He got up and hurried inside. I moved out into the middle of the street, then turned in a circle. "Anyone else? Huh? You call me the R-word, do you? No one is going to answer you." I spun around and almost blew Grady's guts out. "Do you? Huh, Grady? Do you call me that name?

"No, JL, I don't," he said, his hands up. "But some others do. It's not right," I said. "People like us gotta stick together. Play is gonna play. Um, I'm not sure that applies to this situation, but I think I get what you're going for," he said. "We're all stuck here, so why make it worse, right?" "Yeah," I said. "Why make it worse?" I paused and frowned, then looked down at my shoes.

He said and got a little closer.

"You do?" I shouted and racked a shell into the shotgun. "Motherfuckers!" Grady's eyes went wide just as I leveled the shotgun at him. "JL, wait! I don't-" He yelled as I pulled the trigger. "You ever seen one of those things? What are they called? A diorama? I had to make one in school before Daddy said I didn't have to go no more. Well, that's what the inside of Grady's chest looked like when I stood over his body. But the diorama wasn't showing what happened in some book.

It showed what used to be in Grady's chest. Bits of ribs, a little hunk of lung, a partial heart, and a whole lot of blood. Pain ripped my attention from Grady, and I looked over at a woman holding a 9mm. Fucking weird-ass retard, she started to say. The blast didn't take her whole head off, but it did take the lower half of her face off and most of her neck. She collapsed and slowly started to choke to death on her own blood while I watched. I rolled my left shoulder and winced.

You shot me, I said to the choking woman. And you were gonna call me that word. I knelt down next to her. I'll see your clone in a couple of hours. And that surprised me. Clones, we are clones. Mr. Dorman's PowerPoint had started to stick in my head. Good for Mr. Dorman. I spent the rest of the day either shooting at someone or being shot at.

I think by the time dinner rolled around, I had five bullet wounds, three knife wounds, and a gash on my thigh from this one guy who wrapped barbed wire around his fists. He was fun to kill. By the time I got to Nikki's, I was starving and bleeding out, and I'd lost my towel. "Grape soda and some fish and chips," I said as I walked inside.

The cook was standing by the door and he tried to gut me with his knife, but I was way too fast for that. I blocked his thrust with one hand and jammed that shotgun barrel up under his chin with the other. "No!" Alice shouted from behind the counter. "Don't you dare paint my ceiling red with his brains! Brains are gray," I said. "But I suppose that's better than being beige. Put the shotgun down and I will make sure you get your grape soda and fish and chips, all right?" "Why wouldn't you?" I asked.

"Aren't you supposed to get me what I order?" "James Lee Torrance, you butchered your way through Bishop's Hollow like no one has done in a very long time," Alice said. "What I should be doing is putting you down like a rabid dog, but from what I hear, you got a beef with folks using a certain slur." "My daddy called me that," I said. "Then I'd had enough, just like today." "Well, your daddy ain't here, and not everyone you gunned down called you that word."

"So maybe we call it even and you set the shotgun aside so Miller there can make your dinner for you. Sound good?" "I am starving. I didn't get to have breakfast because my tummy was all ooky from drinking and girlfriend Astrid and I made drinks last night." Alice stared at me for a moment then shook her head. "Did you go all apeshit because you had a hangover?" "No," I said and shrugged. "Maybe. Never had one before."

"Jesus, the customers are going to have a field day with you. Now they're gonna try to get you drunk so you go on more rampages." I bet they were laughing and whooping and cheering all day long. I didn't hear anything. "They're not here, dumb a- uh, JL. They watch on their computers." "Oh." "Like when Daddy watched his snuff films." Alice blinked a few times, and I was worried she was having a stroke. "Sure," she finally said. "Like that."

"Naughty customers," I said and smiled. Then I yawned. "I sure am hungry. You go sit at the back booth, and Miller will make your dinner while I get your grape soda. Sound good?" "Yup." I moved the shotgun out from under Miller's chin and smiled at him. "No hard feelings?" "Fuck you," he snapped. "Miller!" Alice growled. He sighed. "Yeah, sure. No hard feelings." "Cool," I said and limped my way to the back booth.

Alice brought the grape soda, and I finished it in two gulps. She brought me another one right away. By the time I had my fish and chips in front of me, I wasn't feeling so good. Then I perked up when Astrid walked in. "You're alive!" I yelled, and tried to stand but my legs wouldn't move. Also, my butt was stuck to the seat, because I was naked and covered in blood, but mostly because my legs wouldn't move.

"That's how it works around here," she said and sat down across from me. "How are you feeling? About ready to call it a day? I'm eating dinner," I said, and tried to pick up another fry, but it slipped through my fingers, my numb fingers. "Oopsie, yeah, you don't look too good," Astrid said. "Maybe we'll just sit here until you fade out. Might be easier than trying to get you back to your apartment." "Okay," I said and yawned. "I'm sleepy."

"You've had a big day." "Did I?" "You did. You killed 34 people, maimed another dozen, and you're still walking. Today will become legend. Cool." Then I yawned again and sort of slumped over. "Can't reach my grape soda," I said just before it all went dark. Mr. Dorman stares at me for a moment as he sits behind his beige desk. While he stares, I take some time to glance around.

Beige walls, beige office furniture, including the already mentioned desk, the filing cabinet, the two chairs, one of which I'm sitting in right now, and a beige coat rack with a brown windbreaker hanging on it. Missed some beige, I say and point at the coat on the rack. The answer is no. What was the question? He sighs. He does that a lot around me.

"No, JL. You cannot put all of that into a PowerPoint presentation and show it to new residents so they don't call you the R-word or try to get you drunk or call you James Lee. That is what you're asking, yes? To put everything you just told me into a PowerPoint presentation to be shown during orientation?" "That's a great idea!" I exclaim and jump up. "Thank you, Mr. Dorman!" "The answer is no, JL," he says calmly. "Sure sounded like a yes to me.

It's a no. A hard no. A no that cannot be misinterpreted as a yes. Oh, okay, I say in shrug. Worth a try. I just want to live up to the high standards you have set here in Bishop's Hollow, Mr. Dorman. Of course, JL. Anyway, I gotta go, I say and give him a wink. Gonna go have lunch at Nicky's with my girlfriend. Astrid's not here. He shakes his head. You know what? Have fun at lunch. Tell Astrid I say hello.

"Not a chance, Mr. Dorman," I say and go to his office door. "No way I'm telling my girlfriend that the Mr. Dorman said hello. She'd jump ship to you in a heartbeat. But I get it. Play is gonna play, right, Mr. Dorman?" "Right, JL," he says and picks up his phone. "I have work to do. Have fun at lunch. You know I will," I say and leave his office.

I check the .45 on my right hip, the 9mm on my left hip, the machete strapped to my right leg, then the Mossberg pump-action 12-gauge shotgun I have strapped over my back that Astrid let me keep. You know, for protection. I leave Mr. Dorman's office and make my way out of the processing center. I know the way by heart now. Been walking this hall for months now. It hasn't been every day that I've respawned, but close.

When I reach the front steps, I take a deep breath, pull the shotgun from my back, and pump in a shell as bullets start flying around me. Gotta run! Time for lunch so I can see my girlfriend!

Big shout out to Trinity, Mark, Michelle, Charles, Melanie, and Nicole. Welcome to Dr. No Sleep Premium. I seriously appreciate your support. If you want to join them and get the show ad-free, including access to over 70 exclusive bonus stories, start your 7-day free trial of Dr. No Sleep Premium by going to patreon.com slash drnosleep. That's patreon.com slash drnosleep.