The Land of Nod

Originally written in 1994-95 and published in the Stormy Petrel, the campus newspaper of Oglethorpe University, Atlanta, Georgia.

Our hero was straight out of a bad cowboy movie. His travel-worn brown leather boots, the too-tight yet somehow comfortable blue jeans. He wore a white hat, and had the perfect three-week-old stubble on his chiseled face. The difference between our cowboy hero and the movies was that he did not smoke, nor drink. No need to. Gabe was his name, and bounty hunting was his game. Can't you just hear the awful cowboy music in the background?

Clunk, clunk, went his cowboy boots on the dirty road to Nod. Nod was a town in the middle of nowhere. Where else could it possibly be? Just like our pre-ordered hero, Nod was the pre-ordered cowboy town in which our plot takes place. The hot, blazing sun beat mercilessly on the ground; it almost never rained in Nod. There was the typical saloon, with the tired, plastic-looking woman tending bar.

The people of Nod lived in fear of each other. However, the man they feared most was the man who owned everything in Nod. The villain of the town literally owned the place. Some say he killed his brother; others just tell the tale of his immense wealth. Still others say he was cursed. Gabe's job was to find him and bring him to justice.

Clunk, clunk, clunk went Gabe's boots. His diamond-blue eyes scanned the horizon. Gabe was no ordinary man. His computer mind registered every minute detail that ordinary men could not. He counted the grains of sand. For every footprint, he could discern its owner.

Gabe sauntered into Nod. First stop: the saloon, of course. The doors creaked at his entrance. What else could they do? His travel-worn boots landed on the dusty wooden floor, clunk, clunk.

"Got milk?" he asked with a smile.

The tired, plastic-looking bartender thought she had misheard the visitor. "Excuse me," she slurred, slightly drunk.

"Got milk?" he repeated, again with that smile.

"This is a saloon, not a grocery store," she replied.

"I know. Believe me, I know. But I don't drink alcohol. Do you have milk?"

"Mister, you must not be from around here," murmured the tired, plastic-looking bartender.

Minutes passed into what seemed like hours. Gabe waited patiently. Finally the barmaid sighed a quiet, desperate sigh and whispered, "Let me get the owner." This was exactly what Gabe expected. It was all preplanned from the beginning.

Clunk, clunk, clunk went the boots of the villain. He was incredibly good-looking for a villain. Grey eyes. Soft brown hair. Stubble. Tight, compact muscles that spoke of years of hard labor. This man had worked. Hard. His voice was like a whisper from the beginning of time itself.

"What do you want, mister?" the soft voice asked.

"I hear that you killed your brother. I am here to bring you to justice," our hero replied.

Blink. The left hand moved faster than a hummingbird's wing toward the gun kept ready just for that moment. As the bullet sped through the air and the plastic-looking barmaid screamed, something very unusual happened. The bullet stopped in midair and dropped harmlessly to the wooden floor. Did I mention that Gabe was no ordinary man?

As the bullet bounced on the wooden floor, Gabe called out, "Just as I thought. You have not changed your ways. Your destiny is sealed."

And he was gone.