It feels like sandbags are pulling down both of Jons eyelids.

He’s doing a poor job of not falling asleep.

Once more, his eyes open as they drearily catch a quick glimpse of the 2004 hit, IRobot, staring Will Smith.

However, the sandbags win this time, as Jon drifts off into the dream world.

His last thought after his eyes close, but before he officially leaves this world are, sometimes there’s just nothing like waiting to go eat dinner later while watching a classic movie on an outdate hotel room TV.

Then, all of a sudden, Jon is chasing a Robot, he doesn’t remember why but it feels important.

The robot cuts left down an alley way.

Jon, close behind, cuts left. Good thing I’ve been running on the treadmill recently, he thinks to himself*.* After turning the corner, he sees the robot jump the fence.

“Ferk...”

He sprints up to the, grimy, green trash can and hoists himself up. Then he grabs onto the fence and slices his hand almost immediately. Ignoring it, he pulls himself up, swings one leg over, then the other, then sit on the fence, taking a moment to thinking about his hand, where he is, and what he’s doing….

Finally, remembering the ambiguous importance of the robot, jumps off.

He runs down the rest of the alley way, looks both ways, then realizes he lost the Robot.

Still not knowing the reason of why he was chasing the robot, he shrugs it off, and contemplates getting massage since the mildly overweight Latina lady hanging out the door directly to his right is winking and waving him in, or, maybe he’ll just sit, grab a coffee, and let someone else stress out over it.

After all the running he just participated in, he decides a massage is, indeed, the best option of the three.

As he enters the establishment the beads cackle as he parts them. The lady barks, “It’s 35 dollars for the ‘full package.’”

After checking his pockets, he pulls out some cash, counts it, and, somehow, has the exact amount he needs, of which, he places the crinkly bills into her wrinkly open hand.

She grabs him by the wrist and takes him back to the room.

Once there, she asks him to disrobe, but doesn’t leave.

Which he found odd, because usually they leave and let you put a towel on.

Not being a self-conscious person, he takes his shirt off, folds it, and sets it on the lonely chair in the corner. He drops his trousers, folds them, and puts them with the shirt. He doesn’t have underwear on, which is odd, because he always wears flashy, fluffy, funny, or velvety underwear.

Now naked, he lays on the table, face smushed into the little hole, waiting for the small talk to commence.

…Silence…

The ‘masseuse’ wastes no time and proceeds to slide a lubed finger into his relaxed asshole.

Jon jolts awake to a very intense ending of IRobot, the part where they are destroying the evil AI in some light up flashy server.

Well, I guess she wasn’t actually a masseuse, I should have gotten coffee, he thinks to himself as he, groggily, gets up, sits on the edge of the bed and, after missing a few times, finally gets a shoe on his foot.

Eventually both shoes manage to get secured tightly to his feet. Jon proceeds to light up a joint, takes a very large inhale, lets out a mesmerizing puff of smoke, then puts it out the joint on the end table to save for later.

He slaps his hands on both knees, presses down, and stands up.

“At last, it’s time for dinner!”

I release a new book every month about one of Jon’s full adventures. You’ll also be able to buy them on amazon at full price if you prefer them there. But other perks come with a subscription like the opportunity to name characters and be apart of my writing process.