The Dick & Don Show: S1

EPISODE 01: Time's Bitch

Don stared up at the dark, weathered, wooden ceiling that made up most of his rickety house. His head was pounding and he was tangled in the yellow quilt of his bedsheets. The elf screwed his eyes shut and registered where he was, trying to remember what the hell happened. His pajamas were drenched in sweat, the cold, wooden floor was jabbing his skin with splinters, and his heart was pounding.

Ah, yes, he'd fallen off his bed. Why? Probably a nightmare. Who needs an alarm clock when you got that?

Speaking of which, Don heard his alarm go off. After all, he can never tell when his body will yeet him off the side of his bed to wake him up or force him to undergo the unusual cruelty of his night terrors until the blaring jingle-jangle of his phone blasted in his ears to wake him up. Don groaned exasperatedly and unraveled himself from his quilt and sheets, crawling to the bedside table and reaching up to turn his phone off, but this only resulted in the device falling off the table and hitting him atop the head. His ears were straining at the unpleasant jingling of his alarm, and he made a note to change the alarm tune later (spoiler: he never does and never will).

When the unsavory chaos of the circumstances he awakened in subsided, Don was able to look out the window his bed was situated under, seeing the small glimpses of pink daylight peeking over the horizon through the dark. The young man rubbed his eyes and huffed, standing up off the floor finally and getting ready for the day.

Towards the end of his morning routine (it was nothing special, just shower, brush teeth, get dressed, eat breakfast, water plants, out the door, wait you forgot your phone dumbass, back out the door, shit you didn't turn off the sink, back out the door, remember to lock it, okay you're ready... unless...?), when he was watering a small pot of yellow cosmos, the horrid nightmare he had endured hit him like a punch to the face, and he reeled back, spilling water all over the floor as he tripped and landed on his ass.

Holy shit, he thought to himself, shaking. What the fuck is wrong with me? Whether he was thinking about the nightmare or the clumsiness of what he'd just done, we'll never know. Either way, he made sure to clean up his mess quickly and get out the house as soon as possible so he could spill what he went through at Dashlie so he wouldn't forget.

The morning air was crisp with the onset of autumn, though Halloween had passed a week or so ago. It was chilly, and Don snuggled into his sweater for warmth as he walked down the gravel road across the field. He always left before daybreak with Dashlie, as it took forever to get into town and he didn't own a car. Richard, his neighbor, would be a better choice since they both had the same job, but Dick was rather unpredictable when it came to timing. He wasn't exactly reliable; in fact, no one could tell if he'd arrive way too early to work or way too late — not even Richard himself.

Don kicked a gravel rock absentmindedly and looked up when he heard the soft, distant humming of a Ford Fussion 2012. Of course, Don doesn't know what type of car it is, he only knows it's small and silver, but Don isn't the narrator here, so cope. The headlights of Dashlie's vehicle split through the early morning darkness, and the little light the rising sun was providing illuminated Dashlie's form leaning against her car door, waiting.

"Took you long enough, asshat!" she laughed, popping open her door and sliding inside. Don rolled his eyes and headed for the passenger seat.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, heaving a sigh.

"Wanna listen to something?" she asked as Don shut the door behind him. He said no, so she just switched to her own music and pulled out.

"WATCH FOR THE FENCE!" Don warned, sitting up in his seat as Dashlie backed up at unruly speeds into the road, the transition from gravel to asphalt making the car rattle and shake.