‘Barbeque @ 10 o’clock’

17th November, 1839

That gunfight in Weston got bad pretty quickly. I packed up whatever belongings I had left and made my way out into the desert with my dog. It didn’t take long for us to escape. All the remnants of the human world soon disappeared behind us as we travelled further and further into the wastelands….


After wandering around mindlessly for a few weeks, we finally got the instructions we were looking for. My dog and I had just been invited to the greatest barbeque of all time. Just a few miles away, on a distant mountain, a great feast awaited us. It sounded like a good plan, and we were keen to take up the offer…


In my heart, I knew that this would be my final journey and although I was tired, there was a part of me that didn’t want this to end. This would be the last time I felt the earth beneath my feet, the last time I breathed this air… However, on the other hand, I really wanted a hotdog. For miles Monty and I continued pacing over the warm dusty landscape. We remained in good spirits and spent many hours talking, just like old times.


We soon encountered a large man attempting to hide amongst some bushes. As you can imagine, in such a large desert, you could soon come across a number of creatures. Most of them I’m happy to ignore but I wanted to take a closer look at this fellow since he reminded me of my uncle. (Uncle Jim sure spent a lot of time with a cone on his head…) Anyway, with a bit of encouragement, we convinced the curious gentleman to step out of his hiding spot…


It seemed pretty unfair that that gigantic fellow wasn’t invited. It made me realise how grateful I should be. I imagine plenty of folks would spend a whole eternity wandering around this place without ever receiving an invite…

We soon parted ways with the giant. Monty and I kept on walking as the sun began its final descent into the horizon. I didn’t feel as talkative as before, but Monty was more than able to fill the void with his fragmented tales of misadventure. Suddenly, I felt a strange presence calling me from a nearby stream…


I’m so close to the mountain. I just need one hotdog. If I could just have one hotdog, it would make everything worthwhile. All the pain, all the hurt…. With each step, the air surrounding me became much more uneasy. It was as if my entire existence was unnatural. I didn’t belong in this world and it felt like everything was pressing against me…

Thankfully, after another hour or so, we arrived at the foot of the mountain. We weren’t too late….


We soon began to make our way up the rock face. Our pace quickened as we were both swept up by a great sense of anticipation. Even Monty was silent now as our efforts became much more focused. The smell and the smoke from the barbeque began to encompass us as we got closer and closer to the cliff edge…


Until, finally, we made it…


The End

(c) 2015 – Daniel Saunders

About Daniel Saunders

Daniel Saunders is a Graphic Novelist and Alternative Therapist based in the UK. His humorous and thought-provoking style often explores complex themes such as life, death, creativity, justice, education, religion and politics.
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