Back In Bug and The Daily Prompt

Daily Prompt: Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

What is the best dream you’ve ever had? Recount it for us in all its ethereal glory. If no dream stands out in your memory, recount your worst nightmare. Leave no frightening detail out.

Marty dreamed of going to Hollywood and someday becoming a star. We all wake up from dreams and return to reality only to find that reality is better than the dream. This is the conclusion to yesterday’s story of Marty’s dream. Hope you enjoy.

(Continued from yesterday.)


The Man From Bug – Part 2

Marty was safely on the bus. His mental state was nothing like he thought it might be. He planned if he failed at acting he would never return to Oregon. He thought he’d rather work at a car wash.

As the bus weaved along the curved highway that cut through the gaps and valleys of mountains leading to Bug he longed to see at last the flat plains of home. He wanted to smell the rich odor of cow manure, hay, straw, combined with diesel fuel, grease, and oil. He wanted to smell a wet horse and saddle leather. He wanted to ride into the mountains and pretend to look for strays only to rest his head on a rock and look up at the clouds.

“Bug, Oregon in five minutes,” the driver announced over the muffled intercom. “It’s a fifteen minute stop. Diner and a grocery.”

Marty smiled and mumbled, “And a whole lot more.”

The range dotted with cattle and antelope passed by like the reel of a movie. “Every man has a roll,” he thought. “And this must be mine.” He thought of the Glen Campbell song Rhinestone Cowboy and the lyric, ‘There will be a load of compromisin’ on the road to my horizon.’ “There can be no compromise for happiness.”

The bus pulled into the parking lot. All 12 passenger got off and stretched. Some headed for the diner others to the grocery.

The driver pulled Marty’s two bags from the baggage area beneath the bus. “This home?” he said.

“Yeah,” Marty said. “Be it ever so humble.”

“There’s no place like it, is there,” the driver said.

“Yep,” Marty said.

Marty tossed his bags on a bench next to the grocery‘s entrance. He hesitated for a moment and remembered that’s where Henry talked to him a year earlier. Marty dug in his pocket for change to call Henry and ask to pick him up.

He only had a dime and a nickel. He pulled out his billfold and got a dollar.

As he placed his hand on the door he heard a familiar voice. “Need some change, cowboy?” It was Henry.

“What a coincidence,” Marty smiled.

“Not really,” Henry said. “I’ve been coming to the diner every day for the past six months. I was kinda waiting for ya.”

“You knew all along didn’t you?” Marty said.

“No one knows anything for sure,” Henry said. “But I had a hunch.”

“Can ya buy me dinner,” Marty said. “I appear to be short of funds.”

“Sure,” Henry said and they walked towards the diner. “Tell me about Hollywood.”

“Well,” Marty said. “I was reading for a roll and doing really good and this director, Torrance something or other takes me aside…”

Henry stopped. “Walton.”

“Yeah,” Marty said. “Torrance Walton.”

“Wow,” Henry said. “He’s the reason I’m back in Bug. It’s a small world. Imagine two guys from Bug knowing a famous director.”

“Well, let me tell you about Torrance,” Marty said.

“No,” Henry said. “Me first.” Henry slapped Marty on the back and nodded toward the entrance to the diner. “Come on, boy. Let’s swap some stories, but I got the feeling we going to tell the same story about ole Torrance.”





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