love and anarchy

Watching the couple dine on the train I couldn't help but wonder how they had gotten together in the first place.

What was up with his golden afro? He was as pale as I was. And she was wearing a business suit, all pin stripes and obviously crypto-riche.

The castle was two days journey ahead, and we had no way to know who would be getting there first, the Johnsons, or my team.

When the gasping attendant wrapped up the night’s work, it was clear that the couple was not a couple at all.

They were the Johnsons, the most unlikely of twins, and underneath that golden afro was the key to the treasure: a map of the dungeon, tattooed when he was still in the incubator, having been born prematurely.

There was only one thing I could do. Decouple the train car and head to the castle via helicopter. I would have to use the force of laughter to gain momentum. But what was funny?

Pointing at the Johnsons, at the height of his hair, the laughter from the other diners shook the car and I made my move. The helicopter took up me up via my umbrella.

I had transferred the map of the dungeon into the quantum mechanics of the joke. I would be eating that treasure, a golden candy bar, by midnight.