They weren’t quite sure what to do. They had just gone from “Wez gunna kill ya and chew your tentacles like bubble gum” to “hello and welcome to our humble cult.” So they just stood there frozen until Straight nudged Dago to move.

“Fuck you. You go first,” Dago responded.

“You’re the one with the goddamn map,” Straight said.

Mulligan took this opportunity to wander off with plans all his own. When no one immediately jumped on him and tried to rip his throat out, Straight and Dago followed his lead, looking for some clue as to why they were here.

“Where the hell were we?” asked Jesse.

“I believe we were on S5-19,” said a faceless member of the crowd.

“I believe you are right, and what did we learn from that story?”

Those were about the last words Dago heard before he tuned them out and turned his attention to his surroundings. To his left was an old pinball machine that Straight had made a beeline for once they had broke formation. Beyond that, a set of double doors that led to the kitchen or what Dago perceived to be the kitchen due to the original sign hanging over the doors stating that fact, but there was a newer sign that was on the doors themselves that read SANCTUARY. A quick look around the walls showed him a brief summary of every road sign and license plate ever created. Dago needed a beer. He headed to the bar and climbed atop one of the bolted down stools as he awaited the triumphant return of the absent bartender. He hoped they were a chick, and that they were hot, or at least decent. Hell, he’d settle for average or just below average. There was something about bartenders and how they expected a tip after every drink that in Dago’s mind made them one step away from being a prostitute, and he liked that. Dago looked over at Mulligan, who was at the other end of the bar staring at the door to the walk-in freezer. Dago wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. He doubted they served vials of alcohol that Mulligan could inject himself with.

“Sorry guys, beers only for patrons of the church,” Jesse said, reading Dago’s mind.

“What about that stuff?” Dago asked, pointing to a row of bottles jugs and jars on a shelf.

“That’s Uncle Jesse’s Sour Mash Whiskey, and it’s only for sacrament and special occasions.

Dago replied with a frown and a slump of the shoulders before nodding in acceptance. It was then he noticed the bathroom door seemed out of place. Like it had been constructed as an afterthought. He took a quick glance at the one next to it. It was almost exact to the men’s except it had a woman’s silhouette on the door and the word HOG next to that. This group was definitely not going to be accepting any awards from the feminist movement any time soon. He pulled out his map faster than he pulled out of most women, which lead him down an old familiar train of thought about the possibility of illegitimate children. leaving him to wonder what the odds were of him banging his own daughter, or even worse, his own… Oh, god! You know what? We’re just going to end this line of thinking right here.

“Straight, get over here,” Dago said, trying not to think if his dick had ever been engulfed in his own… Nope. Nope. We are not doing this.

“What is it?” Straight asked.

“Take a look at this,” Dago said, pointing at the map.

Straight was a little hesitant to leave the vintage Adam’s Family pinball machine. It’s not like he even had a quarter, but man, this thing was cool. He reluctantly hit the button on the front before turning toward Dago. The machine lit up, ejecting a stainless steel ball from its magical recesses.

“Hey man, you mind not touching that? You being covered in grease and all,” Jesse said.

Straight jumped back from the machine as if it had shocked him.

“Hell, someone get that man a towel so he can play that damn game.”

Dago looked down at the map. The male symbol on their destination matched the one on the bathroom door. He looked back at Straight, who was focused on the pinball game. Mulligan was nowhere to be seen. He had just been here a second ago. Fuck it, he would check out the bathroom by himself. He hadn’t needed anyone to accompany him to the bathroom since he was four. Why should today be any different? He headed toward the door with the tunnel vision and determination of a fat man who hat just eaten at a Mongolian Grill.