Page 69 of Dock

“That means do not rock.”

Laughter threatens to leave me when Kegger calls out, “Boy, what you know about Fraggle Rock?”

“Whaaaattttt!!!” Our French and Spanish speaking pyro calls jeers back. “What do you know about Fraggle Rock?”

Feeling around some poorly wrapped standing lamps is done to the sound of my best friend gasping, “Get the fuck out of here. Fraggle Rock was like must see shit for all mini Misfits here in Avallone.”

“Really?” Flames throws at me.

“Wouldn’t know.” Patting down an oval shaped sofa occurs next. “Wasn’t raised in the club.”

“He came later,” Kegger gingerly reminds.

The two of us were found.

Flames and his old man – a widowed firefighter – are recent transplants from the Montana chapter.

Like having Nomads, it’s rare.

But it does happen.

“That shit taught us the fuckin’ fundamentals to wearin’ this cut,” Kegger continues, his voice fading in and out between scrapes of more crates and dining room chairs being pushed around. “Diversity-”

“Fraggles, Doozers, and Gorgs,” Flames casually lists.

“How shit’s all connected-”

“How their shit,” a pause is taken, I assume to make a hand motion, “effects their shit and their shit,” a second halt in the convo is had, “effects their shit.”

“And,” my best friend precedes upon my searching of an end table, “fixing shit without their having to be shit.”

“Peaceful and productive.”

“The Misfit way.”

“The Misfit way.”

“Plus, there were some dark fucking episodes-”

“So fucking dark.”

“-that prepared us for some of the dark fucking shit ahead.”

“Legit.”

“Can I get an amen?”

“Amen.”

Right as I prepare to interrupt their odd brotherly babbles, a faint noise from the corner catches my attention, leading me to lift my blade to a more defensive aim.

“You see something?” Flames curiously calls out, a question that prompts me to lift my weapon free hand in the air to acknowledge he’s been heard in spite of not being answered.

Verbally speaking would certainly give away my position.

And that’s the last thing I want whoever’s lurking to fucking know.

Carefully, I maneuver around more stacked crates.