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Groovy Tunes, Thursday

One might ask how exactly a man without a head could possibly appreciate the music that was being played today at the Groovy Tunes.

... Okay, in fairness, there were probably a lot of questions that someone might ask first. Like, 'how are you not dead?' or 'what happened?' And, truth be told, Jono couldn't answer either of those questions, really. He wasn't dead because powers? There was a thing in the park? Only... he was coming to notice that there were moments where he seemed to lapse completely, where he couldn't quite remember any sort of rift. Or, somewhere around the edges of his consciousness, he remembered something else completely. In fact, when he'd come out of his room and headed downstairs to open the music shop, it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Of course he was opening the music shop. How was this week different from any other?

And as the day progressed, he found himself getting more and more frustrated by his occasional inability to really put a finger on what was the matter at all. Something was eating at him from the inside, leaving him feeling sick to his stomach, causing his flames to twist under his helmet in strange ways as the very core of his being tried to compensate for whatever the hell had happened to him over the weekend.

That meant that today was a Pearl Jam day. And Jono didn't even notice when he crossed the line from 'having to focus hard in order to be able to listen to the stereo through his cat's sense of hearing,' to 'simply being aware of the state of the entire room around him,' at all.

It was a Thursday. And something was the matter, though with increasing frequency throughout the day, Jono really wouldn't be able to tell you what that something was.

[Open! OCD-free!]

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Right, so, she'd heard about this on Monday night, but Tuesday was for sleeping, and Wednesday for working. So here was Kenzi. Without a mocha.

"Hey, Jonothon."

Okay. Helmet. Hunh.

//Kenzi,// Jono greeted, nodding at her with the helmet with the ease of somebody who had been wearing it in the place of a head for a long, long while. //How're you today, luv?//

It was probably for the best that she didn't have a mocha. Just because he had most of his internal organs didn't mean he had any way to get a drink into them, after all.

And it would be mean not to share, yeah.

"Not too bad. Wishing I was still on vacation. In the mood for some downbeat tunes." Things were weird, okay? "Cecil's all old." And you don't have a head, dude.

Believe him, Kenzi, he'd noticed.

And then he noticed a little less.

//Cecil's old?// That helmet tilted a little, slowly. It would have been a curious gesture if it belonged to anyone who didn't have a nightmarish mask where his face should have been, with flame blazing fiercely behind it. //Old how?//

"He's like 35 or something! On Sunday he was seventeen, and then he came into Caritas and asked for a drink and he was a grown-up!"

No fair!

"Which, I know he was 35 before he had to come here to school, but still... Do you have a tune for that?"

Also, she was kinda wondering if Sparkle had been smoking some bad ganja, if he was going to be applying to college.

//Changes, by Bowie,// Jono offered without hesitation. //Or perhaps Springsteen's Glory Days.//

There really was a song for everything out there. Jono was going to stand by that opinion firmly. Forever.

//Did he say what happened? A trip back to Night Vale and then the timestreams misaligned? I've had that happen to me before.//

He remembered it happening twice. Once. A year in a week. A decade in a month. Both. Neither. He raised a hand to the side of his helmet as he tried to remember which it was.

Seeing the gesture, Kenzi asked, "You okay, Jonothon? I mean, you know. Aside from the obvious." To Kenzi, anyway.

"Oh, who can tell with Cecil. This is the guy whose hometown makes you declare extra limbs for tax purposes. For all I know, maybe he just morphs into middle-age every spring." Kenzi made a face. "And Bowie. You can never go wrong with Bowie."

Jonothon certainly hadn't gone wrong with Bowie, though he was currently having difficulty remembering just why that was a bragging point, so he settled on the other part.

//The obvious?// Something was obviously not alri-- //Oh, my... The... I mean...//

If he had eyebrows, they would have been furrowed deeply in concentration.

//I've been having some difficulty today. I keep going back and forth to thinking there's something horribly the matter, and then not being able to remember quite what it is. I was screaming, a few days ago. I remember Cecil in the park - he was young then, too - and there had been a...//

He balled his hands into fists as it slipped away again.

//Would you like me to show you where we keep the Bowie?//

"Jonothon?" Dude was not alright. "I-- can I help? What do I--"

Okay, this sounded bad on a scale of saga to epic. Bowie was awesome, but this was important.

//Help me find the Bowie?// And then it was gone, and Jonothon's psionic voice sounded distinctly amused. //I've been working here for years, Kenzi. I'd like to think I know where to find it by now.//

"Hunh?" What? First he looks like his head is going to explode - again - and then he wants the Bowie?

"Sure, okay... uh. You're not in pain, or anything? Burning? More than usual?"

And that question earned her a long silence as Jono watched her, not with any eyes that could be seen, but with all of his senses, his psionic powers picking out her place in the room, the look on her face, even vague traces of the emotions that she was sorting through.

//Of course I'm not. And if that's meant to be some manner of joke, Kenzi, it's in terrible taste.//

"Dude, I was not joking," Kenzi said very very quickly. "You were hunching over and... I mean, the whole helmet thing is -- new, and. I get worried, okay? How would I tell if you were in worse shape than always?"

//I'm standing up and communicating. That's always a good indication,// Jono answered, mildly. //The helmet is hardly new, Kenzi. I've had it for ye--//

He balked, and the flame behind the eyes of the mask flickered to blue.

//Days. It's been days. Dear god, it's only been since Sunday. I... I was about to say...// He shuddered and grabbed at the sides of the helmet again. //It's only been days.//

Kenzi's eyes widened, and her fingers dug into the counter. "That's what Cecil said. Monday. That you'd just-- you had a face but bandages before I left!" she babbled. "You're freaking me out! Which, uh. No, I'm not freaking out! Jonothon, should we be freaking out?"

//I spent hours on Sunday night on the ground in the snow, just screaming,// Jono replied, though he was saying those words slowly, as though trying to pick a memory out of something buried deep down. //There was a... a something... in the air in front of me. I can't remember what. And then everything was dark, though I can't remember why. I just remember being upset. I remember being very upset, and then Cecil let me look through his eyes.//

He tilted his head at her again, or, rather, he tilted the helmet that took his head's place.

//Why would I have to look through Cecil's eyes? I can see just fine. I've been able to for ages, since I learned how to cope with what happened in the Program...//

The appropriate response to her question was probably 'Yes, we should be freaking out.'

Edited 2014-03-06 22:47 (UTC)

"Program," Kenzi repeated weakly. Because now it was real clear that Jonothon was switching back and forth between remembering Sunday as the first day of having no head... and thinking it happened years ago. "Jonothon, it hasn't been years. I swear. It was only five days ago."

There was not enough David Bowie in the world for this.

//Five days? Five days since what?// Now he sounded worried, and he wasn't entirely certain what he was worried about. He suspected with a sinking feeling that it was himself, but he couldn't put a finger on why. //I... I don't feel very well, I don't think...//

The room was flickering. One moment he could see it, and the next, everything was dark except there was a sense that Kenzi was there with him. They were having a conversation, though he wasn't entirely certain what that conversation was about.

//Program...? W-what do you know about the Program?// A beat. //Nothing. You don't know anything about it, that's not what we were talking about at all. Then what...? Me. Me. My-- Why can't I see?//

Maybe he should have stayed in his room today after all.

Oh shit. "I think you need a doctor. Or a physicist. Or a-- a somebody." Kenzi took a step forward, one hand out. "Something's really wrong, buddy. But maybe someone else should figure it out? So you can, I dunno. Be okay?" Someone with more magic or science or skills than her, because Kenzi had no idea what to do, or say, or-- "Do you want to go upstairs? Or--"

//The world's been put together wrong,// Jono murmured, bunching his shoulders a little, crouching down to pick up the kitten that had approached, and was now winding around his ankles, mewing at his distress. //Or else I've been. I can't quite tell which, Kenzi...//

But she was right. He needed... something. Joni was helping. Joni was a constant between his two minds. He'd had her since high school. George had given her to him in a panic. A little something that made sense, and the world was spinning around him a little less as she licked his fingers.

//It gets worse the more I think about it. Which is it? Who am I meant to be?//

Upstairs. Upstairs sounded good. He was turning toward the door to the back room, but nothing seemed quite solid around him and he didn't dare take a step.

Edited 2014-03-07 00:53 (UTC)

"I gotcha," Kenzi said, approaching carefully, putting out her arm for him to grab. "And, I'm so the wrong person to ask. But you're my friend. We'll figure this out. Fix it, somehow."

Everything was scarier if Jonothon couldn't remember what had happened. And if he was right about the *world* being wrong, that was even more-- yeah.

"Maybe you just need some sleep. Sort it out." She swallowed, heading toward the back room. "Rest is good."

//Never was very good at sleep.// He could say that with some certainty, too. Apparently insomnia was another fun constant that Jonothon had to live with no matter what manner of screwed-up he was. //Probably shouldn't've come t'work today, though...//

He leaned on her a little more heavily as another wave of something like nausea hit him, and the flame behind his mask flickered blue again. If he still had a face, he imagined his nose would be bleeding right then. If he still had a head, he was certain it would have been throbbing.

//Rest is good, though. I could probably use more of it.//

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Groovy Tunes, Thursday

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