Generation Why Bother

The last comic series that showed up on Johnny Cool’s website was a sketchy one. Literally. It was drawn in pencil lines – it wasn’t even inked, and it held all the loose character of a rough draft. Like all of the other Hoshiko-centric mini comics, it was interesting, but this one was more than four panels. It was an entire web page.

Johnny and Maryanne were walking in the city with Hoshiko beside them, but you could only see the humans from the neck-down. It was all from the alien cat’s point of view, and for this reason, that made it all the more exciting when Hoshiko caught a whiff of what was described as the most delicious street smell he’d ever sniffed.

The cat ran through streets and down sidewalks to track down the tantalizing scent. In the process, he kind of ditched his human companions, and being absent-minded, the first thing on his mind was food. If all else failed, he could just navigate his way back to Johnny’s apartment and wait there. Delicious nourishment came first!

Buildings and detailed sketches of the city streets sat in the background of Hoshiko’s adventure to find the source of the meaty smell. He jetted through those streets on light toes, happily getting closer and closer, when just around the corner, there it was – a hot dog vendor.

Hoshiko got up right next to the stand and stared up at the grill with eager eyes, his tail flicking about. The vendor, a skinny guy with bushy black hair, was frying up the hot dogs with such a cool aura that at first he didn’t even notice the cat practically begging for a bite. He took a second look at the furball standing next to him, and did a double take.

“What the…a cat in clothes?” he said.

Hoshiko purred and meowed as cute as he could.

You could see the guy’s heart melt. “Aww, are you hungry?” he smiled, eyes growing larger.

And that’s how Hoshiko ended up eating a hot dog on a nice clean plate right next to that vendor. It was every bit as tasty as he imagined it to be, and when Johnny and Maryanne caught up to their friend, they couldn’t even pretend to be mad at such a happy creature. Even if there wasn’t a real conflict to the comic, the art was still great and showed the serious detail Anchor was still putting into his work even if he didn’t have all of the time in the world to make them. It kept the hope alive.

Finding a hot dog vendor in New York City probably would have been a lot easier than finding Riley in Chicago, though.

Looking back, one of us probably should’ve stopped him from leaving somehow, yet after all the chaos that clouded our heads, I guess it didn’t occur to anybody, so I can’t really talk. Seconds after the door shut, though, Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose and grunted, “Well, shit. Now what?”

Chance answered the rhetorical question. “We should probably go find him…”

Andy, a newfound excitement brewing in his bones, clapped his hands together and boisterously said, “Good idea! Chuck, Oshie – you guys go out and find that fart and bring him back, dead or alive.” He pointed at Chuck and I, probably the weirdest combination. We glanced at each other and man, I could feel the awkward from a mile away. “And Tegan, Chance – you two stay here and keep an eye out in case he comes back, because Anthony, you’re coming with me.”

“To do what?” Anthony squeaked with narrow eyes.

“I need to talk to you,” Andy replied in a calmer but more serious tone.

He grunted and muttered some things in protest, grudgingly stepping towards his reluctant best friend. Though I desperately wondered what the heck they fought about, it would just be stupid to ask directly.

“Alright, everybody do your thing!” Andy commanded. “And if anybody sees Mick, just fill him in and tell him to stay here!”

“W-wait, what if something happens to me and Chuck?” I asked, realizing the stupidity of the question right in the middle of saying it.

Andy’s eyes flashed with something I’d never seen from him towards me before – a little bit of anger. “You have the power of lightning now, you can handle it,” he deadpanned. I tried to tell myself he was being sarcastic, but something told me he wasn’t. There was just this bitterness in his gaze and tone that felt so foreign. I’d have expected it from Anthony, maybe, but Andy?

So I looked away and attempted to cover up the hurt. I didn’t try to find any more meaning in what he said or how he said it. Besides, it’d probably get swept under the rug in the scheme of things, and there was other business that had to be taken care of.

Like a painfully uncomfortable scavenger hunt with someone I only knew from stalking him on the Internet.