Day One: Morning

[Bojack]

"Wow," Bojack exclaimed, "it's John Wayne!"

"Heya pilgrim."

"Gee golly goodness John Wayne, what are you doing here?"

"I jus came ta... give you a little advice is all."

"What kind of advice, John Wayne?"

"Well, fer starters... you can get up off yer ass and get movin'. This ain't do damned picnic, and the sooner you realize that the... better off you'll be."

"What?" Bojack asked.

John Wayne turned around, his rock hard ass a perfect apricot in those worn blue jeans. He made a majestic, sweeping motion towards the landscape.

"This here's the planet Dante. Every year... about forty cowboys come to this place to show off their grit to the rest of the universe. You get nothin' but a bag... a weapon or two, and a collar around your neck to remind you every moment that yer not goin' anywhere anytime soon."

"That's good," Bojack said, "I don't really want to go anywhere."

"That right," John asked, "well I got news for ya pilgrim... your luck isn't gonna be any better here. I know about this... "escapin' from Hell business", and I'm here to tell ya... you're gonna spend most of your time here doin' the same damned thing."

Bojack looked at the sky, at the puffy masses bloated with early morning sun.

"If what you say is true, John," Bojack said, "and I am fucked either way, which I know I am... what do you suggest I do?"

John Wayne turned to him, his heroic stance outlined in an ethereal glow by the fresh day. His brimmed hat leaned to the side, his wrinkled face curled into that beautiful smile he was known for. That smile that made you think John had been through it all two times over, and that whatever he had to say was the god-damned-honest-to-God truth. His pistols shined, his chest glistened through that unbuttoned Waylon Jennings shirt. His blue eyes gleamed, and as Bojack looked into them, a tear formed at the corner of his own. This wasn't a damn impostor, this was The Duke himself.

"You gotta grin and bare it, son... and most importantly, you gotta survive."

Bojack sniffled.

"You ready ta get movin' or what?"

"Yes, John Wayne!"

Bojack jumped to his feet, dusting the seat of his pants. He slung his backpack over his shoulders, his weapon tucked snugly into the elastic of his pants.

"Now," John said, "I say go northeast... I just got a gut feelin' that you shouldn't stay here no longer than ya already have."

"Northeast. Sure thing Duke."

Duke was gone. There was nothing but a cold morning breeze in his place. Bojack turned to face northeast, a renewed sense of purpose stirring in his heart.



I'm John Wayne, and I approve this god-damned post.