The Funniest Joke in the World

[Cash Money*]

Did you know they had a contest once where they tried to find the funniest joke in the world? One of the winners went something like this:

Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson went camping. They pitched their tent in an open field and went to sleep. Later that night, Holmes wakes Watson up and asks, “Look up and tell me what you see.” Watson replies, “I see thousands upon thousands of stars in the night sky.” Holmes then asks, “What can you deduce from that?” Watson replies, “Temporally, I deduce that it’s the middle of the night. Meteorologically, I deduce that it’s a very clear night out. Geographically, I deduce that we are not anywhere close to a city or anywhere else with bright lights. Astrologically, I deduce that we are in a gigantic galaxy filled with millions upon millions of stars. And theologically, I deduce that we are in the middle of a great, vast, unknowable cosmos.” Holmes then says, “Watson, I deduce that someone has stolen our tent.”

That’s a good one, isn’t it? The problem is, it’s not very funny when it happens to you.

[[M12: Benny Lightfield START]]

Benny Lightfield woke up with a terrible crick in his neck.

"Augh, what the hell happened?", he muttered to himself as he tried moving around. "It feels like somebody beat me with a steel pipe or something." Stumbling to his feet, and straightening out his clothes as he stood up, he looked down at the place where he was just lying down a minute ago.

"Hell, they might as well have."

He was looking down at a railroad track on a fairly large bridge situated over a rather intimidatingly fast river. He realized that one of the steel rails was precisely where his neck had been. That would explain it. He took a look at where the train tracks went, but they disappeared off into the horizon. He squinted to try to make out any details on the horizon as he rubbed his neck, only to be impeded by a collar. What the hell? he thought as he tried feeling around it for any breathing room. It had been coming back to him what had happened before he woke up. Something about killing each other. He didn't like the idea of killing anyone, though. That'd be impolite. Among many other things.

[Brackie]

Ramona Shirley just wanted to throw the oar away, down into the depths of the river to never be seen again.

Her sentiments towards it were ultimately reflective of her ire and her tiredness towards her situation. That is to say, she wanted to stop and leave. But no, there was no leaving. There was no time outs, no foul, no take fives, none of that stuff she'd grown up with in the competitive world of basketball and drama.

But Ramona Shirley was almost certain that she would be okay.

But not without chronic back pain! She'd been woken up by a buzzard almost swooping at her, trying to apparently build a nest in her hair or something. She hadn't asked after the fact, but she'd found herself sprawled across the train tracks, the left rail almost disalinging her back. That was not good for her body.

Then she'd gotten her five seconds of awake, and realised sure enough that everything she'd seen was real. She had indeed been captured by a man from a John Wayne movie with the rest of her class. She had indeed been given rations, a map and loose variation on the word "weapon". She was indeed stranded in the Wild West, the blistering sun threatening to put her out of her misery by giving her a faint head and a dizzy heart.

But most of all, she was indeed relatively calm over her situation.

Maybe it was because unlike so many people, she had the faith to know that not one of her classmates was dead in the head enough to actually go through with the conditions set forth by John Wayne soundalike. She didn't have to run up to people and ask, because she knew very well it wasn't going to happen.

Somewhere along the way, she'd decided to follow the tracks to wherever they would lead. They could have been the one way out, or they could just go around in a loop-de-loop. Ramona didn't' know. So that was why she started walking the tracks.

After a while, she'd spotted the bridge and the river water beneath it. Okay, this was a structure, this was good. Did this mean people? Would other people have the same idea as her?

"Oh Ramona, you have no idea what to do, do you girl?" Ramona muttered to herself as she stared long and hard at the bridge, balanced precariously over the rushing rapids. It was true, she really was not sure how to go about finding friends or people to band together with. Banding together was what this was really all about, you know? Just making sure you've got good people, people who can help you and not fall into the bad light this whole thing really wanted them to do.

So she kept on walking on the rail down the track, bag in one hand and her oar in the other, and guess who was perched atop that bridge?

Well, it wasn't her first ideal choice, but staring down the bridge the same way she was stood Benny. Fellow theatre nerd like her and aspiring comedian, she couldn't imagine a better person to spend the time with while they waited for...

...she wasn't exactly sure what she was waiting for now. Would anyone rescue them? Either way, no time to be a meek mouse, time to use those vocals her momma gave her.

"Benny! Hey Benny! You okay, hun?"

[Cash Money*]

Benny recognized that voice. It belonged to Ramona Shirley, fellow drama person, actually pretty good singer, and always friendly. He whirled around and greeted her at the top of his lungs: "Ramona!" He immediately started sprinting towards her, and promptly tripped over his backpack lying on the tracks in front of him. He fell somewhat hard, but took it like it was a pratfall, got up, and kept running. When he caught up to her, he said, "Hey, how ya doing? I'm fine, and you don't look too worse for wear either, at least for being up a creek. And - oh my God! - you have a paddle. There may be hope for us after all."

He took a couple of glances around to see if there was anything else worth noting, but nothing stood out. Nothing except the oppressive heat, oppressive brightness, and oppressive mood. He then asked, "So what's in your backpack? I think I have one too. It doesn't seem to like me very much," indicating behind him as he spoke.

[Brackie]

It was really inappropriate to be laughing at something like Benny falling over and almost killing himself on the train tracks. It didn't mean she wasn't, though, because Benny just had a knack for being a funny person in the most inopportune of times.

But either way, he asked the stinging questions. What did she get? What did she have? She was over that already. Ramona wasn't sure if Benny realised that the oar in her hands was all she had.

"Well, there was...you know, the usual stuff that the guy told us was in there - map, food, all that jazz, you know? And this. I think this was actually my draw, honey."

There was a flicker of doubt in her smile. Sure, she was happy that she was at least with Benny, but the name of the game still haunted the back of her mind. She tugged uncomfortably at her collar, scratching around at the area of mocha skin under the leather noose.

"Have you seen what you've got yet?"

[Cash Money*]

Ramona had answered his questions in a way that made his question seem kind of stupid. That's right, that guy did say something about provisions. Not to mention there was also something about randomly getting weapons. That paddle certainly could count as a weapon if you could swing it hard enough, now that he thought about it. He wasn't sure if either of them could, though. She seemed rather disappointed with it at any rate, so he decided he might as well employ a little self-deprecation and take the edge off. "Hey, I probably got something worse. With my luck, the best I can hope for is probably another paddle. That way we could have some kind of American Gladiators jousting fight or something." Having a jousting fight seemed like it was the most important thing he could do at that point, given he had no idea what else to do next. But that would mean he'd need to go get his paddle.

He made haste across the bridge and picked up his backpack. He then got off the bridge and set it down in the arid dirt, kneeling in front of the massive thing. "I'll just put this over here, no need to get run over," he said as he unzipped it. Wow, there's a lot of stuff in here, he thought as he dug deeper. Food, water, a map and compass, and a first aid kit were all set to the side as he went, until at the very bottom he saw... a gun? He reached for it and touched it. The feel of steel greeted his fingers. Yep. That's a gun.

"Da-da-da-DAH!" he exclaimed as he dramatically rose the oddly-shaped pistol into the air with both hands as if he'd just opened a chest in a video game dungeon. He turned to Ramona and said, "Hey, I think I got a real live gun!" before he started pointing it into the open air, trying get a feel for it as he racked his brain for a movie quote. There were just too many to pick from, though, so instead he just said "Pew pew pew!" a couple of times. Then he double checked the bag and found some bullets and an instruction manual. Checking over the items, he said, "At least we have something so we can defend ourselves. On the other hand, if this thing actually fires, then this guy wasn't kidding."

[Brackie]

Sadly for Benny, Ramona didn't watch much TV, so she had barely enough of an idea about what he was going on about to understand the references or the humour. But she couldn't not smile at him - he was just an entertaining guy to be around.

As he ran back towards the backpack he had previously tripped over, she had a look of bewilderment, just wondering how on earth this guy functioned in real stressful situations. She had to wipe it as he came running back towards the dirt, though, don't make him think you think he's crazy.

But the way he was acting didn't leave much to the imagination. She followed him over to the dirt, oar and bag still hand in hand in the air, and much to her surprise, he actually pulled out a gun. An odd-looking gun, like it had a turkey wattle or something. Ramona wasn't particularly paying attention to the shape of the gun, no she was quite more concerned with the fact that he was waving a gun around like it was nothing.

Now Ramona wasn't a particularly pro-gun person, she wasn't even sure she'd ever seen a real gun before, but the sight of the barrel, the thing she only knew as the place where the bullets come out, she reflexively put her hands out, still carrying her stuff, towards it.

"Uh, Benny, could you, not swing that around? I don't wanna see you get hurt or anything, that wouldn't be a great start."

She was smiling, but it was still a nervous smile. She was pleased to know that if everyone who got a gun was like Benny here, maybe their class was in better hands than she thought. If the nice people, the funny people like Benny could be the ones who make sure nobody around here died, then Ramona would be happy.

[Cash Money*]

Once Ramona had mentioned that, yes, that's a gun and he probably shouldn't be pointing it at random, he calmed down a little. He was usually pretty hyper, but the whole ordeal he had just been through had taken some of it out of him. Now he was more nervous than anything else - it was all he could do just to diffuse the tension. He had no idea where he was, no idea what to do, no idea when he might make it back, no idea what his parents were thinking - no direction at all. Admitting that the gun he had was real would probably make his mood even worse. He was already halfway there, given that his weapon had already passed the duck test with flying colors. It looked like a pistol - a really weird one, at that - and felt like a pistol, and he really didn't want to know if it quacked like one, despite what he'd just said.

For Ramona's sake and his own, he set it aside and started putting everything else back in the bag. He would cross that bridge whenever he came to it, but right now he had another bridge to cross: the actual bridge. Placing the pistol in the top of the backpack and making sure he had the instruction manual and the map out before zipping it, he corrected his earlier statement: "Come to think of it, I'd rather not test that thing out right now, especially if I have no idea how it works. For all I know, it's just got a flag that says "BANG" in there." He wasn't sure what was worse: if it did and they were unarmed, or if everything was real. He changed the subject entirely: "So, was there anything interesting out that way?", gesturing at the expanse from which she came.

[Brackie]

"Along there? I walked from there for about I don't know how long, and I didn't see much. I mean, this is the only thing I've seen for almost an hour, half an hour?"

Ramona scratched her chin as she pointed out to where she came and explained. There didn't seem to be anything visible from where they were now, at least not to the naked eye. The Wild West was a wide and expansive place, and chances are they weren't going to take the tourist's route and just go where they saw something.

"My best guess, Benny? We should just check the map to see where we are and where we should go."

Ramona wasn't exactly the Sherlock Holmes of deducing the obvious, but either way it was the simplest and easiest thing to do right now.

[K-Robe]

Patrick Reynolds rubbed the back of his head as he tried his best to deduce his current situation. His thoughts went something like this:

Train. Cowboy voice. PA System. Weird gas. How the hell did they get gas in here? Sleepy... What the hell? River? Bridge? Collar? Kill or be killed, or something? What the hell is going on? Oh man, this sucks.

Patrick lifted himself up and scanned his surroundings. He was under a bridge of some kind, made of metal. Looking down, he found that he was on a similar bridge, except made of wood. Patrick inhaled sharply, thinking about just what was happening.

From what he'd gathered, the cowboy guy over the PA system had told them him and his classmates to kill each other. Apparently, there would be some consequence if they didn't do this. Patrick figured that it probably had something to do with the weird collar, which if the cowboy guy was to be believed, was not something to be messed with.

Maybe it'll explode or something.

Patrick looked at the ground (wood, Patrick) beneath his feet. Said feet were situated right next to a brown backpack. Patrick remembered the cowboy something about daypacks with supplies. As he was about to search through it, he started hearing footsteps and voices from above him.

"Benny! Hey Benny! You okay, hun?"

"Ramona!"

Patrick grinned. Well, he sure felt lucky. He'd managed to run into two of his theatre buddies right when he needed them the most. Patrick tried to figure out the best way to get up there. He saw a wooden staircase leading up to the surface at the end of the bridge. Perfect! Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he ran up to it and quickly climbed it.

Now, he could plainly see the two having a conversation about... something.

"My best guess, Benny? We should just check the map to see where we are and where we should go," said Ramona.

Putting on his best smile, Patrick approached the pair.

"Hey guys! It's Patrick!"

[Cash Money*]

Benny took a look down at the map, trying to find a bridge, when he suddenly heard another voice coming from across the bridge. He looked over to see Patrick Reynolds approaching them. Yes! They were finding people, and friendly ones at that! He greeted him with a big wave.

"Hey Patrick! Ramona and I were just here trying to figure out what's going on. Nice to see you! If things keep going at this rate, we could put on a full production in no time! Question, though: where did you come from? I had no idea you were part mole." He then thought of a more practical question before going back to the map: "What's your weapon?"

[Brackie]

Ramona looked over the smaller boy's shoulder while Benny examined the map, but she hadn't waited that long until, loe and behold, another one of her friends from theatre turned up, Patrick. Poor boy was always very enthusiastic, like a puppy, but not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. It was astonishing he hadn't died of shock the moment he woke up, she had actually feared for her classmates like Patrick.

While Benny also spotted Patrick and started motor-mouthing, Ramona couldn't help but smile. Group dynamics, a sense of normalcy. This was good, it was the interactions like this that kept her and her friends from thinking about the worser things that would happen. Normal teenagers speaking about normal things.

"Holy moly, let him speak, Benny!" Ramona had to interject right after he asked for his weapon.

"Glad you're okay, Patrick. You haven't seen anyone else around here have you?" That's the other thing Ramona was really worried about - the three of them were safe for the moment, but what about the rest of the club? Pepper, Big Mike, or even Katie? There was that saying, "safety in numbers", it was apt, right?

[K-Robe]

Patrick couldn't help but keep grinning. He'd found his friends; even better, he'd found allies. Maybe the next few days wouldn't be spent angsting over killing his classmates after all. In fact, the moment he approached, Benny started asking him questions like crazy.

Typical Benny, Patrick thought.

"Holy moly, let him speak, Benny!"

Also, typical Ramona.

Well, it looked like time spent in this place, whatever it was called (The Zone, remember Patrick?) wouldn't be that different from time spent at the theatre club. Except he figured he would have to kill people. That was still a bummer.

Patrick turned to Benny. "Well, if you look down there," Patrick pointed toward the end of the metal bridge, "there's a staircase that leads to a wooden bridge. Woke up down there, heard you, and now here I am!"

Then Patrick remembered something. "Wait, weapon? Oh yeah." He set his backpack down and started rummaging through it. Just like the cowboy said, there were supplies and food in here, enough to last a few days. There was something else in there, too and Patrick vaguely remembered clanging glass while he climbed the stairs. He pulled out two long, green bottles with cloth hanging out. Patrick couldn't help but chuckle a little at his luck.

"If I'm not mistaken, and usually I am, these are molotov cocktails. Welp, looks like I need to practice my throwing skills if I want to use these."

Patrick then turned to Ramona to answer her question. "And no, I haven't seen anyone else yet. I just woke up a few minutes ago; you two are the first people I've seen."

Patrick shook his head. He had other friends in this Zone, too. He needed to find them, and it shouldn't be too hard to find them with Ramona and Benny.

"But, you were saying something about checking the map?"

[Cash Money*]

Benny listened - intently, as Ramona had just reminded him that his mouth was about to outrun the river below them again - as Patrick told him about the staircase nearby. Well of course there's a staircase there. Benny wasn't exactly the most observant guy when it came to his surroundings. He leaned over for just a second to look at it. He would feel like investigating if it wasn't for Patrick already having been there. If there was anything of note, he surely would have seen it. Instead, he just listened some more - it could certainly help. He watched intently as Patrick pulled out everything he'd seen before, and waited for the weapon reveal.

After the long string of foodstuffs and other necessary items, Patrick pulled out some bottles with cloth hanging out of them. He identified them as Molotov cocktails. "Looks like I need to practice my throwing skills if I want to use these."

Benny couldn't help but make a quip. "At least it's better than drinking them."

Patrick continued answering questions. He said he hadn't seen anyone else. That was a shame, but it wasn't like he didn't expect that. If Ramona had gone for so long without seeing anyone, what hope did Patrick have? This place looked gigantic, anyway. In any case, they had several more people to find: Big Mike, Katie, and that's not even mentioning those who helped out: Delilah, Rebecca, Sam... they had to get moving. It's not like people were going to come to them - bridges weren't exactly going to be the highlights of anyone's trip. Speaking of which, they were just about to look at the map, weren't they? He looked at the map again, saying,

"Yep. We're trying to figure out where we might find everyone else. If we follow the train tracks, we might end up at either the town or a trading post. Those are like general stores or something, right? Anyway, we might try that." He looked up. Things were working out almost as okay as he was pretending they were. They were nowhere close to a full production, but they had a group dynamic. Patrick and Benny could be the crazy guys with weapons, and Ramona would be a calming influence. No wait, when he put it like that the crazy overrode the sensible, and that was never good. He kept that last thought to himself, though.

[Brackie]

Weapon discussion. It wasn't something Ramona could really get into, it didn't appeal to her to "whip it out of the garage and measure" as her momma once told her in a discussion about boys. Funny quips weren't her forte anyway.

Ramona peered over Benny's shoulder as he checked the map, finally getting a good idea of where they were. How long and how slow had she been sauntering along those rails? She must have not been paying attention if all these places were nearby. Either way, she nodded softly as Benny rambled on and pointed out the best choices.

"That sounds like a plan, sugar dolls. Head to town, find everyone we can, and stay put and wait until..." Ramona trailed off at the end there.

"Uh...till we can get out of here, I suppose. There's gotta be a way, we just need to find it."

Ramona wasn't sure if she actually believed what she was saying, but the point of the words were just to set in motion meaning and a plan. Keep the three of them safe and not tempted to go off on their own, where something dangerous was always lurking on the horizon. In the desert, everywhere was the horizon, so that was that.

Besides, she had to be the calm rational one here, like her parents would want.

[K-Robe]

"At least it's better than drinking them."

Patrick's smile wavered a little. Alcohol wasn't the best of subjects for him, his father being the main contributer to this feeling. Patrick also couldn't help but briefly wonder if he'd even be in the Zone if it wasn't for his dad. And now that just made him think about his mother. God, what would she be thinking right now?

He sighed lightly. "Well... let's just hope that I won't have to use these too much," he said, holding up one of the bottles. He placed the pair of incendiary bottles back in his backpack.

Then Benny and Ramona started talking about where to go. Patrick looked over Benny's shoulder, like Ramona. Patrick pointed at the outline of a town.

"It sounds like a good idea to head to town. It'll have shops and saloons and things, right? We'll be able to gather food and some weapons, and maybe we'll even find a few of our friends along the way. We'll have a blast, guys!" Patrick tried to act more enthusiastic, especially since Ramona was looking so sullen.

"That sounds like a plan, sugar dolls. Head to town, find everyone we can, and stay put and wait until... Uh...till we can get out of here, I suppose. There's gotta be a way, we just need to find it." Ramona said this in a nervous tone, obviously not entirely convinced they'd get out of this situation unscathed.

Patrick placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her. "We'll get through it, alright? No one makes a perfect system. There has to be a way out for sure. Until then, we can go sauntering off as the... uh, Theatre Trio! Yeah, that sounds good!"

Patrick smiled brightly. Theatre Trio; he liked the sound of that. This was becoming more like a movie by the second.

And Patrick loved movies.