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I glanced at the advertising truck, and saw River and Waboombas looking at me with serious concern as they paced us, moving in and out of traffic, working hard to stay close. I smiled and gave them the thumbs-up, which didn’t seem to ease their minds at all.

Unaffected by their lack of faith in me, I skittered to the other side of the limo and stuck my head down, reaching for the door handle. I knew it would be locked, but I was trying to give the idea that I was attempting to get in a little more authenticity. I rattled it once, then jerked quickly back up to narrowly avoid another glass-shattering gunshot.

“And a ‘textile’!” I yelled through the newly opened window.

“What’s that? I have to believe it’s somehow derogatory. Like, people who see themselves as what they wear, more than what they are?” Washburne’s gun appeared again and fired—more or less in the direction of my voice—and I rolled aside to avoid it.

How many bullets does that gun hold?

Maybe that wasn’t what I needed to be worrying about right now.

I scampered my way forward to the front of the limo, figuring it was the fastest, most likely way to end this insanity, and slowly stuck my head down in front of the driver.

Through the windshield I saw Mayor Boone, far back in the limo with his arms around a terrified and angry Wisper, restraining her. She was yelling at Washburne and struggling to reach him, as the mayor shouted to his son and egged him on. The younger Boone, meanwhile, scrambled all around inside the spacious vehicle, sweating, frightened, and panicky, looking desperately from window to window and trying to catch where I might turn up next.

“When you come from such different worlds,” I yelled. “There’s bound to be conflict!”

That helped Washburne find me, and I saw the barrel of the gun point right into my face.

Meanwhile, the driver reacted as you might if you saw a yelling, multi-colored man, his hair sticking out in all directions, suddenly in your face on a busy freeway. Kind of like that Twilight Zone episode with William Shatner on the airplane. Lots of screaming and hand waving, and as the driver lurched away, he jerked the wheel to one side and nearly tossed me from the car.

Thankfully, that caused me to tumble out of the way just as the safety glass shattered outward around Washburne’s bullet hole. The shot missed, but a couple of shards homed in on me and rocketed into my leg. I grabbed the torn thigh in pain, and nearly fell from the limo into the path of an oncoming semi.

With my free hand, I grabbed the antenna and nearly sliced my fingers off trying to keep myself from greasing the asphalt under the limo’s wheels. Just as I was about to get myself ‘securely’ back onto the hood of the car, Washburne leaned out one of the now open windows and desperately aimed his smoking gun right in my face. I was a trigger pull away from actually being dead.

Then Wisper cracked Washburne in the back of the head with an ice bucket from somewhere inside the limo, and he dropped the gun onto the freeway below me.

Two made for TV movies.

As Washburne slumped away, I looked up into Wisper’s beautiful face.

“The question is,” I asked her. “What’s better? An easy life alone?” I smiled, already knowing her answer. “Or conflict with someone you love? Totally and completely.”

Her eyes misted and she melted.

“Can I think about it?” she asked.

Then she reached out to keep me from falling to a grisly death that likely would have ruined the romance of the moment, then leaned down and kissed me, passionately.

Being a man—and heterosexual I reassure you, again—I kissed her back.

Finally, gradually, gratefully, the limo came to a stop on the side of the road, and I stepped down into grass that was immeasurably soothing against my bare feet. I wanted to get down on the ground and kiss it, but I realized it would be much more fun to open the door and kiss Wisper again instead.

So I did.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away from me.

“So am I.”

Having to part more quickly than we’d have preferred, Wisper and I stepped back from the limo, waiting