Chapter Text
Stanley Pines was a man who got around.
This is by no means an overstatement - he literally has been all over the U.S and then some.
But when you hear about a guy who 'gets around' are you really thinking about how many tourist attractions the guy has visited?
No, probably not.
Unless you call your ladies tourist traps, you're on the right track.
"A man sow's, so let him reap" - Oscar Wilde
__
[STANLEY POV]
How she even found me I have no god damned idea.
It's like I'm Satan's favorite jester and this is my next big joke.
.
It was already a pretty shit day.
Whatever higher power decided today should be a low of 98° deserves a demotion.
The Stanmobile was barely purrin' anymore - it was closer to a sickly gurgle if anything.
The poor girl was overheating so badly I was certain she could see the mirages of water on the road with me.
When we rolled into the most hillbilly town I've ever laid eyes on it was like spotting an oasis in the Sahara. A Shell gas station appeared in a similar fashion to how a waterfall would I imagine.
I felt a spark of will within the El Diablo's motor as she hauled the ramp up to a pump and came to a stuttering halt. She braved the final stretch.
I clambered out about as gracefully as you're imagining and peered out at the rest of the town down the road. I swore I saw a tumbleweed.
I squinted up at the number of my pump. It was pretty simple. It was number one. As in, it was the only pump here. Probably the only pump in this whole town.
Still, I repeated the number over and over again as I paced towards the convenience store entrance.
A ding announced my arrival, to the numerous patrons of course (there were none) as I stepped within.
I stood in the doorway long enough to have the door hit me from behind, ushering me inside. Stumbling, I made my way to the front desk and leaned against it.
I took note of the displays around me, food, cigs, snacks, you name it. Everything was just out in the open, no clerk in sight.
So, faking a yawn, I took the opportunity to look for a surveillance camera within the store. Couldn't see one and figured they hadn't made their way into this towns culture yet.
I snagged a Babe Ruth bar, a packet of cigarettes, a Big Leauge chew, and a 20 dollar bill from the tip jar, shoving it all into my pockets
Only then did I ring the shiny bell atop the counter.
I rang it again for good measure.
.
.
It was a long moment before an older woman strolled out of the back, looking pretty astonished at the sight of me. She simply walked up and stared at me from behind the counter.
"Devilishly handsome, I know." I tried to break the awkwardness forming between us.
No response.
I brought out the wrinkled 20 from my pocket and placed it on the counter.
"Pump one. Uhh,, gimme lotto with the change. Number five looks good." I said, tapping on the glass where the number 5 lotto ticket was displayed.
Snapped out of her haze, she began to ring me up.
I looked over my shoulder at the aisles behind me.
"Got anything cold?" I asked, not looking back to her.
"There's a cooler in the back." She said slowly, typing in the price of the lotto into her register.
"Thanks."
__
Maybe the day wasn't so shitty afterall.
I managed to snag a pack of cigs, a Babe Ruth, a Big Leauge Chew, and an Ice-cream sandwich in one stop. It was the only thing that could fit in my pocket.
And on top of that, $8.75 of change. Score.
.
I pet the dashboard lovingly as I drove through the town, chewing a quickly melting ice-cream sandwhich.
The sun began to set, making everything the color of gold. I imagined selling every brick of some sun-stained building before I realized something.
It was a motel.
A bright LED sign in the window read in bold red letters: Air Conditioning. As if I had been blessed by some higher power.
I pulled into the parking lot as the sun began to dip below the horizon.
.
Some haggling later and I got a room. It wasn't the Ritz, but it was a room. It might as well be the Ritz with how welcoming the AC was, like it was part of the staff itself.
I spent longer than I'd like to admit just sitting in front of the AC vent. For dinner I had a Babe Ruth and a cigarette, but even then I felt good.
I laid on the bed, making out shapes in the popcorn ceiling to fall asleep that night. The first decent day in a long list of horrible ones. Maybe this day was as good as it gets.
.
.
__
BANG BANG BANG
It was the door. I shot up facing the clock on my night stand, the back numbers plastered against a white background.
[11:28pm]
I couldn't have one good day.
__