Jesse Custer, outside of Jordan College
((Warning: Spoilers for the entire series of Preacher under here. Also a lot of cussing.))
"Well, this sure as hell ain't the Circle K."
The voice was male and heavily accented with an East Texas drawl. Jesse Custer--former reverend of a small Texas town, former sheriff of another small Texas town, and former vessel for a power like unto God's own--ran a hand blearily through his hair and surveyed the surroundings, which looked nothing at all like the gas station where he had been intending to replenish his and Tulip's Marlboro supply and a lot more like... he wasn't sure, something out of a movie, maybe. Not the movies he liked to watch, but the kinds that won Oscars for acting and visual effects and all that bullshit. His first idea was to turn around and go back the way he came, but behind him was... yet more not-gas station. He groaned and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Tulip's gonna kill me."
"Wouldn't worry too much about that, hon," came a voice from behind and below him. It was a woman's voice, low and husky. He turned around, expecting to see the woman it belonged to, but instead... there was a dog. A medium-large sized mutt, with shaggy brown fur, a stocky body like a pitbull's.
"Skeeter?" he said, knowing at once that this wasn't good ol' Skeeter, who was back at the motel with Tulip. "No, that ain't right--your name's Jenny." He shook his head. "How do I know that?"
"Same way I know your name's Jesse Custer an' you used to talk to somethin' that might have been the spirit of John Wayne, hon. Ain't got no fuckin' clue." When Jenny looked up at him, he saw that her face was more like some kind of shepherd dog than the rest of her build would indicate. Her right eye was brown and her left was missing. His hand flew up to touch his face near his own left eye, which had been bitten out by God seven months ago and recently restored.
"Some weird shit goin' on here," he murmered, pulling out his last pack of Marlboros and lighting one. (His lighter was his daddy's, a silver thing with "Fuck Communism" engraved on it and given to John Custer by John Wayne himself back in 'Nam.) He really should have been more surprised by the talking dog and sudden change of scenery, but he'd seen enough weird shit in the past two years or so that it was just another thing added to a very long list. "So where the hell are we?"
"Add it to the list of things I ain't got a fuckin' clue about, pardner. Sure as hell ain't Texas anymore, I'll tell you that much."
"Might as well have us a look around then. C'mon, girl." They wandered through the town for a while, listening and observing. Everyone sounded like they were English (which made him think of Cass, who had been Irish and not English but it was the same fuckin' neck of the woods to Jesse) and everyone else had talking animals and they all looked at him and Jenny funny. He didn't like it one bit.
They walked until they hit somewhere called "Jordan College" that his mom would have loved, probably, if she'd been here to see it: all pretty old buildings and stuff that reeked of class and academia and all that crap he'd never had time for and never been allowed to have time for anyway. "Ain't this a bitch," he sighed, reaching into his pockets for his pack and realizing that he was out. "No offense," he informed Jenny.
"Funny fucker, ain't ya?" she muttered back.
"Well, this sure as hell ain't the Circle K."
The voice was male and heavily accented with an East Texas drawl. Jesse Custer--former reverend of a small Texas town, former sheriff of another small Texas town, and former vessel for a power like unto God's own--ran a hand blearily through his hair and surveyed the surroundings, which looked nothing at all like the gas station where he had been intending to replenish his and Tulip's Marlboro supply and a lot more like... he wasn't sure, something out of a movie, maybe. Not the movies he liked to watch, but the kinds that won Oscars for acting and visual effects and all that bullshit. His first idea was to turn around and go back the way he came, but behind him was... yet more not-gas station. He groaned and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Tulip's gonna kill me."
"Wouldn't worry too much about that, hon," came a voice from behind and below him. It was a woman's voice, low and husky. He turned around, expecting to see the woman it belonged to, but instead... there was a dog. A medium-large sized mutt, with shaggy brown fur, a stocky body like a pitbull's.
"Skeeter?" he said, knowing at once that this wasn't good ol' Skeeter, who was back at the motel with Tulip. "No, that ain't right--your name's Jenny." He shook his head. "How do I know that?"
"Same way I know your name's Jesse Custer an' you used to talk to somethin' that might have been the spirit of John Wayne, hon. Ain't got no fuckin' clue." When Jenny looked up at him, he saw that her face was more like some kind of shepherd dog than the rest of her build would indicate. Her right eye was brown and her left was missing. His hand flew up to touch his face near his own left eye, which had been bitten out by God seven months ago and recently restored.
"Some weird shit goin' on here," he murmered, pulling out his last pack of Marlboros and lighting one. (His lighter was his daddy's, a silver thing with "Fuck Communism" engraved on it and given to John Custer by John Wayne himself back in 'Nam.) He really should have been more surprised by the talking dog and sudden change of scenery, but he'd seen enough weird shit in the past two years or so that it was just another thing added to a very long list. "So where the hell are we?"
"Add it to the list of things I ain't got a fuckin' clue about, pardner. Sure as hell ain't Texas anymore, I'll tell you that much."
"Might as well have us a look around then. C'mon, girl." They wandered through the town for a while, listening and observing. Everyone sounded like they were English (which made him think of Cass, who had been Irish and not English but it was the same fuckin' neck of the woods to Jesse) and everyone else had talking animals and they all looked at him and Jenny funny. He didn't like it one bit.
They walked until they hit somewhere called "Jordan College" that his mom would have loved, probably, if she'd been here to see it: all pretty old buildings and stuff that reeked of class and academia and all that crap he'd never had time for and never been allowed to have time for anyway. "Ain't this a bitch," he sighed, reaching into his pockets for his pack and realizing that he was out. "No offense," he informed Jenny.
"Funny fucker, ain't ya?" she muttered back.