Fisher & Sons Funeral Home, Los Angeles, 2000-something, Saturday Afternoon.
The travel through time and (air)space hadn't been so bad, and Cal realized that there were a lot of great things about going to California in a plane instead of hitch-hiking across America to get there. One, it was shorter and you realized you gained about three hours, despite the fact that they were already kind of going in the past, anyway (it was all still the future for him, thank you). And there weren't creepy men who picked you up and tried to get you drunk, just a cute redheaded girlfriend-for-at-least-another-week.
A girlfriend who was now off doing a bunch of college interview stuff, without a need for her little moral-support cheerleader to be breathing down her neck and making her nervous, so that left Cal with free range to explore a really cool and fairly big funeral home.
Of course he was going to poke around and try to find where they kept the dead bodies first.
Duh.
[[ Funeral home totes modded with permission, hum. NFB for distance and NFI unless you're in L.A., 2000-something, laaaaa ]]
A girlfriend who was now off doing a bunch of college interview stuff, without a need for her little moral-support cheerleader to be breathing down her neck and making her nervous, so that left Cal with free range to explore a really cool and fairly big funeral home.
Of course he was going to poke around and try to find where they kept the dead bodies first.
Duh.
[[ Funeral home totes modded with permission, hum. NFB for distance and NFI unless you're in L.A., 2000-something, laaaaa ]]