"You have cheetos and music," Joe accused, walking along the beach, although he wasn't entirely sure Jim could hear him above the music. "I want cheetos and a..." He cocked his head. "What the hell is that thing?"
Jim looked up, Cheeto in hand. He crunched down on it, looking utterly satisfied as he swallowed.
"I do have Cheetos and music," he agreed. "Want some Cheetos? Still fresh. The vending machine guy must have just put it in before I bought it when I was back home."
He looked at his iPOD, then back at him.
"Oh! This is...an iPOD. Never saw one of them? It holds a ridiculously large amount of songs. Like, in the thousands. Mine's sort of an old model, though. I was too cheap to buy the new one that plays television shows and stuff."
"My messenger bag. That suddenly appeared out of thin air. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."
He took a sip of his Pepsi. Yes, he would miss soda again once this was gone. He motioned to the bag next to him with the hand holding the Cheetos bag.
"It's weird. I'm pretty positive it has all the stuff I had in it before I popped in here. I left it at my desk, though, so...you got me how it's here now."
Oh. Now that Jim thought about it, he did remember hearing something like that. "Well. Lucky me then, huh?"
He ran a hand across it thoughtfully. It was a few years old, beat up looking really, but the thing - and the items in it - seemed to bring up a lot of memories just looking at them. And while technically the memories were now tainted by the fact he knew he wasn't real, they still were good ones.
"IPod," he repeated after pulling out of his thoughts. "You download songs onto it, make playlists, stuff like that. I should have at least a thousand or two thousands songs on it myself. I don't remember for sure. You can mess with it if you want, just pull out the stereo part out."
"Why the fuck didn't we have these things in the nineties?" Joe asked, sounding jealous. He sprawled out in the sand to look at the iPod, although he didn't want to touch it. He felt like he might break it.
"Well, the internet was sort of new back then. Now there's a whole bunch of things you can do with it. Well, my now anyway. Have to admit, though, the stuff is handy. My entire music collection at my fingertips."
He would have to find a way to charge it somehow later on. That was something to think about.
"That would be pretty fucking handy," Joe agreed. "Would've been nice to be able to put my music onto something like this. Practicing would've been a hell of a lot easier."
He flipped over in the sand, finally dragging his eyes away from the iPod and asked, "You feeling better since the last time we talked?"
"It's a good way to get your music out to the public, too," he mused. He figured that was a plus, at least.
At the question, he grinned slightly. "...Yeah. It got worse after we talked, though. Found out some interesting news in the form of I'm a television show character. Ain't that a bitch?"
He rolled his eyes slightly. He was done being upset over that.
"But this morning sort of made up for it all. So I'm fine now."
"Getting your music thing and cheetos makes up for being a television show character?" Joe asked, his eyebrows raised in amusement. "You're an easy man to please, aren't you, Jim?"
"No," he replied with a small shake of his head. "Well, okay, yeah, it's a plus, this stuff. But earlier today, I finally asked that girl to be my girlfriend - one from home I mentioned to you before, I mean - and she said yes. After waiting three years for something like this to happen and it finally did, I'm pretty sure not much can get me down right now."
"Not unless they deserve it," he replied in a slightly wry tone. "But no, I don't think tree punching will be done anymore. My hands didn't really agree with it the last time."
He turned his hand, glancing at the cut up side of it. It was healing now, leaving only tiny scars in its wake.
"They should have a punching bag on this damn island," he said, leaning back in the sand. The music was nice, especially since it wasn't playing shitty songs that reminded him of home. "That way people wouldn't have to punch trees."
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"I do have Cheetos and music," he agreed. "Want some Cheetos? Still fresh. The vending machine guy must have just put it in before I bought it when I was back home."
He looked at his iPOD, then back at him.
"Oh! This is...an iPOD. Never saw one of them? It holds a ridiculously large amount of songs. Like, in the thousands. Mine's sort of an old model, though. I was too cheap to buy the new one that plays television shows and stuff."
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He took a sip of his Pepsi. Yes, he would miss soda again once this was gone. He motioned to the bag next to him with the hand holding the Cheetos bag.
"It's weird. I'm pretty positive it has all the stuff I had in it before I popped in here. I left it at my desk, though, so...you got me how it's here now."
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He looked at the iPod again. "What the fuck did you call this thing?"
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He ran a hand across it thoughtfully. It was a few years old, beat up looking really, but the thing - and the items in it - seemed to bring up a lot of memories just looking at them. And while technically the memories were now tainted by the fact he knew he wasn't real, they still were good ones.
"IPod," he repeated after pulling out of his thoughts. "You download songs onto it, make playlists, stuff like that. I should have at least a thousand or two thousands songs on it myself. I don't remember for sure. You can mess with it if you want, just pull out the stereo part out."
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He would have to find a way to charge it somehow later on. That was something to think about.
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He flipped over in the sand, finally dragging his eyes away from the iPod and asked, "You feeling better since the last time we talked?"
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At the question, he grinned slightly. "...Yeah. It got worse after we talked, though. Found out some interesting news in the form of I'm a television show character. Ain't that a bitch?"
He rolled his eyes slightly. He was done being upset over that.
"But this morning sort of made up for it all. So I'm fine now."
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"No," he replied with a small shake of his head. "Well, okay, yeah, it's a plus, this stuff. But earlier today, I finally asked that girl to be my girlfriend - one from home I mentioned to you before, I mean - and she said yes. After waiting three years for something like this to happen and it finally did, I'm pretty sure not much can get me down right now."
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He turned his hand, glancing at the cut up side of it. It was healing now, leaving only tiny scars in its wake.
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