The Brilliantly Rainbowed Adventure

        Well, it was getting late, and we had to rise early the next morning to go and save Frogstick, but before we left the Wild Side I just had to satisfy my curiosity about something. You see, there was this thin, pale, consumptive-looking gent who had just sort of stayed hunkered down over a fizzies at the dark end of the bar all night.
        I'd never seen anyone like him. Nothing that had happened that night had fazed him, not even Uncle Elmo and his Dreaded Saw; he had quietly greeted every new development with the same sour, cynical stare. Nevertheless, he didn't look unpleasant, at least for a beanpole, and I began to wonder why such a kindly looking fellow would be so glum. So I moseyed on over and broke the ice with a hammer.
        "Pleased to meet you, mister," I said, "my name is Hootenanny."
        "I know," he said, "I know." He spoke in a frail, reedy voice thick with an East European accent. "Franz is my name," he added, "Franz Kafka."
        "Say," I asked him, "weren't you on Jeopardy? You're famous, aren't you?" He sighed heavily. He was obviously depressed about something. "What's wrong?" I asked him.
        "What's wrong?" he replied, "Why, nothing. Nothing at all. I'm doing nothing on my way to nowhere. Life is pointless and entropy has a chokehold on the universe, but all is well with the world." His teeth began to grate loudly as he paused to look around the room, which was jam-packed full of friendly and progressive Hicks, Hayseeds, and Bumpkins. Then he spoke suddenly, tensely, too loudly.
        "Sure," he said, addressing the mob, (which was having a frolic in happy ignorance of his highly acidic words), "have your fun." I was perplexed. Why did he seem so angry and bitter?
        "Hey, look mister," I said, "you look pretty down in the mouth. Maybe you're just a gloomy sort of Joe, or maybe it's just a touch of indigestion. But if it's any consolation to you, all of this really isn't happening. I mean," I stammered, "it is, but it isn't. That is to say," I emended, "according to Egghead we're all just fantastical fictional characters in a novel of unknown origin, being animated by the minds of readers, so what's to worry about, anyway?"
        Well, sir, that sort of stumped him. He stared at me with his mouth wide open for a good thirty seconds. Then, he began to grin." Of course," he muttered to himself, "of course. Why couldn't I see it?" Then, to my surprise, he slapped me on the back and let out a whoop that you could have heard back at the Nowhere County Campgrounds. He began to laugh uproariously: laughing until tears streamed down his face. He looked like a brand new fictional character, which he happened to be at the moment, even though in real life he hadn't been.
        "If that is the case," he cried, "let's have some fun!" He reached for the slide rule that I had previously noticed hanging from his belt, only it wasn't a slide rule anymore; it had turned into a big old Colt six-shooter!
        "YEEHAW!!" he yelled, and he began to fire gun, pointing it in the general direction of the roof.
        "YEEHAW!!" answered some of the folks in the crowd, and I saw a couple of grandmothers as they whipped out their own comically harmless fictional side arms and proceeded to ventilate the old tin roof some more for good measure. Well now, I never saw such a change come over a man all at once; he had been miserable when I met him, but now he was plumb full of glee. When we left The Wild Side he was still having fun, dancing on top of a table with a lampshade on his head. I never saw the likes.
        After all of this excitement we were plenty glad to leave and to walk on over to our rooms, where we crash-landed for a night's restful repose. Tomorrow would find us on the road again: one chapter closer to the incredibly surprising and delightfully hectic climax and denouement of our wild and wacky wilderness adventure. As for tonight, we all signed off through our open windows with the homey and well-known lines so familiar to the fans of our television show.
        "Goodnight, Hootenanny."
        "Goodnight, Egghead."
        "Goodnight, Slug."
        "Goodnight, Stink."
        "Goodnight, Billy."
        "Goodnight, Zeb."
        "And goodnight, Frogstick, wherever you are."