"The New World."

Soon was his escape. The ship was coming, if it hadn't come already. Of this, Rmy was certain.

He heard the cries of the townspeople below, a peculiar bustle, the annual cry of arrival. And twenty days early, no less! How Rmy loved this sound, the call of the wild boar in heat, a village ritual, a call that had signaled the ship's arrival for as long as anyone could remember, even old man Guildenstern, who, in his twilight, couldn't even remember to fasten his drenchers and often whistled when he spoke. The call of the wild boar was a marrying of grumble and hootenanny, instantly identifiable to anyone in town, save those who chose not to hear it, and Bob Dolmen, who couldn't hear anything at all. It seemed his glaucoma had spread to his ears.

The ship was coming and this was Rmy's chance, the perfect time to move, to board the ship bound for bounty. The village of Boarsville was Rmy's penitentiary and the ship was his getaway car, or getaway ship, rather. The stories Rmy heard from his friends about the joys that awaited him in the new world were enticing. There was talk of buildings that rose so tall they touched the kingdom of the gods and obstructed their view of Mecca, thus lowering the value of their real estate. There was talk of horseless buggies that crowded streets paved with tar! Rmy spent days contemplating the idea of a "horse trailer." Amazing, thought Rmy, the horses that once pulled the buggies were now being pulled by the buggies! Subsequently, Rmy was besieged with wonderment when learned of the term "horsepower." He fainted and was confined to his bed for three days. The diagnosis: a massive overdose of irony.

Suddenly, the new world became a symbol for everything Rmy wanted from life. He could not stay put, as there were incredible things to be done, incredible fling to be flung. The new world became his secret obsession. The ship was a window into this mysterious new world and also the only way to get there! Rmy knew he had to outsmart his elders in order to leave. Only three villagers were allowed leave each year, three villagers that were chosen randomly by a lottery. This year, Rmy hoped to be at least one of the chosen. Alas, he was again overlooked by fate!

Rmy sat in his quarters and devised his escape. Suddenly, he was struck with an idea! He would scatter the cat's meow athwart the dog's erroneous beliefs! He quickly disregarded this idea after realizing it made no sense whatsoever. After hours of contemplation, Rmy decided he was going to board the ship disguised as a stowaway! His plan was in place, he had only to wait for dawn to arrive.

Dawn never came. Dawn was Rmy's significant other. She had left for Hogstown that very morning to visit her other significant other, unbeknownst to Remy, who never for a moment believed she was unfaithful. Alas, Dawn was sleeping around (while at the same time getting very little sleep). She viewed Rmy as a sort of trivial neither, an insignificant nothing, an authentic shit. Incidentally, none of this bothered Rmy because he knew none of it.

Rmy waited three hours for Dawn. When she didn't come, he decided he was going to write her a brief but heartfelt note: "Dearest Dawn, I didn't decide to ditch the dignitary until Derek discerned that the dignitary had dysentery. Please understand!" After tying up these loose ends, using alliteration to weaken the sting, he moved on to the subject at hand: "I am leaving for the new world. Don't wait up! Love, Rmy." It was true, the dignitary did in fact have dysentery, but I, the narrator, shall save this for another story.

When Rmy arrived at the port dressed as a stowaway, he saw for the first time how big the ship really was. It was much like the ship from his dreams only without the fairy wings, the massive sails made of cheese, and the giant mustache on the bow. He strained his neck looking up, slightly let-down by the regular sails, but thrilled none the less. He touched its colossal wooden surface and was pricked by a splinter. He let out a shrill cry of joy. He felt the tears well as he stared at his tender pinky. It was real. Everything was real. Everything was real and yet nothing was real. Or was it? Was everything anything at all? He felt confused and vomited. The new world was suddenly fathomable. And so was his being.