One hour later, somewhere between Amarillo and nowhere useful

Thane should’ve known it was coming.

The moment Gabriel pressed his muzzle to the van window and let out a howl of pure delight, the possibility of peace vanished into the Texas wind.

“GUYS—‘Gatorland Galaxy: Home of the World’s Largest Taxidermy Reptile Rocket Ride!!’—EXIT 247! WE’RE GOING.”

Thane was halfway through checking rigging supply emails and coasting in a haze of post-diner exhaustion. Mark sat beside him, sunglasses on, arms crossed, looking like a furry, very dead executive en route to the underworld.

“We’re what now?” Thane asked flatly, not even bothering to hide the dread in his voice.

Gabriel was already unbuckling and leaning between the seats like an overgrown puppy. “Thane. Thane. The sign has a gator in a space helmet. I need this in my soul.”

Mark, still unmoving: “Leave me behind. Tell my story.”

But it was already too late. Gabriel took the exit like a man on a mission from chaos.

Fifteen minutes later…

The three of them stood before the gates of Gatorland Galaxy, a roadside atrocity that hadn’t been updated since 1993 and looked like it had survived a small tornado and a government coverup.

The attractions included:

  • A six-foot animatronic alligator in a foil jumpsuit that wheezed “WELCOME TO SPACE!” every few seconds.
  • Faded posters advertising a live gator feeding that turned out to be a sunburned man tossing hot dogs into a kiddie pool.
  • A ride called the Rocket Chomp Coaster, clearly made from repurposed barn parts and sketchy ambition.
  • And a cotton candy stand that, for some reason, also sold boiled peanuts and used VHS tapes.

Mark stared up at the rickety “space rocket” ride, arms crossed, completely deadpan. “This is how we die. This is my final form: pancaked by a neon gator rocket.”

Gabriel, naturally, was already dual-wielding a souvenir gator-head drink cup and two massive bags of neon green cotton candy. “THIS. IS. AWESOME.”

Thane just sighed. “We’ve got load-in at 4:00.”

Gabriel tossed him a gator hat without breaking stride. “We’ve got memories now.”

Mark tried one of the boiled peanuts, chewed once, stared into the void, and muttered, “I think this is how time breaks.”

Eventually, Gabriel talked them both into riding the coaster. Thane sat in the back, holding his rigging bag like an emotional support pack. Mark screamed once. Just once. And Thane made a mental note to never let him live it down.

Later, at the exit…

The three of them stumbled out of the Galactic Gift Barn like shell-shocked survivors, clutching knockoff T-shirts, gator-shaped stickers, and a deep, lingering sense of regret.

Back in the van, as Gabriel climbed behind the wheel with manic glee and fired up the engine, Mark leaned over to Thane, eyes hollow.

“I take back every complaint I’ve ever made about load-in days,” he said, voice flat. “I didn’t know true suffering until I met Rocket Gator.”

Thane laughed so hard his claws cramped.