After another good 10mins or so on the road the trio finally arrives to what appears to be the place. The attendant from the gas station was correct as a large bear paw was plastered on a nearby billboard. Before entering the parking lot, C.J. parks the car on the side of the road and surveys the area. Outside the place looks slyly reminiscent of a scene from the movie Maximum Overdrive as various sized semi-trucks were parked in a small area to the left. The front venue consisted of a long row of stainless steel motorcycles that stood out from the rest of the other decade old vehicles. The place itself was a small yet wide wooden shack connected to a gray warehouse-like structure with another elaborate bear claw and the words “Trinity Crown” on front. Across the way rests a small brick house on a hill giving the residents there a perfect view of the entire venue.
Nervousness shrouded C.J. as he began to have second-thoughts about the entire thing; Never-the-less, he shifts the car on drive and ventures forth into the rocky parking lot. A couple of guys clad in leather and chains catch their car as they cowardly park on the outskirts away from the other vehicles.
“This is it guys. You ready?” said a shaken C.J.
“I’m on fire man! Let’s do this! WOO!” yells Mark.
“What about you Isaiah?”
He remains quiet as he looks at the 2 guys in front in a drunken like state.
C.J. waves his hand in front of his friend’s face. “Earth to Isaiah…”
“Oh, huh?”
“You ready?”
“Uh-uh... Screw that man. You DO know what this place is right?”
C.J. glimpses at the dangerous looking guys in front smoking their stogies. “A motorcyclist bar right?”
“Yeah, a GAY motorcyclist bar! They’re Gay Bears man! There’s no way in hell I’m steppin’ in that house of faggotry.”
“Ah, so you’re scared huh?,” teased Mark.
“There you go with that shit again. I don’t care if you think I’m scared or not, I’m not going in!”
C.J. was starting to get mad. “Okay then, suit yourself. Stay out here in the heat for all I care. Let’s go Mark.”
C.J. and Mark seize the can, slam their doors and abandon their distraught friend.
One of the dodgy-looking men sneers, takes his cigar from his mouth, and shake some ash off it. “Well well Danny, look what the female dog shat out,” he chuckles as C.J. and Mark aims towards the entrance. Danny, the larger and gruffest looking of the 2, walks in front of the double doors to block their way.
“Uh… Hi-Hi,” stutters C.J, “Wou-would you… please excuse us…” The man’s domineering presence was immensely overwhelming.
“You boys lost? This place ain’t fer little pups ya know,” says the other guy. The chains around his leather jacket and chaps shingles loudly, as he slowly approaches them.
Mark steps forward. “Hey, we’re not looking for any trouble. We just want to have a word with some of the guys who work here.”
“I work here. Now spill it.”
Mark and C.J. looks at each other as they obviously know he’s lying. C.J. figures it wouldn’t hurt to ask though, thus he steps forwards and questions, “Do you know if this place sells tobacco?”
“You pups? Tobacco? Psheheheh!,” crudely laughs the man as he pats the other beast on his broad shoulder. “Hey, fellas! We got ourselves a couple mini-druggies out here!” C.J. and Mark’s burly oppositions just got bigger as 3 additional leather brutes exit the bar to confront them. The 3 hooligans were also fully adorned in tattoos, spikes, and chains. Some wore black bandanas and aviator sunglasses; others had many piercings and large unkempt beards. The rude man takes a deep puff of his cigar, bends over, and slowly exhales a ring of smoke onto their face. “Little pups like y’all shouldn’t be askin’ fer this stuff here.”
Mark was getting highly fed up with his attitude. “Look, it’s not what you guys think. Could you guys move so we can talk to a manager?”
“Who’re yew to tell us ta move boy!?” yells the smallest of the bunch as he pushes Mark off the old boardwalk and onto the ground.
Another one steps forward. “Take yer nigger friend here and git!”
C.J. turns and helps mark up. “Dude, you alright!?”
“Man, forget these guys C.J. Let’s get out of here.”
“Hey faggots! Leave 'em alone!” yells a familiar voice. Everyone instantly turn their attention to find the one and only Isaiah bravely arriving on the scene.
The cigar man spits in Isaiah’s direction. “Tch, looks like this scared lil’ pup has some teeth.”
Isaiah toughly paces up against the guys chest. “Who you callin’ scared asshat!? I’ll kick your ass!”
“Oooooh!” yowls the others (besides’ Danny). The smallest of the bunch walks up to the man with the cigar and nudges him on his bicep. “Hey Monty, ya gun’ let’em talk ta ya like that? Show him whose boss!”
The gruff cigar man, Monty, hands over his cigar to one of his buddies and begins cracking his neck and fists. “What’s yer name kid?”
“Who needs ta know?”
Just after, Monty lifts Isaiah by the collar and fiercely slams him on the front hood of a nearby pickup truck. The other hooligans went wild and begin surrounding them to cheer Monty on. “I SAID what’s yer name punk!?”
C.J. and Mark try to run to Isaiah’s aid but are blocked by the men’s broad backs. “Get off him!!,” screams C.J.
Isaiah scrums up as much saliva as he can and spits a big one onto the ugly man’s mustache. Monty’s fury rises as he rubs off the disgusting loogy. “YOU LITTA SHIT!! You’re askin’ for it!!”
He raises his arms and balls up his fist; however, just before he swings, a hefty older man in an expensive white suit comes barging out of the bar. He wears a large white cowboy hat with a black band wrapped around the top base. He also had a thick white handlebar mustache with slightly curved ends. His appearance exaggerates further as silky white chest hair pokes out from the top of his suit. “Whas all tha hub-bub out heer?,” he yells. Upon hearing this voice, Monty swiftly let’s go and backs away from Isaiah as if nothing happened.
“Uh-oh! Pappy’s comin’! Quiet yall!” The hooligans rapidly settle down as the gallant looking man pushes them out of his way.
“What in tarnation-!?” He turns his head and leers angrily at Monty. “Vermont Richard Maxwell! Ah shoulda known yer hind was up ta no good again!”
“Oh... um, uh we---we we’re jus’-”
He cuts him short by smacking his face with his bank hand approximately 5 times. “Hush up!!”
“Ahhh, Ca’mon Unck, I was only playin’…!” whines Monty.
“DON’T TALK BACK TA ME BOY!!” vocally threatens the man. Monty turns his head and curls up like a little girl; a bizarre yet understandable sight given that the older man possess a truly thunderous voice that could even put the toughest man in tears. He sneers, grabs Monty by the ear, and pushes him towards the house across the way. “Tch, gitch yer pussy ass outtaheer!” Monty frowns like a puppy, slides his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, and walks off. “That goes fer tha lot a y’all! Git goin’!” The manly bunch groans and disperses their ways.
C.J. and Mark rush to Isaiah and help him off the truck. “Yo, man. You alright?” asks Mark.
“Dude, that was completely illogical,” says C.J. as he brushes Isaiah off, “You could’ve seriously gotten hurt.”
Isaiah grins and wipes the sweat from his forehead. “I’m fine guys. No problem.”
“Sorr’ ‘bout mah lil’ shithead folks,” smiles the domineering man as he approaches, “He’s gun’git whas comin’ to him.”
C.J reaches his hand out. “Thanks for your help mister.”
“Gyahaha! Well ain’t you a kind one!” He shakes C.J’s hand. “The name’s Graham Maxwell! Owner and official “pappy” of this here Trinity Crown. What brings yall younguns out these ways?”
Mark smiles. “Ah sweet dude, just the man we’re--,”
“Excuse me sir, but do you sell any kind of tobacco?” interrupts C.J.
Maxwell smacks his black suspenders straps and cockily raises his chin. “Yessiree! Tobaccah’s mah middle name. Ah sell all kinds from Marlboro, to His Majesty’s Reserves. Ya name it; we got it!
“Mind if we take a look at some?”
“Shure thing fellers! Come right on in! Jus’ know yall have ta bare some I.D. if ya want en’thang heer?”
While following Maxwell, Mark taps C.J. on his shoulder and asks, “Hey, aren’t you going to tell him about the can?”
“No, dude. This is our only lead. Even if he’s the owner, we shouldn’t flash it around. We’ll have to check first to see if he really sells the stuff here.”
“Alright man; I guess.”
Maxwell holds the door open as the 3 hold their breath and walk in. Their heads turn as they discover a very normal yet dark bar. Even so, they felt like they’ve entered a mountain cabin in the holiday season as cold air looms around them, as well as taking a look at the various Christmas lights dangling across the wooden ceiling. Many different animal heads and lanterns are furnished around the top to increase the atmosphere. A giant multi-dark-colored flag with a large bear paw on it can be seen waving from the ceiling in the middle of the establishment. Country music and low rambling from the patrons could be heard echoing throughout. The main bar itself spread across the back wall and was brightly lit. Various bottles and glass decorates its stands and hangs above the area for show. Just to the left of them is a lounging area where Danny, the large man from before, and several other big guys can be seen drinking and playing cards.
“Haha! Welcome to mah pride n’ joy boys!” brags Maxwell as he firmly places his hands on C.J’s and Mark’s shoulder. “You like? Ah jus’ remodeled here not too long ago.”
“I was kinda expecting lots of gay,” mumbles Mark, “but I have to admit, this place is kinda cool looking.”
“Psh, ya make gay sound like a bad thang kiddo. Ah jus’ don’t permit tha hard stuff out here in front.”
Mark thought that was a bit too much information.
“Hey Pappy!” yells the bartender, “You got nother one a those hotshots waitin’ on tha line!
“Ugh... them cottin picken’…— Tell’em ta call back another time!”
“Already gone done that. They say it’s urgent.”
Maxwell ushers a long drown out sigh. “Ah real sorr’ bout this yall. To tha right there’s mah ol’ tobaccah store. Someone’s at tha counter to assiss ya’ll.” He walks off but turns and walks back. “Oh here, wait a sec…,” he reaches in his back pocket, pulls out several Trinity Crown and Gay Bear stickers, and hands them to the trio. “Jus’ mah way fer ‘pologizing bout mah nephew.” He walks off again, “Ya’ll come back now when ya’ll legal!”
“Well Gee… Thanks,” sarcastically says Isaiah as he disgustingly glares at the bearded man on the sticker.
The trio enters the Tobacco Store, and an old time chime bell is heard as soon as they enter. A balding man with a wild dutch beard (and no shirt) could be heard snorting as he wakes up and groggily walk towards the front counter. “Hmm? Whas a cuppa boy’s like yall doin’ here?”
C.J. steps forward. “Mr. Maxwell, your boss, said it was okay for us to browse in here if you don’t mind.”
The lazy man yawns and scratches his hairy chest. “Oh… well, yall don’t try to steal anythin’ heer? Ah’ll be watchin’.” He walks to the back, sits back down on the chair, and turns on the small T.V.
The 3 then splits up and begins searching for the same canned product. As time went by, they came across many different kinds of chew; however, none of them matched the one they had. Mark grew tired of looking and starts browsing through their other Merchandise. He notices that the majority of commodities they’re selling have either The Trinity Crown logo, a bear claw, a multi-dark-colored flag with the bear claw, or a bear itself plastered on it. They even have boxers, jockstraps and other undergarments for sell. He walks up to a barrel full of posters and withdraws one of a gruff bearded man exposing his hairy back and rear. He groans in displeasure and quickly rolls it up before sticking it back in.
“Hey Mark, C’mere man,” calls C.J.
Mark walks towards him. “Sup?”
“You said you and your dad used to come to this guys store in town right?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember anything about him or what he sold then?”
“Um… well, like I said, my dad hardly ever took me inside so I don’t remember much. I do remember the place on the outside looked really old and cruddy.” Mark turns his head at a large jockstrap on display and cringes. “There weren’t any bear claws either…”
“Old huh?” C.J. grips and glimpses at a pack of cigars with a grizzly bear on it. “Y’know, I find it a little peculiar that this guy went from having a little nicotine store to a giant snazzy gay bar.”
“You think so to huh?”
As they continue to question the authenticity of Mr. Maxwell, Isaiah scrolls through the aisles on the other side of the store. Remnants of adrenaline course through his body as he thinks about the dire situation from before. Even though he felt really frightened, standing up to a guy as tough as that actually felt pretty good. He continues walking but halts when his eyes catch a box full of small pouches of chew. He stands and looks at it in a dreamy stupor before snapping out of it and continuing on. As soon as his head turns away, a sharp ache erupts in his chest causing him to hiss in pain. C.J. and Mark hear his cry and scuttles to his aid.
“Isaiah, you straight man?” asked Mark.
Isaiah rubs his chest. “I-I think…so…”
“You must’ve gotten hurt when that thug slammed you on the truck,” said C.J.
“Yeah…” Isaiah glances back at the box of chaw with a worried look on his face. “I think I’m gonna sit down for a bit guys… Sorry.” He walks between his friends and exits the store.
“What’s with him?” asks Mark.
“Don’t know, but we shouldn’t stay here too long.” C.J. turns his head at the cashier and finds him sleeping with his mouth wide open. “Let’s ask sleepyhead over there and see if he knows anything.”
While the 2 wakes the guy up and begins asking questions, Isaiah rests his self on a table away from all the other bears. His mind races as he couldn’t get his mind off of chaw without a sharp pain exploding forth from his chest. He kinda did want some again; it was starting to taste real good to. He cockily smirks as he remembers the nice crunchy dark leafs grinding against his teeth, or the great feeling of spitting out a big juicy dark one. Mmmm yeah, some of that delicious hard tobacco felt mighty fine to him right about now. Nonono, wait. He knew can’t have that stuff; it’ll lead to an addiction. Besides, what would his friends and family think of him? His current train of thought was instantly interrupts as another harsh throb was felt within.
“Dammit!” he quietly shrieks as he clutches his chest in pain. He couldn’t believe this. Screw worrying about addiction; he knew he was already addicted, but how though? He only tasted it twice for Christ sakes! Well, being a tobacco addict couldn’t be all that bad he thought. His mom smokes alot and she’s doing fine. Heck, she’s always said that smoking eases her mind off things. Why can’t he to? He’s a man. Yeah that’s right, he’s a tough guy; chewing black just makes him feel all the more badass. There’s nothing wrong with a dude having a little nicotine once in a while. Uh-uh, no sir-ree. He wipes his mouth as it was starting to water and pauses for a bit afterwards. “No way… This can’t be happening,” he thought, “Something’s definitely in that stuff man; I have to tell them quick.” He gets up and aims towards the tobacco store, but ends up running into a bare-chested Monty.
“Hmhm , so this is where ya been big guy,” he says.
“Huh? What?” As soon as he hears his raspy different voice, Isaiah instantly grasps his neck and feels a long bushy beard in the process. Freaking out, he looks down and finds himself transformed into an extra-hairy, muscular, Caucasian middle-aged brute. From head to toe, his body was enclosed in a forest of curly dark chestnut hair which hid the many elaborate tattoos’ he somehow came to posses. 2 immense silver rings adorn each of his rock-hard nipples; he felt another ring pierced within his nose as it smacked against his thick mustache. A chain necklace with a steel lock drapes around his thick neck while he wears a kinky yet ornate leather-belt harness. A black jockstrap cups his now rather large package and on the crotch protrudes a couple rotund (but blunt) silver spikes. Speaking of spikes, several spiky leather bands are now wrapped around his wrists, ankles, and thighs. His huge sweaty forearms are covered in veins while his beefy furry biceps look to be as big as his head. He looks at his briskly aged hand to find he’s holding a very fat cigar.
Monty walks to Isaiah’s side, raises the giant’s arm and says, “Here pops, lemme light that fer ya.” He lights it with a steel zippo lighter before Isaiah swings it to his mouth and starts puffing on it like a pro. Isaiah arrogantly cocks his head back and exhales a lengthy rugged grunt as he blows the smoke through his nose, and into Monty’s face.
“I’m real sorry ‘bout earlier papa,” apologizes Monty as he gets closer to Isaiah and plays with his nipple ring.
The brusque Isaiah smokes in a big one, grips his stogie away from his mouth, and taps some ash onto Monty’s hair. “Ah’ve told ya time and time ovah ‘bout yer personal skills boy. ‘Cause of yer shit, I have ta put up wit’ mah big bro’s yappn’.” Isaiah then sits his hairy bubble butt atop a table while the lust-filled Monty sits atop his father’s lap; he begins rubbing his filthy hands along Isaiah’s shaggy body. With a smug look on his face, Isaiah pinches Monty’s rear and blows another thick fog of smoke on his face. “You bes’ fix yerself son else I’m gon’ whip that mighty hind of yers real hard ye heer?”
Monty wraps his arm around his dad’s neck and moves in close to his face and says, “Yes. Sir! I’ll do anything for you pops.” With his tongue, he prods open Isaiah’s mouth and begins to really serve it up to the old man.
While the Isaiah on the outside shows off his masculinity, authoritative power, and love for his son; the Isaiah on the inside was suffering a complete mental meltdown. “NO WAY MAN! Fuck this!!,” he mentally screams, “This fugly monster is absolutely NOT me! No! There’s no way in hell!! Even if I can feel his chest, or...or his big sweaty palms…. or… that. gorgeous. tight. ass... and mmm his tongue… ” Isaiah mentally licks his mouth, “Man o’ man, mah son shure knows how ta lighten an ol’ fella’s day. ahhhyeah… eat mah tongue ya handsome’ piece of shit. aaawhh… Mmph! That ah boy Monty. Ya learnin’ well.” Monty slightly bites Isaiah’s tongue making the Isaiah on the outside grunt in pleasure; but causing the Isaiah on the inside to break his trance and hiss in pain. He mentally cries as his mind is being completely overrun by the outside Isaiah. “My-mah head… Stop… please... gr..grrr, ah’m gon’ give it to ya real good tanight ya little fuck-AAHHH No! No more… God, end this! I can’t take it anymore…!”
Monty then removes his tongue from his father’s mouth and begins to slowly lick his father’s burly face. “mmmdad... I love you soo much.”
Isaiah’s mind on the inside became completely linked with his on the outside. A cocky smug appears on his face as he finally succumbs to his gay bearish side and relishes his newfound masculinity. He pulls his son off his face and onto his chest before giving him a warm tender family hug. “Papa loves ya to Vermont.”
The proud father could feel his son’s thick tongue thoroughly clean his musky pelt. Monty could sustain himself no longer and begins to lustfully call out for his parent. “ahhDad… da…d… Du… Dude wake up!”
Isaiah then instantly springs forth in attention and screams, “Stop!! Get off me!” C.J. does so and backs away from Isaiah.
“Woah, woah. Chill. It’s us,” says Mark. He looks down and see’s a big wet spot on Isaiah’s crotch. “Oh shit! Hahaha! You must’ve had a nice dream man!”
That was no mere dream; it felt too real to be anything else. Isaiah frantically looks around his body to see if he’s truly back to normal. C.J. barely taps him on his shoulder which causes the panicked teen to thrust his friend’s arm away. “What the hell?,” yells C.J.
“I’m…. right... alright.” He examines and turns his dark hands. “I’m-I’m me again… thank god…”
“What’s wrong man? You’re freaking us out.”
“You guys won’t believe it. I had the most bizarre dream and I-.” Isaiah abruptly clutches his chest as the sharp throbbing springs forth once again. He collapses onto the floor and cries out in pain.“Ugghhh--! No! Stop… Stop it… Please… not again!”
“Isaiah! Hang on!” yells C.J.
After hearing Isaiah’s loud cry, many of the bears in the bar jump over the tables and heads over to help. One of them bends down and checks his temperature with his palm. Mark recognizes the man as the same guy with the bad BO from the gas station. “Damn, he’s flarin’ up,” he says as he rubs the sweat from Isaiah’s forehead with a napkin. “Someone get some water and ice!”
“I’m on it!” yells the bartender.
The guy then steps across and behind Isaiah before proceeding to calmly lift his head up. “Help me get ‘em on the table yall.” A couple of bears from the crowd step out and helps lift Isaiah onto a nearby table; however, they set him a little too hard causing Isaiah to moan. The man then grabs some more napkins and begins fanning Isaiah off. “There there kid. Hang with us.”
“Ch---Chaw…”
“What you say son? I can’t hear ya.”
“I…need… chaw…”
“Chaw? Kid, you’re burning up. Tobacco ain’t gonna help ya right now.”
“Please… AGH…!,” he hiss.
“Hey, where’s the damn water!?”
“Comin’ right up! ‘Scuse me fella’s.” The bartender sets a bucket of cold ice water next to Isaiah’s head. The big guy then quickly soaks some napkins and places them on the ill teen’s forehead.
“Mark, call his parents!” demands C.J.
“I can’t get a signal out here man.”
“Damnit!” C.J. then walks over to the big guy and Isaiah. “Is he going to be alright?,”he asks.
“He looks like he’s settling down a bit, but...-“
“Hey yall! Lemme peak at’em real quick.” interrupts a deep voice.
Everyone turns their head to see Lester and his boys arriving on the scene. He pushes some of the other guys out of the way as he makes his way over. Lester leers at the guy taking care of Isaiah. “Oho who’ur you handsome? Ya new here or sumthin’?”
The guy nods. “Uh-huh, and you are?”
Lester pulls out a cigarette and lighter. “Tha name’s Lesmond T. Maxwell; folks here call mahself Lester.”
“Lester? Ohhh, so you’re pappy’s little boy the guys been tellin’ me about.”
“Yes.sir., ah’m mah daddy’s litta soldier.” Lester then lights his cigarette, approaches Isaiah, and examines him closely.
Mark nudges C.J. and whispers, “Hey, doesn’t he go to our school?”
“Yeah, he’s one of Cletus’s friends.”
“*Cough*Cough*,” coughs the big guy, “Kid, you shouldn’t smoke around sick people like that!”
Lester angrily leers at him. “Psh, Ah can smoke where’s ever I damn well please.”
“…Gi…Giv..” mumbles Isaiah as he achingly reaches in Lester’s direction.
“Huh?” Lester moves in and bends down closer. Just then, Isaiah quickly snatches the cigarette from his mouth and begins smoking it himself. It tasted absolutely terrible, but at least it’ll sustain him ‘till he gets more of that chaw. “Tha hale!?,” yells Lester as he freaks and backs away. In a blind fury, he attempts to beeline it back to Isaiah but is held back by the bears and his group.
“Woah, settle down there Lester!” says one of them.
“You fucker! Gimme back mah rette!”
After puffing on it as much as he can, the big guy manages to snatch it from Isaiah and put it out. “You crazy son!?,” he yells.
Isaiah raises himself up as C.J. and Mark quickly approach towards him. “Something’s up with you man,” remarks Mark. C.J. nods. “Yeah, tell us what’s going.”
Isaiah still perspires heavily as his bloodshot eyes crazily gaze at C.J. They could hear the table rattle from Isaiah’s anxious shaking. “Hand-Hand over the chaw C.J.”
Upon seeing his friend’s madness, C.J. immediately realizes that this chaw (or whatever it is) isn’t what it seems to be. He was determined not to let Isaiah have it and slowly backs away.
Isaiah stands and pitifully holds his hand out like a beggar on the street. Mark comes to set him back down, but Isaiah ferociously glares at him and mutters, “GET. OFF. ME…” Scared, Mark quickly does so and backs away. Isaiah turns his head back to C.J.“I’m yo-your friend right? C-C’mon. I just… yeah, I just want to see it real quick.”
“Sorry, but no. This is for your own good.”
“To hell with my own good C.J.!,” screams Isaiah. “You know shit about how I feel right now.” The crazed teen begins to speed towards his prey. “If you won’t give it up, then I’ll take it myself!” Mark and the big guy try to hold him back; however, Isaiah’s newfound power overwhelms them and he fiercely pushes them away.
Suddenly, a loud gunshot is heard and Isaiah falls instantly to the floor out cold. C.J. moves a little closer and gazes upon a large dart pierced within Isaiah’s neck.
“You boys ahright?”
C.J. looks over and sees none other than Graham Maxwell holding a huge civil war era pistol.
Upon seeing his father, Lester yells “Pappy!” and runs over to give him a big hug. “Ah was jus’ fixin’ ta holler and git you.”
“… ‘Scuse me son. Now aint tha time.” Maxwell gently shove’s Lester aside and steps towards Isaiah’s unconscious body. “Ah knew sumthin’ was familiar ‘bout this boy. Cletus shure gon’ and messed up this time,” he thought. Maxwell looks at the bears and thunderously yells, “Don’t jus’ stand there ya dumbasses, git’em to tha back now!”
Most of them step out, lifts Isaiah up and, assist him towards the back. Maxwell then nods his head towards the big guy that helped Isaiah and the brute, Danny. “Danny and… you there, Mikey was it?”
“Sir?”
“You 2 make shure these other younguns stay out in front. They’re not ta leave this bar. Got it?”
Both Danny and the big guy, Mikey, nods.
“Good. Ka’mon back Lester.” With that Mr. Maxwell and Lester strides towards the back.
Just what is going to happen their friend, Isaiah, and to them? And just what is [INSERT YOUR NAME HERE] doing back at home? Stay tuned.