Jack Allison stood in front of the three large bay windows in the living area of an oceanfront condo, gazing out at sea. Behind him, a few feet off the ground, a small pinprick of blue suddenly materialized, like a dollop of blue paint daubed onto canvas by an invisible brush.

The dollop soon began to change, first into a teardrop shape and then into an unstoppable swirl, the spirals which constituted the swirl continued to get looser and farther apart as more blue substance unspooled from the dollop’s center. It wasn’t long before the entire living area was filled with intrusive curves.

After some time the swirling ceased and a monstrous blue spiral remained, frozen in mid-air like that of an uncoiled spring, and then suddenly, as if a switch were flipped, the spirals reversed themselves. They began to fold back in on one another and then finally into the center dollop. As each furl rotated back into the center, the dollop itself began to change, becoming more developed, sophisticated in size and shape until it was no longer a simple dollop, but a man.

And when the last bit of blue had curved back into its altered origin, Van Robichaux was there on one knee in the space where the dollop had once been. He looked tired. His once Clear Blue colored suit had been sullied and stained to the hue of Royal Blue. There were rips and tears in both his clothing and his face, a stressed canvas framed by an unkempt beard.

Ever the consummate professional, Van gave his spiel before he even got his bearings. “Thank You for using the JackAm Bug Tracker. How may I assist you in improving your JackAm show experience?”

“Care for a drink, old friend?” Jack’s voice, he hadn’t turned away from the window. “You sound...tired.”

Van nearly broke down then and there, the shock and pleasant surprise of meeting his dear friend like this was almost too much.

“Tired?” Van chuckled, it sounded dry in his throat, drier than the Pinot Grigio Jack had swirling in a palmed glass. “Yeah, I'm tired Jack. I’ve stopped wars, saved marriages, helped loved ones find each other. Hell, I’ve…” Van forced some saliva down his rusted throat “Killed. All for the show, all for the viewers, all so they could enjoy their JackAm experience unhindered. No matter what was on that Bug-tracker ticket, I did it. Damn me to hell but I did it. No questions asked.”

“And it’s worked.” Said Jack, and he turned then, did so in a grand spin his arms outstretched gesturing to the opulence of the condo. “And it’s worked so very well. The show has never made me more money, and it’s all thanks to you, your tireless work, and your bug tracker.”

Van smiled, and with that smile, his face returned to better days. “I’m grateful to hear those words, friend, but…” He looked around. “Why did you, of all people, create a ticket? It’s your show. What could possibly be the bug?”

“Can’t you see it old friend?” asked Jack. “Your percentage of the profits. See, that’s a problem for me.” And in an instant Jack had a pistol withdrawn from his waist and leveled at Van’s face, his Pinot Grigio sloshing in the other hand. “The bug I’d like to report, old friend. Is you.”

The gun went off.

Topics discussed on today’s episode include: CDC Says "No Thanks" to Pfizer Booster, Kamala’s Central America Fact Sheet, Spelling Bee, The Ossimp Patrol, Notes From Van, and more!