I recently had a writers party, which is always fun! At one point everyone put a place, character, object and situation into a labeled bag then drew one of each and tried to make a story out of it. I got: on a plane, a comic book, escaping a burning outhouse, and JoCo the jovial homeless musician.
Joe Moneybags sighed as a boarded the plane. This was his seventh trip to visit the CEO in as many weeks and quite frankly he couldn't figure out why the man wouldn't interview his own janitorial applicants. As he sunk into his economy class seat he closed his bag lined eyes. His mind was beginning to wander when he noticed ... a smell. His nose twitched then began to threaten to jump off his face. Cracking open an eye, Joe cautiously looked to his right. The sight that met his eye caused the other to fly open. Sitting next to the window was the scruffiest man he had ever seen. The man's hair was sticking straight up, his face smudged with grey and brown. Despite his fearsome appearance and appalling smell however, he appeared to be quite calmly reading a comic book while cradling a guitar.
When Joe had recovered his power of speech he spoke cautiously.
"Hello."
His fellow flier smiled up. "Hello. The name's JoCo."
"Joe. Fly much?"
"Not really. Homeless actually. My most recent flying experience was being propelled out of an exploding outhouse. That is by far the most unique way anyone has ever asked me to leave."
Joe's eyes grew wide again as JoCo seemed to drift into memories. "Some people just don't know how to say 'Scoot', but oh well. That's what you get for being a musician."
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