Captain Horizon and Milkshake Momma

The VW Microbus was parked at the rest stop, drawing curiosity seekers because of its paint job. Looking as if it had just rolled out the 1960’s, multicolored with peace symbols, the words peace, make love not war, save water shower with your steady, painted in black curvy letters.

Alongside was a topless older large breasted woman with long wavy gray brown hair, dancing and yelling to a man inside. “You’ll never find it. It's long gone.”

“Momma”, a balding gray haired man peeked out of the side of the bus, “Momma, I think that you may want to cover up, no need to show the kiddies how you got your nickname.”

“You’re always thinking of the kids.” She pulled on a faded denim shirt that had been thrown to the pavement with other items tossed out of the bus during his search. She resumed dancing a modified slow dance to some forgotten rock and roll tune playing on the bus's speakers.

“I know it's here, I saw it only yesterday or maybe it was a couple of days ago. We couldn't have sold it, could we?”

“Face it, it’s gone.”

“But the lads, they signed it for us. Remember we helped them escape after the concert, hiding them in the back of this bus. This bus, I want you to know.”

“I was there Captain, I was there. Forty-six years ago, today. One of them, the drummer I think, pronounced us man and wife.”

“I wonder what kind of cuisine they have in this establishment.”

“Brown rice and goat's milk?”

“Who you kiddin? You never ate brown rice or drank goat's milk.”

“Yeah, but it will be fun to watch the kid at the counter get confused and have to call his manager, as we protest the establishment.”