Chapter Text
Jack's mind raced as he walked his familiar route home. He wasn't mad at Stan for telling him to leave the party, but even in his drained, post-gig state he could sense something was off between them. He suspected that Stan only let him join SeX-rays to kill two birds with one stone, his cool college band would have a drummer and Jack would be able to hang out with his brother outside the house. He would never say it out loud but he felt like a third wheel, in fact he felt like he was watching them ride a tandem bike perfectly in sync while he desperately tried to catch up on a unicycle. He couldn't shake the feeling he could be doing more. He wanted to give his own ideas, he wanted to write songs, but he could never imagine himself doing those things. Even if Stan asked him to help with songwriting he would insist he stay behind the drum set. Jack started to seriously wonder; what damage would it do if he left his comfort zone? What would even happen if he let his mind run wild? He had some lyrics, he wrote some music, he could play the keyboard well enough to pitch it to the band, but he didn't have the balls to try. It was like there was a part of himself he hadn't met yet. The part of him that would have the balls to go for it. The part of him that could take his dreams and make them reality. The part of him that's confident, free of inhibition, strong both physically and emotionally, like the heroes from his favorite movies. Okay maybe not that cool, those movies earned him the nickname 'fuckin' nerd', but he knew there was more to him than that. If he could just unlock this hidden potential, he could use his music to bring some good into the world.
Jack sighed solemnly, rejecting the idea. He had way too many hesitations circling around his brain. Breaking out of his thoughts, he realized he was about to turn onto his street and stopped in an instant. His deep thought had distracted him from how tired he was, so he looked up at the night sky while he caught his breath. His mom would definitely worry if she knew he walked several blocks by himself. As Jack stood with his hands in his sweatshirt pocket something extraordinary caught his eye. A shooting star brighter than any star he'd ever seen streamed across the dark, cloudy sky. His eyes were instantly transfixed, unable to focus on anything else. It had to be a sign. Almost instinctively he sprinted after it. This was his wake up call, his chance to make his dream a reality. After this he was going to show Stan the song he'd been working on. He bolted away from his house, down streets, through crosswalks, and into the dense Canadian forest. His legs felt like they were about to collapse but he didn't care. He was utterly helpless but to look upon on the fiery ball of light and follow it wherever it went. He secretly always believed there was some scientific evidence behind wishing on shooting stars, and when he heard the star plummet to the forest floor he was sure he was going to prove it, but what he found was no shooting star.
Jack stood in utter disbelief. The shooting star was in fact a burning metallic heap with broken wing-like parts detached from it.
"That looks like a spaceship" Jack thought. "Which would be way better than a shooting star if it weren't also crazy."
Suddenly there was an eerie glow emanating from the vessel. The only things Jack could hear was the rapid beating of his own heart and muffled shouting coming from inside it. Jack cautiously crept over to the wreckage, leaves and twigs crunching beneath him with every step, and began removing the debris blocking a hatch like door. Suddenly the door flew open, knocking him to the ground. His vision began to get hazy. All he could make out was a shadowy figure poking their conical head out of the hatch, and then everything went black.
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"BRO! Get your FUCKIN' alarm!"
Stan stood above his brother's bed shaking him lightly. The cacophony of Jack's alarm clock and Stan's usual morning compliants confirmed his suspicions about the strange events from last night. It was all a crazy dream, and he was still a fuckin' nerd. Jack rubbed his eyes and began to collect his thoughts.
"Dude, I'm feeling absolutely cramdangled after last night." He groaned as he threw a pillow.
"Cut me some slack!"
Stan walked out the door, dodging the weakly thrown pillow, but immediately returned with a confused look on his face.
"Cramdangled?"