the smuggler’s bible

Ulysses

Ulysses’ bike gives out on him as he crests the hill and sees the little town in the valley. It sputters to a stop by a fence and the farmer holding it up.

“Howdy.”

“OK, what’s the deal here? You guys got an evil mayor? Some kind of tycoon situation?”

“I guess you mean our corrupt sheriff. Say, it’s a shame about that nice motorcycle of yours, stranger. Maybe if—”

“I’ll buy a new one. This is a message from the gods,” Ulysses says. “You can’t stuff the guts back into the sacrificial bull. That just isn’t how it works.”