Welcome to Loserville, the sign read. I glanced back down at the road ahead then back up as my caffeine-impaired brain realized the significance of the words. Loserville. As in, "Welcome to Loserville, population one-you." I looked back up again to try to catch the population, but of course the sign was long gone. I glanced at the dashboard clock: twenty-seven twenty-five. Odd. Twenty-seven? That'd be… what? Wait! Twenty-SEVEN?

Hmm, I thought, must be malfunctioning. I shrugged and drove on.

That's when I saw the man. He was about sixty or so, wearing a black overcoat and plaid sweatpants, carrying an umbrella. He waved at me and I pulled over.

He opened the door but didn't get in. "If I were you, son, I'd turn back."

He must be out of his mind, I thought. I have to be in Frisco at three, and God only knows what time it is now… "Do you need a ride somewhere, Gramps?"

He looked at me in disgust. "No, I'm… I'm going the other way. Have an nice stay." He slammed the door and I drove on.

Weird old guy, I thought. I wonder what he meant by 'stay.'

Then I saw the sign. "Welcome to Loserville."

And under the sign, that same old man, shaking his head sadly.

* * *

At the time, I wasn't too concerned. But once I'd driven past the same sign eighteen or twenty more times, I slowly began to catch on.

"For some reason, I must have gotten into an endless loop. I should make a turn before I waste any more of my precious time." I turned right at a stoplight I'd seen nineteen times before.

And on the right side of that road was a sign.

"Welcome to Loserville."

And underneath that sign stood an old man.

Alright, I thought, either I'm dreaming or something screwy's going on here. I pulled up to the old man again. "Hey, Gramps, can you tell me how to get out of here?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "You should have listened to me before, kiddo." He paused. "I'd start by remembering how you got here."

"Thanks, sir." I pulled away.

"And above all, stay away from the c-!" he shouted as I drove off.

I wonder what he wanted me to stay away from, I thought.

Suddenly the car stopped. I looked up and saw that I was parked on what seemed to be the main street of a small town.

Odd. I tried to restart the car and found the keys were gone.

After sixteen and two-fifths minutes of fruitless searching, I began to panic. by now, it was about eight in the evening, and beginning to get dark. "Oh, shit, I messed the… I missed the…" Fuck. I know I missed something, but what the … God, I'm losing my mind. "What to do, what to do… I'll ask for directions!" Before I realized that I had begun to talk to my car, I hurried into the nearest building.

The light was low. I let my eyes adjust, then half-ran over to a desk with the sign 'Deepsleep Motel and Eatery: Information, Reservations,. Donations, Complaints and Pawnshop.' "Excuse me, could you tell me the way to…"

"Name?" a man's nasal voice from behind a computer inquired."

"Rindall Jackson." What? My name wasn't Rindall… was it?

"Traveling alone?"

"Uh, yes, but…"

"BMI?"

"What? Listen, all I want to know is the way to…"

"BMI?" the voice repeated, sounding mildly exasperated.

"Well, twenty-four, but…"

"Excellent." Something about his tone made the hair on my arms stand on end. "I have just the room for you, sir. Follow me."

"But I only…" I started, then stopped in shock as the owner of the voice stepped down from the chair.

There, standing on is hind legs, was a fat gray cat.