Chill, Dude.

By Hank Fredo

Conner Williams is just a regular guy living in Venice Beach, going through life without much care and seeing where he ends up. Everything was going great (well, except that Winter, the love of his life, dumped him, but that's another story) until his bike goes missing. Without that bike he can't get to work, pay rent, or do pretty much anything.

With a little help from his friends, he travels all over the neighbourhood to look for his bike, but its like it vanished into thin air. Even when he's talking to video game characters, getting chased around the streets half-naked, or meeting with aliens, he never gives up hope on finding his bike. And maybe even finding himself.

A fun, light-hearted tale of mystery, self-discovery, and love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seagull Editions
• Release date: May 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223020479

Book preview

Chapter One

Dude, Where’s My Bike?

I was having a dream about wolves. Or it might have been about corgis. They were pulling me on a sled through the Alaskan wilderness. Or it might have been over Venice beach. Then all of a sudden I was a jacked up Viking dude in a horned helmet and tiny furry underwear, wielding an axe bigger than a shovel. I think I had seen that dude before, in a video game or something. But he was also me. There was something standing before me. No, looming over me menacingly. It was huge and grey with its fingers raised in a ‘peace’ sign. But I wasn’t there for peace. I lived only to slay enemies and build up points, so I raised my axe, ran in impressive slow motion towards the alien threat, ready to swing and bring it down.

But then my alarm went off and the dream ended. Within a few moments, I could barely even remember what it had been about.

I groaned as I slapped the alarm to stop. My head was spinning and I really didn’t want to get up. Not just because I didn’t want to go to work that day, I mean who wants to work on any given day, but also because my head was pounding from the previous night. I couldn’t exactly remember what had happened the previous night or what I had taken which made me feel so awful, but it had been enough to make me forget everything.

A notification flashed on my phone. ‘Car Wash, 8am’. Thanks for reminding me I had to work that morning, asshole. A second notification flashed up after it – ‘Art School, 2pm’. Oh, that’s just great. I had two jobs that day. That was just two more reasons why I had to get up even though I really didn’t want to. I knew work was important, but it got in the way of everything else like getting enough sleep and feeling inspired by my dreams. Those were really important.

I opened a new text message and wrote out a new one to my best friend, Charlie. He worked as a tax preparer at the H&R Block so he’s always up this early. He’s about the only one of my friends who is awake at such a horrendously early hour. I swear, humans were not meant to be up before noon.

What happened last night?

I waited a few seconds until I got a reply.

IDK. You just told me you were hooking up with a girl.

My heart lightened. I had been with a girl last night? I couldn’t remember at all.

Which girl? Was it Winter?

I waited for a few more tense seconds before I got the reply.

No, of course it wasn’t Winter. You didn’t say who it was.

My heart dropped a little. Of course Winter wouldn’t want me back. She wouldn’t even want to hook up with me. I kind of wish I did remember who it was, though. From the way my head felt, it must have been a good night.

I groaned and counted to ten before I hauled myself up. I had slept on the couch again and my back ached something fierce. As much as I didn’t want to, I needed these jobs. Los Angeles doesn’t come cheap, even a chill neighbourhood like Venice Beach. It’s either this or join the homeless encampment.

I staggered to the bathroom, taking a look at myself in the mirror. Just as I expected – I’m a wreck. Luckily it doesn’t matter so much at the car wash. So long as I can clear the seagull poop off the hoods of rich people’s overpriced Teslas, they don’t care what I look like. I only have to pull back my long blonde hair and don’t need to bother with shaving today. It’s been a few days, but it hardly matters.

A lot of people say I look like a surfer or a hipster, even though I’m neither of those. Not only because I never bothered to learn how to surf and I don’t have the money or rich parents to be a hipster. I’m just me, Connor Williams. I just go through life at my own pace, not being held down by labels. The way I look is just a natural part of the way I live. Brushing your hair, shaving, and dressing up in an itchy suit is unnatural. This is the way humans are meant to look. Maybe that’s why I always look like a Viking in my dreams. Or perhaps more like a caveman. People have called me that before and I can’t figure out whether or not it’s an insult.

Back when I was at school, everybody said I had the looks to become an actor. Kind of like Viggo Mortenson, the guy from The Lord of the Rings movies. Maybe that’s why I make all my video game characters look like him. Back then the girls all said I was cute and the guys at school got jealous, even though I can’t exactly help my genetics. So for a while I thought I would become an actor, since they all thought I could. It sounded kind of cool, actually. And it made me even more popular with the girls.

Of course, it turned out to be harder than just doing a few school plays. Every other person in California wants to be an actor. This town is full of them. More arrive and leave every day. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve met someone who seemed cool but six months later they were packing up their stuff in tears and heading back to Ohio or Tallahassee.

I did actually try the acting thing for a while. I joined the drama club at school and signed up for acting classes when I graduated. But it never quite worked out. I kept on skipping too many classes or not doing the assignments and I was kicked out. Or maybe I just stopped showing up. I can’t quite remember.

I always told myself that someday I was going to get back into acting again. I had my whole life ahead of me so I had time. I didn’t need to be a big star. Just bit parts would be fine if they paid the bills. But it never quite worked out. I sent out headshots once and went to a few auditions, but after that I just kind of gave up. Looking at myself now, I doubt I could break into acting at my age, even if some people tell me I still could. I’m not sure it’s what I want anymore. I don’t even know if I really wanted it in the first place or if I just liked the idea of it. That’s the real reason so many people move to Los Angeles in hopes of stardom. It’s just another in a long line of broken dreams. Just another regret to add to the pile.

At least all those young wannabes have families and homes to head back to when their dreams inevitably fail. They can go work for their dad’s company or something. I don’t even have that. My family gave up on me long ago. They kicked me out of the house claiming I was lazy and couldn’t stay if I wasn’t going to pay my share of rent. I know it’s just because they didn’t want a son who didn’t have some ‘respectable’ job like working as a bank teller or something. Either that or because I was