Small Town Jesus sat at his ice-cream stand. It was early evening and the summer sun was sinking slowly in front of him, just about to slip behind the shadow of the town hall. It had been a long day full of satisfied customers and his ice-box was almost empty. The street was nearly empty too. The last train had pulled into the station nearly an hour ago, and practically everyone in town was home now, sitting down to their evening meals, chatting with their kids or watching quiz shows on TV. The only sound was the distant sea-shell murmuring of the traffic on the High Street, punctuated occasionally by a wandering fly, or the inconstant dripping of condensation from the sides of the ice-box. Small Town felt happy, leaning back on his chair with his eyes half closed, a half-forgotten bottle of beer on the floor beside him getting warm in the evening air.

A shadow moved across his face, waking him from his daydream. He opened his eyes, squinting through the glare from the sun until the child-like form of Knee High Ezekiel came into focus. He sat up.

"Hey, 'Zeke, it's been a long time buddy. How's it going? When did you get out?"

Ezekiel looked down at him through the gap between the parasol and the ice-box. "Oh, hi there, sorry man, didn't mean to wake you. Don't get up on account of me."

Small Town understood the edge of a whine in 'Zeke's last sentence. It wasn't often that Knee High got the chance to look down at people so he obviously wanted to make the most of it. Small Town rocked forward on his chair and repeated his last question, "So, when did they let you out?"

'Zeke looked around in an abstracted fashion before leaning forward and whispering, "I just got out today. I've been wandering around town most of the afternoon looking for you."

Small Town opened up the ice-box.

"Do you want an ice cream?" 'Zeke's face lit up, "Just take one. Go on, man, it's good to see you. Did they fix you up?"

'Zeke picked out an ice lolly and pulled off the wrapper. Bits of paper stuck to the ice, and he scraped at them with his fingernails. "I don't know, Jes. I figured I didn't want anything to do with people that try to tell me I'm crazy just because I see bugs on the ceiling of my apartment. I mean, I know the bugs are there. I used to lie awake at night, watching the little critters running all over the place, up the curtains, across the ceiling. They used to spiral in towards the light if I had it on. It got so I couldn't sleep cos I was afraid that one of them would drop into my mouth and I'd choke to death without even knowing it. I only let them take me away because I thought the hospital would be free of them, but when they started turning up there, well, " he shrugged, "I just had to get away again, so I acted all normal and said I wasn't seeing no bugs no more and they let me go." He grinned at Small Town, "I sure fooled them, didn't I?"

Small Town looked at his friend as the grin slowly faded into awkward silence. Eventually,  feeling uncomfortable 'Zeke asked, "So how's things with you then?"

"Fine, fine," Jesus replied with a yawn, "Can't complain."

"Why not? Won't they let you?"

Small Town Jesus remembered how difficult it was trying to hold a conversation with Ezekiel, so he just started on another topic, "Say, I bumped into First Time down at Pharoah's the other night."

Ezekiel looked up from his ice-cream, which was starting to drip over his hands. "Old Mo? Jeez, I haven't seen him in a while. What's he up to these days?"

Small Town sighed. "I don't know, man. Still travelling I guess. I'm worried about the guy. He hasn't been the same since he lost his job at the distillery. He just keeps moving from place to place, and I don't think he even knows what he's looking for. I offered to let him stay at my place and help me out with the stand, but he just upped and left like he always does. Don't know where he is now." A thought struck him, "Say 'Zeke, you looking for a place? I heard your landlord let your old room out to someone else cos he thought you weren't going to be coming back. You want to move into my spare room and help me out with the stand?"

Ezekiel thought about this while he licked the dripping ice-cream from his fingers. "No, man, I can't. I mean its a nice place and all, and I'll help out with the stand if you like, but I'm never going to sleep under a ceiling again. I'm going to go down to the park and sleep out in the open where there's less chance of bugs falling in my mouth. Thanks, though." He looked down at the ice cream that had melted down leaving only the stick, "And thanks for the ice cream. I'm off to the park now, I'll see you around."

Small Town watched his friend walk off down the road, trying to figure out what was going on in the guy's head. Finally he sighed to himself, "I don't know, man. It must be a weird place to live.", and lent back on his chair, knocking over the forgotten bottle of beer. He looked down at the warm liquid spreading out across concrete. The sun dipped down past the roof of the Town Hall and everything suddenly felt cold. Time to pack up and go home.