cheese jello

Jayson Black, and a combination of strangers that he embodies, and I are on our way to some small bayou town in Louisianna. We have a lot of trouble finding our way there because the roads are mapped for us on a napkin as a knotty oak tree. When we arrive, my father is the only person I recognize. Jason has even turned into someone I don't know. The party has an ala carte, self-service Thanksgiving feel. The Jello has, I think, cream cheese on it.