It was another day on the road for Yawo O. Jackson ("<em>Please</em>, call me Jack").  His car moved along I-12 at a steady 64 miles an hour.  Most of the other drivers were taking advantage of the amazingly low traffic to do 70 (or 80, maybe), but Jack knew that if he touched the accelerator, a policeman would be on his tail before he could even blink.  Why?  God knows.<br/>No, seriously.  Ever since his meeting with a literal deity (or the next thing to one, anyways), Jack had apparently crawled onto every watch list, every registry that didn't require an actual crime, and the "bad side" of every law enforcement agent in the country.  Or all of the ones he'd never met, at least; talking to him for a while seemed to improve their opinion, most times.  So, oddly enough, he was one of the most law-abiding people on the face of the earth.  Much good it did him, but it could always be worse, right?<br/><br/>And there were all manner of compensations.  Shortly after his brush with the spirit realm, he'd learned exactly what puberty must have been like for Superman.  His body had transformed itself, without any effort at all on his part.  And that was only the beginning.  One night, jogging home after sunset, a group of people had jumped out of an alley, effortlessly overpowered him, and done something he'd rather not remember.  It involved tattoo needles, live goats, cottage cheese, and a rusty iron helmet.  Trust me, you don't want to know.  He'd run home as soon as they released him, barely noticing how bright the streets seemed all of a sudden.<br/><br/>A portable sign by the roadside up ahead announced an accident within 5 miles.  More and more cars were starting to gather, anyways, so Jack decided to take a break.  New Orleans would still be there tomorrow.  And maybe the day after.  He pulled off at an exit-- an actual exit, never stop at a rest area because rest never happens there-- and began to look around at the various businesses.  First priority: food.  He spotted a Winn-Dixie.  A real one, like in the book.  His car turned in almost of its own accord.  He stopped near the front of the nearly-empty parking lot and walked into the store, visions of cheddar cheese and AC dancing in his head.