I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
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Chapter 80: Projector Problems and Popcorn Peace
Jon's Perspective
Jon lay sprawled across the living room couch like a soldier recently returned from battle—disheveled, depleted, and emotionally hollowed out. His limbs dangled lifelessly over the cushions as if gravity had finally won the long war, and even drawing in a deep breath felt like a task too monumental to consider. Every inch of his body screamed exhaustion. Not the pleasant, productive kind, but the soul-sapping fatigue that only comes from spending a few hours in the company of a highly energetic infant.
Balanced smugly on his chest was Ghost, who now appeared to be the true victor of the day's chaos. The little orange feline sat with the regality of an emperor reclaiming his throne, eyes half-lidded in satisfaction, tail twitching idly with feline detachment as the BabyTime! channel blared cheerily in the background. High-pitched songs about sharing and color shapes assaulted the airwaves.
Jon didn't even try to change the channel. Let it play. Let it win. At this point, nothing mattered. He had no energy left to fight a television or question why the theme song was permanently etched into his brain.
Then, as if summoned by fate's twisted sense of humor, the doorbell rang.
Jon stared blankly in the direction of the sound, momentarily wondering if it was a dream, or possibly a hallucination brought on by a dangerous levels of tiredness. He briefly entertained the idea of ignoring it—just lying there motionless, pretending the house was a deserted shell. But Ghost let out a pointed, unimpressed meow. Whether it was meant as a judgmental nudge or an expression of mild curiosity, Jon couldn't tell. Probably both.
With a groan that seemed to rise from his very soul, Jon slowly rolled off the couch and rose like a man emerging from the ruins of a collapsed building. His hair stood in wild, unkempt tufts, his robe was crumpled beyond recognition, and his eyes looked like they'd seen things—unspeakable things. Like an infant armed with the strength of ten caffeinated adults.
He dragged himself to the door, unlocked it, and swung it open to reveal Jay and Gloria, freshly returned from their short business trip. Jay looked travel-worn but composed, holding a modest suitcase in one hand and a sealed cardboard box in the other. Gloria, on the other hand, radiated the kind of peaceful glow that only came from hours spent in air-conditioned lounges and uninterrupted adult conversation. Her oversized sunglasses covered half her face, but Jon could still detect the unmistakable aura of smug relaxation.
Jay took one look at Jon and raised a single eyebrow. "You look like you got hit by a truck."
Gloria lowered her sunglasses with a dramatic flourish. "Jon! Dios mío, what happened to you?"
Jon replied in a hoarse voice that sounded like it belonged to a ghost. "We babysat Lily," he said. "Just me, Manny, and unfiltered chaos."
Jay let out a low, sympathetic grunt. "That kid's got lungs. Louder than my old drill sergeant."
Gloria's expression shifted from shock to something that resembled pride. She stepped forward and patted his shoulder. "You and Manny took care of her by yourselves?"
Jon nodded solemnly, as if confirming they'd survived a natural disaster. "There were moments when I wasn't sure we would make it."
"You are good boys," Gloria said warmly, placing a hand over her heart. "Family looks after family. That is what truly matters."
Jon managed a tired smile and reached out to help Jay with the bags. As he did, his eyes fell on the box tucked under Jay's arm. He squinted. "Is that… a projector?"
Jay's face broke into a proud grin. "Brand new. Top of the line. I figured we'd give it a spin tonight."
Something inside Jon quietly withered. All he wanted was to collapse into bed and sleep for the next three business days. Maybe more. And now there was going to be a backyard movie night?
Terrific.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the backyard had undergone a full transformation into what could best be described as a high-energy, lovingly chaotic Colombian-American open-air cinema. The projector had been mounted with care, the screen stretched taut against the gentle evening breeze. Folding lawn chairs were scattered across the grass in neat, semi-organized rows, and the unmistakable aroma of freshly popped popcorn wafted through the air like a siren's call.
But Gloria wasn't done. She had added bowls of empanadas, arepas, and various finger foods to the spread, turning the simple movie night into what looked like the start of a community celebration. A portable speaker blasted upbeat salsa music into the warm air, filling the space with an energy that felt both festive and mildly overwhelming.
Jon slumped into one of the chairs, arms folded across his chest, hood pulled up over his head like a reluctant monk meditating at a monastery of noise. Ghost was curled up beneath the blanket on his lap, apparently still recovering from Lily.
Manny appeared beside them, notepad in hand, already in Event Coordinator mode. "Since we're going to the trouble of doing this, I've compiled a list of cinema classics we can vote on. I propose we consider something thematically rich."
Jay stared at him like he'd just suggested holding a funeral at a birthday party. "We're watching Casablanca. No voting. No subtitles. Just Bogart, Bergman, and blessed silence."
Manny, undeterred, tried again. "But it's important to encourage post-film discourse. Art should be discussed—"
"It's also important you shut up during the film," Jay cut in.
Gloria stepped in, smiling as she handed out empanadas. "No fighting! This is family time. Jon, eat more. You need it."
Jon nodded gratefully and took a bite. He could still feel the weariness in his bones, but for a moment, the food dulled it. Flavor, at least, was something he could still appreciate.
Then the projector began to freeze.
Jay squinted at the screen as the spinning circle of digital death appeared. "What's it doing now?"
"It's buffering," Manny said, far too helpfully. "That means it's loading the video stream—"
"I know what buffering means," Jay snapped. "I just don't want it happening during my movie."
"It's probably the Wi-Fi," Jon mumbled.
Jay looked back toward the house, specifically at the router box mounted inside. "How can we have Wi-Fi strong enough for Gloria to FaceTime half of Colombia but not strong enough to stream a movie in the backyard?"
"Because Tía Rosa doesn't need 4K resolution," Gloria chimed in, biting into an arepa.
There followed a series of increasingly desperate attempts to reset the stream, reconfigure the connection, and relocate the router—all of which failed to prevent another round of buffering-induced agony. But finally, as though the digital gods relented, the movie began to play smoothly.
As the first notes of the soundtrack drifted through the air and the iconic black-and-white opening credits appeared, a collective sigh passed over the group. Jay settled into his chair with the satisfaction of a man who'd just won a war, Manny finally set his notepad aside, and Gloria cozied up beneath a blanket, smiling contentedly with a bowl of popcorn in her lap.
Jon leaned back in his chair, hood still up, eyes half-closed. The breeze rustled the grass. Ghost gave a sleepy twitch in his lap. Despite the ache in every fiber of his being and the trauma still lodged in his memory from the Lily ordeal, he felt... okay.
The glow of Casablanca flickered on his face, and in that quiet moment—somewhere between exhaustion and contentment—Jon realized that maybe, just maybe, things weren't so bad after all.
Even if he'd need a week to recover from today.