Not in Mayberry

Rude Awakening

I
When Andy Taylor woke up, the surroundings were oddly familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Being from Mayberry he was used to the country and its smells. Even so the smell of horse manure was overwhelming. He shook the cobwebs loose in his head and pulled himself up from the stack of hay that he had fallen into from somewhere—he couldn't quite remember what had happened.

He pushed open the wooden barn door and was blinded by the bright sunshine, only partly mitigated by the dirt and dust hanging in the air. WAIT, WAIT a darn–gone minute! That looks like Kitty Russel from the series Gunsmoke. It couldn't be. Andy recalled that he and Ope had just watched it last night. How had he landed on the set of Gunsmoke? In a trance, Andy stepped down in the street and into a pile of horse dung. He was almost run over by a horse and its rider, "Watch yer self, there lawman!" the rider exclaimed as he passed by. Juking back Andy was startled at how real everything seemed. He had heard that TV sets were facades, and nothing was real. Looking around he wondered where Miss Kitty had gone—then came the tap on the shoulder. Turning he came face to face with Festus, who drawled, "Waiell mister, you seem a bit out of sorts if you don't mind me saying so." Inspecting Andy further, he remarked, "Whereabouts is this here Mayberry that I see on your badge there and just what sort of sheriff are ye anyway?" Andy, starting to formulate a reply was interrupted with "And where did ya git them there fancy duds? I don't reckon seeing them anywhere here in Dodge at least."
Not knowing where to start, Andy stated the obvious (at least to him), "This is the series Gunsmoke, right? And you're playing the character Festus, right?" As he said those words he had a sinking feeling. Either he was guest–starring on the show or this was not a show. No, no, Gunsmoke is only a TV show!
"Looky here mister, I don't reckon a thing about no gunsmoke—hadn't heard a shot all day as a matter of a fact—and I'm Festus Hagan, born and reared."
Andy's head was spinning and he felt light-headed and sick to his stomach at the same time. Then the lights went out.
When he came to he found the friendly, grandfatherly face of Doc gazing down on him with a furrowed brow, "Young fellow, you took quite a spill out there on the street. Heat git to you?"
Andy didn't know what to say. This is a TV show, darn it, but everyone sure is acting like it is real life. All he could do was mutter, "I don't rightly know. But, I need to get out of here and back to Mayberry..."
"Hold on a minute, you need to just lie here and rest for a spell," Doc said as he gently pushed down on Andy's chest.
"Waiell one thing I rightly know, mister sheriff," Festus sarcastically interjected "Is that no self–respecting lawman walks around these here parts without a gun—at least not a lawman who wants to live."
Andy, beyond bewildered could only manage, "I'm not from around here."
"Waiell then maybe you just wanna tell us what parts yer from? When Matthew gits back from down to Laredo, he gonna wanna some answers and you better have 'em."
And again, the lights went out.

License to Fish
Andy came to sometime later; how much later he had no way of knowing. From the looks of the window the shadows were getting long. He was, for the time being alone, and he tried to take stock of the situation. Where am I? If this is really Dodge, Kansas, how did I get here? No, No, get that out of your head, this is a TV show. If anything, I'm in Hollywood. No, that can't be either. Andy wasn't a drinking man, but he was beginning to wonder if a drink weren't in order. He thought he recognized the back room to Doc's office. He'd seen patients recuperate there before—Recuperate? They weren't hurt or sick, it was all pretend.
"Just then the door opened and Andy quickly shut his eyes, feinting sleep. "Where do you think he's from, Doc?" Matt Dillon asked.
"I don't know but look here. These clothes sure are peculiar and look at these greenbacks—ever seen anything like them?" Doc replied. Wait, they took my clothes off? "Look closer at the dates on those bills." "Hmm, 1957, 1960, 1961. That makes no sense, it's 1878; how could money have dates from the future on it?" Dillon pondered. Holy cow! 1878?! Andy's heart was racing and beating so fast and loud that he was sure his game of playing opossum was about up. "And look at this, some sort of license—driver's, whatever that means—has his name on it, Andrew Taylor and says he's from Mayberry, North Carolina," Doc remarked as he continued to go through Andy's wallet. "What do you suppose a driver's license is? Does he drive freight wagons? And what about this, another license, this one for fishin'—ha! Imagine that, needing a license to go fishin'! If that's the future, then I want nothing to do with it," Doc said, shaking his head.

"Well, Doc, when he wakes, come and get me. I have some questions for him and I hope, for his sake, he has answers," Dillon remarked. There must have been a nod of agreement, for Doc did not reply, but the door to the room opened again and shut. Andy lay there, still faking sleep, making sure he was alone. Pardon the expression, but I need to get the heck out of Dodge. He waited a few minutes until he heard the outer door open, close and heavy footsteps descend the wooden stairs outside Doc's office. It's now or never, Andy slowly and as quietly as possible, got up and went to door, pressing his ear, hearing nothing. He slipped back into his clothes. He crept over to the window. It was pitch dark and not a soul in sight. The window was already open, so Andy gingerly eased himself out of the window and was gone.

II

"On the street, Andy kept to the shadows and back alleys, hopeful he'd not run into anyone. He needed to find a place to lay low and get his bearings. Where am I? When am I? He didn't know, but he intended to find out. On the show he'd remembered that men would sometimes hide out in the livery stable, so he headed that way. It was pitch dark inside, but Andy crept in, I should have my flashlight, feeling his way and climbing up to the upper loft. He bedded down. No use trying to do anything in the dark, but tomorrow I have to figure this out! And he drifted off to sleep.

III
"Waiell, just where in tarn-nations do you think he got to?" asked Festus upon learning that their North Carolina friend was gone. "Looks like he climbed out the window and down into the back alley," Dillon remarked, "I don't think he'll get far in the dark and we best all get some sleep and figure this out in the morning."

Nighmare
"From his perch in the hay loft, Andy could peer down onto the street and watch the comings and goings. He was still drowsy from whatever Doc had given him and he struggled to stay awake, but he wanted to get his bearings and the first thing a peace officer does, sometimes, is observe. The more he watched, the more he thought, This doesn't look like these people are pretending or playing parts. He wasn't sure what that meant, but it didn't bode well. There, across the street, something familiar about that woman...her walk, the way she carried herself. He wished she'd turn around so he could see her face. But she walked into the mercantile and he'd just have to wait for her to come out.
He must of dozed off, for the next thing he knew he was hearing a very familiar voice yell, "Pa, hey Pa, wait up" He woke with a start and yelled "Opie, is that you?" Taking stock of his surroundings, he knew it couldn't be Opie. Then he caught a glimpse of the boy attached to the cry for his "Pa" and he almost fainted again. There was his Opie, running "down the street, chasing some stranger, he was calling "Pa." Holy shit (Andy was not a profane man) what the hell is happening! What kind of nightmare am I in? His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a gun cocking and that scraggly voice of Festus, saying, "Waiell mister, I might have known you hide yer self up here."

IV
"Git in there!" Festus exclaimed as he opened the jail cell. "Let's just see you escape from here. Can't just open a winder, like you did at Doc's."
"I didn't realize I was a prisoner," Andy replied, trying to remain calm. He had a feeling it would not be good to make this guy mad. "What am I charged with?" Andy asked.

"CHARGED WITH?! Waiell you're charged with just being 'bout the strangest body we ever had here in this here Dodge—is that good enough for ya?" Andy elected to remain silent, feeling as if he'd get nowhere pressing the issue and if he was ever to get out and find Opie, he best keep his mouth shut. His mouth might be shut, but his guts were churning. The voice. The mannerism. The way he ran—all unmistakably Opie.
"By the by, who's this here 'Opie' you was calling for from the hay loft?" asked Festus.
"I don't remember, must have been dreaming," Andy replied.
"Waiell, must be have been a nightmare the way you yelled"
"You don't know the half of it."

V
Andy woke to a familiar voice. "Sheriff, he's done it this time!" With a start, Andy bolted up from the cot and said, "Okay Barney, who's done what?" Then he looked around, took stock of his surroundings and realized it couldn't be Barney. It seemed as if no one heard him, as there was no reaction from Dillon or Festus.
"Yes sir, he's sure has done it this time! You need to hold him in jail until the district judge comes around again."
"Okay, Jed, what's he's done?" Dillon asked.
"WHAT'S HE DONE?! He's allowing his mangy sheep to water in my creek. That's my creek, for my cattle. You told him to stop, I demand he be arrested and held over for trial."
Andy could not see him, but that voice is Barney all over, I'd know it anywhere! What's going on—have we all landed in Dodge?

"Now Jed, I asked Zeke to find another water source for his sheep, IF he could. I never ordered him to do so," Dillon replied, watching his tone, knowing how excitable Jed could be.