Against the entire van's better judgment, Larry stopped off in Bakersfield to refuel the van. Burt, Turk, and D.J. clamored out of the van like desperate clowns and made straight for the bathroom, while Larry watched the numbers on the gas pump click and whir. He rejoined the group as they meandered through the store, grabbing chocolate and sodas. "Guys, there's stuff in the cooler," he pointed out.

Turk held up a bottle of RC. "Variety, Lar. Man cannot live on Mountain Dew alone."

"Says you," he said. But Turk was right, Larry knew, as he walked with resigned grace to the beef jerky display.

He caught up to the group outside, where Turk and D.J. were bitching because Burt had called shotgun again, and Burt was patiently explaining the rules of shotgun to them.

"The rule is, everyone must be outside, and the vehicle must be clearly in sight." He glanced at Turk. "It's not my fault you were flirting with the counter help."

"Yeah, Turk, I wouldn't shake hands with anyone from Bakersfield. You might get stupid all over you."

"What a crock," muttered Turk. He noticed Larry was smiling at him. "What're you looking at?"

"Got something that may cheer you up," he said simply, then pulled the item from his bag with a flourish. "Viola! Six feet of beef stick!"

And indeed, they all looked at the coiled, shrink-wrapped, brown lariat of processed meat in horror and fascination. Across the top of the package was the manufacturer's logo and the words, SIX FEET OF BEEF STICK! "That sounds a little obscene," said Burt.

"Larry, you didn't just buy six feet of beef stick, did you?" asked D.J.

"No, dumb-ass, they're giving them out with a free fill-up, what do you think? Of course I did." Larry climbed into the driver's seat. "This is a road trip, so I bought processed meat. It's a guy thing."

"Dude, that's like, the grossest thing ever," said Turk.

"Suit yourself," said Larry, tearing open a corner of the package with his teeth. As he waited for a gap in the traffic that would let him merge onto the feeder road to I-5, he broke about a foot of beef stick off and stuck it in his mouth. "Mmmm, good beef stick."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," said Turk.

Burt turned around. "Hey, Deej, in the side pocket of my duffel bag is a CD wallet. Hand it up here, will you?"

D.J. dug around in the back and passed the black nylon CD case forward. "What did you bring?'

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," said Burt, mysteriously. He had stayed up late into the night burning several CDs for the trip.

"Oh god, it's not any of that weird college music you normally listen to, is it?" asked Turk.

"If by that you mean, R.E.M. and U2, then no. But, let me hasten to remind you, They Might Be Giants is considered weird college music to the rest of the world."

"That's different," said Larry, munching his beef stick. "They Might Be Giants are good."

"You know they didn't write 'Istanbul is Constantinople', right?" said Burt as he fiddled with his disks.

"Har de har," Larry said.

"No, it's not any of my normal music. I decided to tailor these mixes to the tastes of my esteemed traveling companions," said Burt. He inserted the disk labeled "Geek Love, Volume 1" and pressed play. Strident brass notes and a flurry of strings filled the van.

"It's..." said Turk.

"The theme from Battle of the Planets!" said Larry.

"My God," said D.J. in a quiet voice. "How did you do this?"

Burt grinned. "The Internet is my friend."

While the rest of the van sat stupefied, Burt helped himself to some of Larry's beef stick. Actually, he thought, chewing quietly, it wasn't half bad. Like a big Slim Jim.

The conversation in the van soon centered on each musical selection. Matthew Sweet's "Girlfriend" sparked a discussion about anime, which evolved into the outing of Matthew Sweet's inner geek. "I mean, he's got a song called 'Super Deformed.' Do I have to draw you clowns a picture?" said Burt. "And what about 'Evangeline'? That was a comic book, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it just wasn't a good one," said D.J.

"How come?" asked Burt.

"No capes."

Suddenly, the van was filled with the horrible sound of a guitar being chainsawed in two, followed by what sounded like a guitar mimicking the call of a hunting horn. "What the hell is this?" screamed Larry.

"Sounds like a British new wave band," said Turk in his best Bob MacKenzie voice.

"This," said Burt, pressing pause, "is where I become the musical geek of this group for once and for all. You all said there was no finer rock and roll song about Planet of the Apes than that crap that They Might Be Giants did, remember? Well, here's the proof."

Burt pressed play and a staccato drumbeat sounded, like gunfire. Then a crunching guitar riff broke in, and the lead singer commenced to yell in a warbling voice:

"Oh my god!" said Turk, who was now leaning forward between the seats to stare at the CD player. "That's the coolest thing I've ever heard!"

"What is it?" said D.J. "Who is it?"

Burt grinned. "The Mummies. 'You Must Fight to Live on the Planet of the Apes'."

"I'm convinced," said Larry. "You are the Mack Daddy. All of my musical concerns, I will forthwith direct to you. So speaketh me."

D.J. reached forward and grabbed the bag of beef stick. "Burt, start it over again," he said, tearing off a portion before passing it on to Turk. "What's the deal with this band?"

"Search me," said Burt, cuing the song again. "They're a garage band with a cult following. They like monkeys, I guess."

"Who doesn't?" asked Larry.

"I'm convinced," said D.J., chewing his beef stick like a cud. "I bow to your superior kung fu."

"Not me," said Turk. I've heard too much of your goofy shit to pay you any mind. I still think I have better musical taste than you."

"Okay," said Burt. "How about this: I've got an Andrew Lloyd Weber song on here. I'll bet you five bucks, you'll love it."

"Impossible," scoffed Turk. "I've heard all of them, and that man can't write music to save his life."

"I'm not going to have this argument with you again," said Burt, crossly. "That you're an R/T/F major and you don't like Jesus Christ, Superstar is just wrong. But I'm betting you, here and now, with witnesses, that I found an Andrew Lloyd Weber song you'll like."

"You're on," said Turk.

"Excuse me, everyone, I've got to school Mister Snooty-Pants back there," said Burt as he hit the search button. When he sat back, a loud, fast guitar started blaring, and another guitar joined it in the familiar notes of the Phantom of the Opera main theme. However, this version was double time, extra bouncy, with distortion, and the guy singing sounded like the lead singer from Weezer. By the end of the two and a half minute song, everyone was singing along: "The Phantom of the Op-er-a is here, inside my miiiiind!"

"Who was that?" demanded Larry.

"Me First and the Gimme Gimmes," said Burt, obviously pleased with himself. "They're a punk band, and they only do covers of other songs."

Everyone looked back at Turk. "What?" he said around a mouthful of beef stick.

"You were singing along," said Larry.

"And smiling," said D.J.

"Jesus..." Turk dug around in his pants pocket. "Here," he said, thrusting a crumpled bill forward.

Burt took the bill and admired it, savoring the victory. "You'd be five bucks up on the deal if you'd have just admitted it," he said.

"Fine, you're the geek music god," said Turk. "Now go back to the Planet of the Apes song."

"Geek music god," said Burt, rolling the title around his tongue. He drummed the back button on the CD, looking for the Mummies.