Chapter 5 5.Chapter 5: Enlightenment Has a VIP Section Now

Chapter 5: Enlightenment Has a VIP Section Now

It started with the goat.

Not the one from the roller rink event-this was a new goat. Smaller. Frenetic. Wearing a tiny satin cape that read "Blessed & Baa-lieve."

Its name was Kevin 2.

"Why is there another goat in the apartment?" Nate asked as it jumped onto the couch and headbutted a cushion off the side.

Trevor, applying glitter to his eyelids, shrugged. "Symbolism. It represents the duality of the spirit. Kevin 1 was ego. Kevin 2 is rebirth."

"It just peed on my sandals."

"Rebirth is messy, bro."

Since the First CUL-Talk, things had... evolved. Not slowly. Not gradually. Explosively.

A short list of recent developments:Flanderism now had its own official app, called "Flandr," which featured daily affirmations, mood-based snack recommendations, and a button labeled "Vibe Check" that just played Nate shouting "DO YOUR BEST!" in different emotional tones.

Three members of the advisory circle started referring to themselves as "The Crispy Disciples." Their logo? A waffle surrounded by flames.

Lana's podcast about Nate's rise-"Messiah Complex: The Accidental Guru Chronicles"-had hit #8 on national charts.

A YouTube channel called "Nate Said So" was getting a hundred thousand views per day. Most of it was slo-mo replays of Nate blinking thoughtfully.

Nate had tried-really tried-to slow things down. Once, he gave a speech where he just stood silently for two minutes and said, "Sometimes... the best thing to say... is nothing at all."

That got interpreted as a spiritual call for inner reflection.

A new silence-based yoga trend called "Natevity" emerged two days later.

Trevor's Brilliantly Horrible Idea

"I booked you a private retreat," Trevor announced, sliding into the living room wearing a robe made of what looked like recycled sequin curtains. "It's in the mountains. Very exclusive. Like spiritual VIP."

Nate groaned. "Trevor, I don't need a retreat. I need a restraining order."

"Dude, no. Listen. You get away from the chaos for a few days. Reset. Eat soup. Stare at trees. Figure out how to either lean into the madness or finally shut it down."

Nate hesitated.

He did want soup.

Three Days Later – The Retreat

The retreat was located in an old lodge tucked into the hills just outside Santa Borracho, a town known primarily for its hot springs and a 1976 UFO sighting that turned out to be a pizza delivery drone prototype.

As Nate stepped off the shuttle bus, he was greeted by three people in robes-actual monks, or very committed improv actors-holding a welcome banner that read:

"Breathe Deep, Snack Boldly, Flander Fully."

Nate turned to Lana, who had insisted on tagging along to document his "spiritual reset."

"They're quoting me again," he muttered.

She didn't look up from her phone. "That quote's on mugs now. The candle version smells like popcorn and citrus anxiety."

Inside the lodge, Nate found peace.

Like, actual peace. No chanting. No ukuleles. Just quiet. And soup. So much soup.

He spent the first day eating in silence and mentally drafting a speech called "Hey Everyone, Please Go Home and Get Therapy."

He rehearsed it into a carrot.

By day two, he even considered writing a book: "The Accidental Way: How to Say Nothing and Still Go Viral."

He started outlining chapter titles like:"Chapter 1: The Blank Stare of Wisdom"

"Chapter 4: Don't Be a Hero, Be a Hummus"

"Chapter 8: If the Robe Fits, Take It Off Anyway"

Lana, of course, found all of this hilarious.

"You know," she said over morning tea, "you're basically if Buddha had anxiety and a Twitter account."

"Thanks. I think."

Trouble Arrives in a Minivan

On the third morning, Nate woke to a rumbling noise. A caravan of minivans, jeeps, and two food trucks had pulled up outside the lodge gates.

Followers.

Dozens of them.

One was live-streaming from the passenger seat, shouting, "WE FOUND THE SOURCE! THE FOUNDER IS AMONG THE PINES!"

Another was handing out pinecones with Nate's face drawn on them in Sharpie.

Trevor, ever cheerful, greeted them in socks and a kimono. "Welcome, fellow soul risers!"

Nate sprinted outside. "What are you doing here?! This is a retreat! I'm retreating!"

"You didn't post for 36 hours," a woman sniffled. "We feared you were... lost in the spiritual fog."

"I was eating lentils!"

"That's a metaphor, right?"

The Spontaneous Summit of Flanderism

By afternoon, the lodge had become a makeshift conference center. People split into discussion groups titled things like:"Advanced Nacho Manifestation"

"Becoming the Couch: Lazy as a Spiritual Practice"

"How to Interpret the Phrase 'Microwave Your Destiny' in Relationships"

Someone erected a small sculpture of Nate made entirely from cereal boxes and driftwood. Zuzu arrived by Uber and set up a lemonade stand labeled "Nate Juice."

And then came the real kicker.

Marsha the Glitter Prophetess took the stage-well, a patio table-and announced, "It is time. We must appoint Nate as our official Supreme Resonator of Vibes."

"What does that even mean?" Nate cried.

"It means," Marsha said solemnly, "you are our everything bagel. Our crunchy guide. Our eternal snack."

"Please stop calling me a carbohydrate!"

Nightfall – The Accidental Fire Ritual

Someone-no one knows who-lit a campfire.

Someone else-probably Kevin 2-knocked over a bag of marshmallows.

Before Nate could stop it, a group of followers began singing a mash-up of Fleetwood Mac and his early speeches.

Trevor played the kazoo. Dennis the double-monocled accountant levitated a pretzel stick "with energy."

And Nate, sitting cross-legged on a log, looked up at the stars and said quietly to Lana, "This is getting very, very out of hand."

She took a sip of wine. "This is going to be an Emmy-winning docuseries."

"Promise me one thing."

"Name it."

"If I vanish mysteriously, and someone claims I've 'ascended to the Snack Plane'..."

"Yeah?"

"Push me down some stairs. Just to be sure."

END OF CHAPTER 5