by GR Griffin
However, Johnny’s demons were not the only thing Vail had taken…
“Of course, even the greatest dreams…” Slowly, Vail held his hands out and rotated them around each other. “Can become nightmares.”
Up above, the applause signs rotated on a pair of axis and stopped to show another face to the monster’s watching: boo. The audience switched as sudden as the signs, turning from thunderous cheering to resentful jeering. Johnny rocked away, pushing the strings to their breaking point, but the crowd was not so easily cajoled. The same spectators who threw roses at his feet one minute ago were now flinging red, ripe tomatoes. Johnny stopped playing guitar hero and started playing dodgeball with the fruit exploded around him, using his instrument as a shield.
A few stray throws tumbled in Fleck’s direction. They remained standing, watching as they neared. This entire thing was a dream, so there was no way those fake tomatoes could possibly—
SPLAT! A tomato struck Fleck square in the face, bursting red juice all over them. The wet and soggy explosion sent them reeling back and impulsively wiping their face as the rest crushed against the floor around them. Leftover pieces of the flattened fruit slid off their nose as the inner fluid ran down their face, some of it getting into their mouth. On its own, tomato was a slimy, disgusting experience.
A fit of hysterical laughter erupted from Vail’s booth. He had a fancy phone in his hand with the lens aimed at the child. “Oh, man, I so got that on video! You took it in the face like a champ!” he cried between sputters as he fiddled with the touchscreen. “That’s definitely going upline! Next time, you might want to duck!”
No way, Fleck thought. All of this was in Johnny’s head, yet the feeling of tomato running down their chin and getting into their mouth felt real. Each crashing fruit against the floorboards sent miniature shockwaves through their soles.
Johnny was no match for the barrage as they began to bury his diminutive body. Just seeing the poor guy shrink under the volley of red was heart-breaking; this was his dream, the one thing he strived to be the best at than anyone else, and now he received dejection from everyone he thought loved him and showed him support. His entire livelihood falling apart before his eyes, in his own fantasyland.
As they dodged the heavy rain, Fleck pondered on how they could help him, or if he can even be helped. He was a lone guitarist playing before a crowd of an impossible scale, but he needed more. He needed backup of some kind, but what?
Before they knew it, Fleck was scratching their head with a drumstick.
Of course, a band! In their thoughts, they thought about a drummer – the second thing associated with a rock band. So… If this was imagination land, did they have the power to change things with thought alone? Was it their thoughts of drumming that conjured the stick into their hand?
Fleck closed their eyes and visualised a drum set. A posh one with kick drums, cymbals and everything. They opened their eyes and there it was, the same set they pictured in their head, all set up and ready to use. They wasted no time in getting to work, jumping onto the stool and flailing at the drums randomly. They did not need to play well, just as long as they imagined the music good.
Their wicked solo stopped the hail, mellowing the crowd to a simmer. At that moment, Johnny crashed from the mountain of red mush, landed on their knees, and scratched out an epic rift, turning the audience back onto his side. Together, the monster human duet created wonderful music, his guitar and their drums complimenting each other.
Fleck went insane, swinging like they had never swung before. They whacked the membranes, crashed the symbols and relentlessly tapped their foot on the pedal. Electricity ignited the air, fuelling the crowd and tingling the drops running down their forehead. They reached their epic finale, screeching a crescendo so loud that it nearly brought the house down.
They finished their song to the rumble of cheering. Johnny took his instrument by the neck and smashed it into ground, breaking it into pieces. “Goodnight, everybody, we love you!” Johnny screamed to the crowd before marching off the stage a hero, waving to his semi-loyal fans. Fleck stepped away from the drums and followed, stopping to take one bow to the masses watching.
Fleck pushed the dividing cover aside and stepped through, walking into darkness. There was nothing backstage. The rumbling from onstage was cut off as quickly as pressing mute on a remote control.
From that darkness, Vail appeared, offering a slow round of applause. “Now that’s what I call creative. When the whole world turned against you, instead of running away, you stood your ground and managed to turn back the tide, all while playing by the rules.” His arms went akimbo, his head cocked to the side. He spoke and acted like he was studying the human, analysing the results. “Let’s see how well you do in the next one.”
Before Fleck, another enclosure illuminated, this one much different from the theatre. In the middle sat Mika on a soft beige carpet, surrounded by mountains of presents a massive variety of sizes and coloured wrappings, a group of goers in party hats, and before a cake that was almost as big as her. Topped with a hundred candles, not a single one unlit. No expense had been spared; balloons hung high alongside shimmering banners, although connected to no viewable ceiling. There was a buffet table, lined with white-sheeted tables. The extravagant feast had no appeal due to Fleck’s lack of appetite.
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you,” the song was sung by the choir of people around the girl of the hour. Vail stood back, playfully pretending to conduct with his hands. “Happy birthday, dear Mika. Happy birthday to you.”
Mika blew out the candles as the crowd said their hip hip horrays.
“Throughout Mika’s life,” Vail commentated, “not once did she have a birthday to remember. She had parties alright, but if it wasn’t one thing going wrong, it was another. Lousy presents; terrible food; bad turnout; the DJ not showing up; you name it, it’s happened. But in this world, it’s her birthday every minute of every hour of every day, and nothing ever turns sour.” He clasped his hands together. “So… what did you bring for the birthday girl?”
Fleck glanced over at Mika, who looked back, anticipating the human’s next move. They closed their eyes and imagined the biggest, fanciest present anyone could wish for. Its lightweight materialised in their hands. Just like with the drums, there was a gift, wrapped in silver wrapping paper with gold star spangles, tied with a pretty blue bow.
“For me?” Mika gasped as Fleck set it down next to her. She had an entire pile of gifts to go at, enough to make even the most spoiled of brats sick, yet somehow it was theirs that attained her attention the most. “You shouldn’t have…” Seeing her joy also filled them with joy, even if it was an illusion.
While this happened, Vail remained riveted to his spot, watching events from afar. “Nice one. No way is she forgetting that anytime soon.” He held himself aloof. Hands deep within pockets. “By the way, remember how I said nothing turns sour around here?” His smirk turned to the side, followed by a low chortle. “I lied.”
Suddenly, the present Fleck handed over jolted, as if it were alive or something was alive inside. Everyone excluding the veil himself stepped back, distancing themselves.
The shifting contents only heightened the birthday girl’s intrigue. “Wow, did you get me a puppy?” she asked with an overbearing stare. “I love puppies, adore the world out of them! I just wanna rub their tummies and stroke their fur and—”
The sides of the present ripped away as eight massive, spindly legs broke out from within. A head burst through the front, revealing twenty eyes and snarling fangs, oozing globs of saliva. The goers scattered, shrieking and jumping for cover in the mountains of gifts as they fled from the monstrosity, all except Mika who tumbled back, paralysed from how rapidly such a happy moment escalated into full-blown chaos. Her once bright and cheerful face was overcome with unspeakable horror as she stared into those evil red eyes. She edged back, too stricken with fear to move, helpless against the spider as
its form eclipsed her, impaling the cake with one of its dagger-like legs. Traces of drool dripped onto her head.
A desire to help Mika overcame the human. If they did not help, then the cake was not what was going to be eaten today.
Fleck grabbed a nearby present and yelled out as they hurled it, hitting it in its hind legs, which got the spider-present’s attention. The present landed and split open, revealing a skateboard. It reared its head, all twenty red eyes focusing on the tiny creature with the large backpack. That attack with the gift only made it madder. The teeth parted, strands of saliva webbed between them.
In the span of a second, the giant spider turned and charged, accidently landing one leg on the skateboard, losing balance as its foot slipped away. It gave Fleck an idea. Fleck grabbed another, bigger present beside them, pushing it over and kicking the box lid off. A river of marbles poured out, covering the spider’s path within seconds. It slipped and tumbled straight out of a family-friendly movie.
Fleck opened another oversized, wrapped box and heaved out a mini trampoline, big enough for one. As the spider struggled to gain footing, Fleck set the trampoline down. They moved back to get a running start, then bolted forward. They leapt onto the trampoline and bounced into the air, straight over the giant spider. Fleck nabbed its bow, their momentum untied the knot, separating both ends. With nothing holding it together, the box fell apart, revealing the spider’s pair of boxers; white with red hearts and designed for four pairs of legs.
The party goers stopped screaming and suddenly started laughing. Mika broke from her terror and she started laughing too. The monstrous beast, realising its sudden lack of modesty, feebly covered itself up before clumsily shuffling away, humiliated, embarrassed, and defeated.
On cue, a large gift broke apart against the might of the puppies inside, who all flocked to Mika. All the terror from before was quickly forgotten as she stroked their luxurious furs. “This is the best birthday ever!” she announced, accompanying her overwhelming joy with more clapping.
Another birthday cake slid in, a replica of the first. Mika puffed the candles out, plunging the room in darkness.
There was Vail again. “How curious. I’ve shown that exact same dream to many others, and violence was the first thing they all jumped to. But you’re different – taking another approach. You’re the first human I’ve met, and you’re turning out to be very… fascinating. I’m interested to see how well you perform with Lena.”
The scene changed, from a casual room to something best suited for a martial arts epic; Japanese folding screens and rice straw flooring; Byōbu and tatami – if Alphys’s knowledge was correct. The translucent peach panels shone with early evening light.
Lena, the brown cow, stood in the centre, a black gi over her large frame. She was flanked on three sides by three opponents, all wearing outfits of red. Lena was still, calm, feet apart, one hand down, the other coiled by her waist. An enemy to her left charged, projecting his punch by keeping it raised above shoulder level, in which the expert saw coming a mile away. She dodged it easily, following up with a kick to the back of the legs, downing him. A second thug attacked from behind; Lena span around, catching his punch before delivering one of her own.
“Ah… Lena, Lena, Lena…” Vail shook his head at each passing of her name from his lips. “So much anger, so much pent-up rage – a lifetime of being pushed around will do that to you.” Lena swiftly punched another in the throat, followed by a swifter throw to the ground. “Fortunately for her, I found the perfect outlet. Now nobody is pushing her around anymore.”
With a flowery jump kick, the last goon went down, bringing the total up to three. Those guys shrivelled and twisted in pain. Lena stood over them all, having taken them down without so much as breaking a sweat.
Fleck knew what was coming before Vail opened his mouth. He said, “But where’s the excitement in taking on three? How about we make it a hundred.”
The far wall collapsed and in entered an opposing force of a hundred ninja pirates – or was that pirate ninjas? – wrapped in black suits with added pirate hats and eye patches. Their taunts, a jumble of hiyahs and arrrs, drowned out all thoughts. One advanced on Lena, who blocked the first strike. She went to counter, only for that to be countered, resulting in her receiving a hard body shot. Two more joined the fray. Lena avoided a flying kick from one but caught a jab from the other. As she engaged him, her focus on the kicker was lost; her lack of concentrating earned her a kick to the back.
It was no good, Lena was getting the stuffing beaten out of her. Fleck dove deep into their imagination, shutting their eyes and thinking as hard as they could.
They knew what to do.
Fleck glanced down, finding themself garbed in a white karate gi, ordained with a black belt around the waist. A white bandanna with a red circle in the centre and Japanese symbols on each side was tied around their forehead. Their bare feet sank into the floor; it was softer than they anticipated.
Wasting no time, Fleck dove into action. Lena was down on her knees, both arms held by two ninja pirates. A third, ready to deal the final blow, reached behind his back for the katana; Fleck drove their heel into his belly before he could extract it from the scabbard. Lena, getting second wind, slipped from her holders’ grasps and punched them both away. All three of them rolled back, sinking away wounded animals into the fleet of black robes.
Lena got up, dusting off her black outfit and smoothing out the creases. She turned to Fleck and moved her mouth to formulate words. There was silence for a few lip moments before lyrics came out, not from her but from somewhere else, unsynchronised to her mouth and sounding like someone else blatantly reading them off a script. “Your timing is impeccably well-placed, my young apprentice.” Her mouth movements continued a full second afterwards. “However, it appears that the enemy have us both cornered and severely outnumbered. Perhaps a quick exit may be preferable?”
Fleck struck the only martial arts pose they knew – the one used in the ending of that movie The Karate Kid – and responded by wildly flapping their lips. Another monotonous voice, in a tone that suggested that English wasn’t their first language, spoke so they didn’t have to: “Nonsense, my humble master. Our foe have us outnumbered, yes, but they can never hope to outmatch the Way of the Dexterous Puffin.” Fleck’s stance faltered slightly, trying not to cringe at the sound of that name. The Way of the Dexterous Puffin? Did that seriously sound like a name worthy of the deadliest martial art in the universe? Who writes this stuff?
Vail remained quiet, shifting his gaze guiltily left and right before shrugging. “Titles are hard.”
“Adamantly stated,” Lena ‘responded’ with unmoving lips. She mouthed the next ones though. “Our combined expertise will surely see us through this… day.” Fleck caught the sound of a page being turned in that pause.
The remaining ninety-seven ninja buccaneers attacked, all of them charging in at once. Master Lena and her sidekick, Fleck, screamed at the top of their lungs as they entered the fray. The two became a force to be reckoned with, punching and kicking and jumping and dodging and countering and double teaming, one after another sending the invaders running for the hills.
All the young apprentice needed was an active imagination and everything flowed. They hated to admit it, but kicking major butt was actually pretty fun. Feeling like the heroes in a martial arts epic.
They worked their way through the ranks until one remained. The final pirate ninja – one of his legs fake – pulled out two swords, one notably bigger than the other. His stance was open, all their training in the secret arts forgotten amidst the decimation of his troops. He rambled incoherently at the high kicking duo.
The martial arts experts looked at each other and grinned. This final guy deserved the finishing touch. Together, Fleck and Lena leapt at the final foe, following with their feet. They broke through the wall, wood splintering and fabric tearing in the process.
Fleck landed. Their boots absorbing the i
mpact as they landed on stone flooring, having escaped the dream world and landing back in reality. Up ahead lay the exit, another long winding tunnel out of here. Lena and Fleck shared one final bow between master and student before the latter formed their own path out of there.
Before they left, they took one look back at Johnny, Mika, and Lena, who had all resumed their fantasies. Fleck wished they could snap them out of their daydreams, but they did not know how.
They sprinted as fast as their load could allow them. The weight of their winter gear on their body and the pack on their shoulders pushed them down. They sprinted for a minute before working down to a brisk jog. Ten minutes of running, yet the tunnel went on, almost like they were stuck in the first and it was ready to turn into an ice tube on them.
Fleck rounded a bend. Right behind it stood the master and controller of dreams himself, munching on a red and white striped bucket of popcorn.
“That was some quality four-and-a-half star out of five entertainment right there. What made you lose that half a star? Impossible standards, my friend. Impossible standards.” Vail clutched a single kernel and popped it into his gob.
Fleck kept going, refusing to stop, refusing to acknowledge his existence. Maybe if they ignored him, he’ll go away. They rounded a sharp left and there he was again, digging into the same bucket as before.
“That reminds me of this one time I threw a giant, fire breathing lizard at Lena just for the heck of it,” on he rattled. “She started strong, climbing up the tail before scaling the back and hitting him on the top of his head. She was doing well until the thing grabbed her and smashed her into the ground. Then he crushed her underfoot like she was a cockroach before breathing his fiery breath of her.”
Again, they moved on, leaving Vail to giggle to himself. They met again around the next curve, his eyes were void, recalling the scene. No matter where Fleck went, he was always there, hounding them at every turn. “She was black all over. Crying her eyes out. Smelled like a well-done T-bone steak. Eventually, she got stuck on the bottom of his foot like a piece of chewing gum. So he pulled out a giant coin and scraped her off and threw her into an oversized trashcan. But… but… that bin was reserved for dog waste.” Further chuckling ensued, capped off with a longing sigh. “Oh man, it was a mess. Good times though.”