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My penis is Satan.
Not literally, obviously, but it might as well be. For all the suffering it’s caused me since the ‘joy’ of puberty started nut-punching my life, I’m pretty sure that mini me is pure evil. Just picturing him now with horns, and a pitchfork.
And a little red hat.
Anyway, sorry if you thought that I was going to say something epic and cool. You know, something really profound that encapsulates my magnificence, or something like that instead of just rambling about my pocket sausage. Actually, I look pretty stupid with old banana peels draped over my forehead like a horrifying fruit condom (that’s a mental image that’ll be popping into your head just before you fall asleep, you’re welcome) and I smelled like garbage when I decided that I might be better off without my junk. I was also kind of terrified out of my wits, so you can understand that I am never going anywhere without Leopold Junior.
For the record, my name isn’t actually Leopold, that’s just the pet name for… well, Leopold Junior. No, my name is Sam. Go ahead and get the ‘haw haw Sam that’s a girl’s name’ bull out of the way now, because I’ve got a story to tell you.
As for precisely how I came to be coated in garbage is kind of messed up in and of itself, but that’s not important. I think for you to understand just why I was cramped up in a garbage chute in the first place, I’d have to start from the beginning…
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Brooklyn is a pretty big place if you don’t know where you’re going; that’s where the subways come in handy. I usually take one instead of walking. Not that I’m particularly lazy or anything, I just really like trains and subways. Always have, I guess. It’s mostly the energy in the air from so many people, the weight and power of the locomotives that drew me in. Really reminds me of certain transforming machinery cartoons that I blew too much of the first half of my life on.
I don’t care, Optimus Prime is still awesome.
It kills me that it all had to happen the day after my fifteenth birthday, too. That Thursday had to have been one of the most uneventful of my entire life, by the way. But besides that, at least if it had happened on the day I was shoved out of my mom, I could claim that it was something really epic or destined, or something. But, no. It had to have been the day after, when I was riding the subway back from the park to go home.
I probably should have realized it when I first got on the subway train. I feel like a real idiot for it now, but at the time, my mind was elsewhere.
And by ‘elsewhere’, I mean on the girl I saw at the park.
If I had to describe her in one word, it would be ‘dayum’, or something equally inadequate. Naturally, instead of actually talking to her like I had a pair, I did what any rational person would do and just stared and gawked like a freakin’ chimpanzee.
I don’t think I left a great impression.
I might not have even spotted her if it hadn’t been for her ridiculously bright red hair dye. I know it sounds kind of stupid, but as a natural ginger, I think I can safely say that absolutely nobody likes red hair. There was this one time that I got busted trying to dye my hair black, and dad laughed his ass off when I somehow turned it blue. I kind of just stuck with ginger after that.
I was kind of wrapped up in myself when I was lucky enough to find an empty seat, just listening to the sound of the subway. I don’t know how far I went before it struck me.
I was listening to the sound of the train because there wasn’t any other noise.
Let me tell you, that was just about one of the most (up until this point, I mean, it gets a lot worse later on) jarring moments I had ever experienced. I mean, I spent most of my life completely surrounded by people, and when you’re in a place like Brooklyn, you’re pretty much never just alone. And I’m not talking about that one cabin, either, I checked out the others. Every single one of them was empty, all bathed in a dim, flickering fluorescent light.
I’m not a genius, ask my math teacher, but I think it was one of my dumber moves to start freaking the hell out. I watch too much television, and by that, I mean that I’ve seen way too many cheesy horror movies. I know it sounds stupid, but at the time, I was more than a little worried that I was going to be that one guy that gets offed right when he doesn’t expect it.
And by that, I mean that I was clinging to my seat and whimpering like a little bitch.
Hey, you try acting brave and all when you think you’re about to get stabbed by a psychotic ghost-murderer!
The train actually came to a stop, and although I was grateful to get off, I also couldn’t help but note that it felt like we (or I, really) had stopped early. Again, completely deserted station. Just more empty grey halls with fluorescent lighting.
I really started hating horror movies right about then.
Since I didn’t really want to get back on the train (it was creepy enough), I started toward the exit up a flight of concrete stairs – only instead of warm, comforting sunlight, I found another concrete hallway. That was disconcerting enough in itself, as I was definitely at the same station that I always got off from; it’s pretty close to the apartments me and my dad stay at, and there weren’t supposed to be more hallways. There were no more stairs upwards after that, just… a hallway. A lot of them doorways were set in it, so far down that I couldn’t even see the back wall.
Pretty certain that I was either high or drugged by this point, I tried checking out a couple of the doorways.
As it turned out, this was also one of my dumber moves. Guess what I saw?
Yeah. More hallways.
It wasn’t until that point that I really and truly started freaking out, although you’d think that I would have completely flipped before that point. I don’t know how I lasted that long without freaking out already, though I guess it was just the shock of trying to comprehend something that I didn’t really understand at the time. It must have been something about seeing those numberless, endless dim grey hallways that sent me tumbling over the edge.
Did I mention that by turning back and only finding more hallways instead of stairs, I nearly started peeing myself in terror?
Picture that, just for a moment. Completely alone for no apparent reason, the everything dim and grey (and quiet, deafeningly so) and just when you think it can’t get any weirder, the laws of physics start getting defied and all that makes for a very unhappy Sammy.
I think I ran down the hallway for a while, but to be completely honest, I’m not really sure that I did. I mean, I knew that I went in a direction, but there were no markers of any kind, absolutely everything looked the same. Hallways, hallways, hallways. I was coated in sweat and out of breath when I finally stopped against the cool concrete wall, shaking and struggling to catch my breath, I didn’t immediately realize that I was being watched.
Because believe me, if I did, I’d probably have dropped a brick.
I took my time in letting my pounding heart rate go down, my heavy breathing sounding oddly muffled for a place so empty.
“Done yet?”
Goddammit I should have used the restroom before getting on the subway.
“Jesu Christi!” I totally didn’t scream like a little girl and trip over my own shoes in a panic to get away from whoever had spoken behind me. I also like to pretend that I didn’t whack my chin on the floor and then roll away like an idiot. Not fast rolling, either. I’m a little bigger than most of the other guys in my class, in that I probably could have made the football team if I had actually tried out for it instead of turning into a couch potato. Just imagine a big human sized burrito flopping around in terror, and you’ll understand what I looked like.
“Now are you done?” the… thing cocked an eyebrow at me from one of the endless hallways, and I scrabbled back against a wall to stare at it. I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as freaky looking as that… well, I want to call it a guy. He had the voice of a normal guy, kind of scratchy but deep enough that you wouldn’t expect it. He was more of a Frankenstein-esque mishmash of animal parts rather than anything else. I saw an antler, a horn, parts of a lion, what might have been eagle, hoof, paw, different wings – just looking at this thing gave me a headache.
It took me nearly a full minute to finally quit staring (which I’m actually quite good at, if you remember) before I eventually figured out that the… weird thing was expecting a reply.
“… Hi?” I tried to speak, but it only came out in a meek squawk. “Did I get on the wrong subway again?”
I have no idea why it disturbed me so much to see that thing laugh. Maybe it was the way all the body parts seemed to shake when he did so, like they were all screaming to pull away from each other.
“Subway?” he chortled good naturedly, extending fully out of one of the hallways and beginning to float haphazardly upward into the air. “My, my. Is that really where you think you are?”
“No, I thought this was the deli,” I answered automatically. “I was looking for the pastrami, but I didn’t see any. It’s not for me, I don’t even like pastrami. That’s a really weird word when you think about it, but then again, so is subway. I had a subway pastrami, it was terrible,” I blurted without hardly breathing.
Did I mention that I’m an idiot?
My dad has the exact opposite problem. Whenever he gets upset or riled up you can tell almost right away, because he gets really quiet. Me, on the other hand? Whenever I get scared, I get chatty. It’s mostly a reflex because I tend to get even more awkward if I know that someone can tell I’m scared, and then things just tend to spout out of my face hole in succession until I can remove myself from the situation. In short, Sam plus scary shit equals Sam jabbering like a twitchy moron.
“You certainly are a talkative one,” Floating Guy said with what I think was mild disinterest. He pulled out a little orange bag from who knows where, just snacking on chips while staring at me like I was part of some show. I swear to god, just staring at me and crunching on chips has never been quite so unsettling.
“Oh, yeah, you know me,” I blathered. “Talky ass Sam, jibber jabber jibber jabber. Say, where’s the exit?”
If I sounded calm, believe me, it really wasn’t on purpose. At the time, all I wanted to do was start running again, but the wickedly sharp looking tooth hanging out of this guy’s mouth and the weirdly predatory gaze he was giving me with those misshapen eyes pretty much demolished any ideas of fleeing right off the bat.
“Why, it’s right over there!” the Frankenstein’s monster knockoff gleefully pointed in about seven different directions all at once. I think it was that point that I started to question whether or not the guy was just screwing with me.
“… Just, uh… just any of those directions will get me back out and home?”
Crunch.
“Out? Certainly,” he snorted. “Home? That depends on your definition. Besides, I can’t imagine why you’d want to just throw it away.”
“Throw what away now?”
Just for the record, I seriously did not care at all what he had to say. It was more of the ‘talk until I get away’ shtick, because even though I’m not claustrophobic, I was really starting to feel like those big empty halls were getting smaller and smaller. I wanted out of there, dammit.
“Why, your one wish, of course.”
Crunch.
That kind of caught my attention, both what he said and how he said it. He made it sound as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, like I was already supposed to know it. It was seriously distracting.
“Uh… one wish, huh?” I shifted awkwardly, suddenly aware that I was still sitting on my rump against the wall before standing up straight. “Like… are you some kind of genie?”
“Genie? Me?” the mixed bag of animal parts asked innocently, placing a paw on his chest. “Oh, good gracious, no. No, I’m just here to have a little fun.”
Again, strongly reminded of serial killer slasher movies with that one comment.
I was half torn between wishing to go home and (stupidly enough) wishing for differently colored hair. In my defense, absolutely nobody should be expected to make a wish when they’re panic addled brain is pumping in overdrive from terror and confusion. It’s not good.
What with him telling me that I could take anyway to leave (stupid) and being a moronic, hormonal teenager (stupid, stupid) that I am, can you guess what my one – ONE – wish was? You know, instead of wishing that I had never met that (stupid, stupid, stupid!) psychotic freak?
“Can you make me sexually irresistible?”
… Crunch.
Fucking brilliant.
I swear, if I could go back in time and choke myself to death to prevent those words from ever leaving my lips, I would totally break the space-time continuum just to do it. I have never, ever regretted anything quite so much as those six stupid, stupid words any more than ‘that dress makes you look fat’.
And there was no warning or anything, either. No ‘are you sure?’ or ‘is that your final answer?’ or anything like that. Nothing flashy at all, really. I didn’t look any different, not that I know of. I didn’t feel any different.
The creature snapped it’s fingers (talons?) together almost instantly.
“Done,” he grinned. “Off you trot, now!”
I kind of stared at him for about four seconds, my (stupid) teenage brain still struggling with it because I was obviously dropped on my head as a child. Sorry, I’m still angry at myself for that, too.
“Uh… any of these go-go out, right?” I asked uncomfortably, which is understandable. I mean, how would you look at somebody who just asked to be sexually irresistible? I like to pretend that I wasn’t starting to blush or anything, but I’m pretty sure I started turning a little red.
“Actually,” Chip Guy shrugged, tossing the bag to me. I was kind of surprised that I caught it, as it was about half empty. “The terms for human wish fulfillment have already been completed. I give you what you want, now you give me something in return.”
I held the bag of chips back out at him.
For some reason, he seemed to find this absolutely hilarious.
“Ah, no, that’s not quite what I meant,” he chuckled, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “No, little boy, a wish is something that humans are supposed to value very, very highly. I want something of high value in return.”
“I have seventeen dollars,” I replied automatically. “Also a quarter and an i-Phone knockoff. Want to just take your wish back?” I asked, and I really wish that I had just darted off down one of those hallways. I don’t really know if one of them would have lead home or not, but either way, it might have gotten me away from him. Although knowing what I do now, it probably wouldn’t have.
“No, no. I want your soul.”
Slasher movie flashbacks, slasher movie flashbacks, slasher movie flashbacks!
See, it was that point that I tried to run. I didn’t even have my foot off the ground before the rest of me was off the ground, held up like an insect in one of Chip Guy’s hands. It was all in one fluid motion, too; it might have taken maybe, maybe three seconds for him to slap his free hand on my chest, for me to feel something… draining out of me, kind of like when you get blood drawn. And then finally, for him to drop me.
Unfortunately, I didn’t hit the floor.
Oh, I landed on the floor, all right. I kept on going, though.
Remember what I said about the laws of physics not being obeyed?
Right when I passed through the floor and I was still staring up at that thing in confusion and horror (and indignity, kind of – I mean, he just picked me up like I was nothing, and I’m not small at all) I swear I saw him burst apart into a load of color.
That, or my brain imploded. It might have been one or the other.
For what felt like eternity, it was silent and dark.
I almost wondered if I’d died, but from the fact that after about five minutes of straight falling and still being pretty sure that I wasn’t dead, I started to twist around midair to see if I could spot any light.
I didn’t, coincidentally. I was completely unprepared for what happened afterwards, as per usual.
No sooner had I begun to resign myself to my fate than I, quite literally, exploded out of the air.
I shot out horizontally like a bullet, suddenly blinded by whirring light and color. The introduction of a ton of noise didn’t help, and I slammed right into something soft and distinctly not-floor, which was really nice. Well, nicer than being slammed into the floor, I mean. Whoever or whatever I rammed into dropped like a sack of bricks, sending us both tumbling over tables and chairs alike.
I took the first opportunity I could to scramble woozily to my feet, wide eyed and shaking like a leaf in the wind.
Did I mention that all the noise that I first heard stopped shortly after I became the main attraction of the party?
I was definitely at a party, that was for sure. It was dead silent, too, even though there were about a hundred people all around. And I say people, but I mean ponies. I am not even kidding.
Colored, wide eyed, partially dressed ponies. Dozens upon dozens of them, standing around like they were people and just gawking at me as I stood over the pink one that I had just unceremoniously ‘bumped’ into. I didn’t know whether or not it was dead, but it sure wasn’t moving. There were some pretty tall crystalline support columns decorated with all sorts of streamers, and seeing that even the walls and floor were made of crystal made me even gladder that I didn’t hit them.
Subconsciously, I mean. Consciously, I was pretty much only concerned with the fact that about nine or ten armored ponies started tramping toward me with freaking spears, at which point the commotion and panicking of the rest of them began. The miniature battalion was led by a really angry looking white unicorn – a flipping unicorn – who looked about as pissed as any person I could imagine would. This guy was levitating three spears over his head and pointing them all directly at me, and he was backed up by the rest of them.
Keep in mind, this all went down within a span of seconds. I should be given credit for not curling up in the fetal position and rocking myself back and forth like I really, really wanted to. I was panicked, I was confused, I was… pretty much any excuse I can think of to make me seem like less of a jerk for what I did next, because it was awfully damned cowardly. But then again, if it saved my own skin…
I snagged the pink pony by the hair of the head (mane? I guess?) and held her up in front of me, whipping my phone out of my pocket and jabbing it against her neck.
“Back!” I shouted in a voice that was definitely a couple of pitches higher than I intended. “Back, I’ve got a weapon! Sort of! I mean, I’m-I’m armed, don’t make me use this!”
I was blurting out about every single clichéd, stupid line from every hostage situation I’d ever seen in any movie ever, desperately hoping that this pink one (was that a tiara I was stepping on?) was worth just enough that I wouldn’t get pumped full of spearheads.
“Back!” I screamed again, dragging the surprisingly light pink shield with me as I pulled away from them, careful to keep the phone right on her neck. Hell, I didn’t even know if they could understand me, but they seemed to think that the phone was dangerous, and I wasn’t giving up my only illusion. “Back, you primitive screwheads! All of you, back down, or-or-or she’ll get it, she’ll get it all right!”
I could have laughed at my own pathetic threat, if I could.
For one, it was a damned phone. The most damage that thing had ever done was when I dropped it on my toe. Secondly, I don’t think I really could have killed anybody in a hostage situation or not, animal or not, one way or another. I mean, seriously. That’s horrible.
And thirdly, I sounded about as convincing as a kitten trying to scare away a bulldog. I’ll admit, I was about as irrational as I had ever been at that point. Can you really blame me?
“I-I want a helicopter,” I started rambling, backing away toward what I hoped was a wall. A couple of ponies holding trays had already scooted far away from potential spearing distance, but there was what looked like a chute set in one of the walls. From the massive and opulent dining area I had crash landed in, I guessed that it was a garbage chute; and since that seemed to be the only viable way out aside from through the very sharp looking spears, I started dragging the pony with me toward it. “And I want that helicopter within the next five minutes,” I blathered on. “Passports! Passport to Maui, and-and-and-”
I must not have kept up my ‘threatening’ appearance, because the white unicorn spearheading the others started toward me at a startling speed. You obviously know where this is going.
Like the genius that I am, I panicked and hurtled myself, along with the pony that I was still desperately clinging to, right down the damned garbage chute.
“Son of a bitch!”
Huh. As it turned out, they spoke English.
That didn’t really seem so weird as everything else that happened, oddly enough.
In fact, compared to what I was about to go through, it seemed downright normal in contrast.
Half of which involved taking off my pants, but I’ll get to that after the part after I dig myself out of a pile of garbage. A strangely fitting metaphor for my life, I think.
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