Ch. 1 - Lunch with a Madman
Chapter 1 - Lunch with a Madman
How did I get myself into this?
I was supposed to be meeting a friend to catch up over lunch that day. Instead, being the eccentric fellow he is, he decided to cancel the appointment five minutes before it started in favour of.. what was it again..? Whatever it was, he was still thoughtful enough let me know, though in hindsight, if my phone had been on silent, nothing out of the ordinary would have become of it that day.
"That's a nice Parasprite Polka ringtone you've got there."
The voice was smooth and as slick as oil, and more noticeably, right next to the ear my phone had just been raised to, making me jump and spin around in shock.
"Y- You watch My Little P-?!" I nearly squeaked in delight, but suddenly realised what I was about to say, and managed to tone down to a surprised hiss, before cutting off entirely when I saw who the voice had come from.
Standing before me was the most bizarre-looking individual I'd ever seen before. What was left of his white hair was frazzled all over his balding scalp. His face looked contorted, or twisted, as his sickly, yellow eyes didn't appear to be aligned horizontally, and his nose was somehow both pointed and crooked, giving it the comical appearance of an old witch's. His giddy smile was relatively normal, except for the one fang-like upper tooth that looked like it was twice the size of either one beside it. The most revolting thing adorned upon his mug however, was a dirty, white Chinese-villain moustache that was so weedy and dishevelled, it looked like it could come alive, wrap itself around and strangle the throat of a small animal, then laugh sadistically while it ate the corpse.
"You could say that, I suppose.." he replied, in a would-be calm tone, were it not for his squirming on the spot that suggested he was barely holding back a wave of euphoric excitement. Apparently some of that excitement slipped through, as he suddenly rounded on me. "Say," he started, eyes twinkling with an almost sinister delight. "Seeing how your friend decided to ditch you, might you and I have a talk over lunch instead? I'm sure you'd be more than happy to have someone to discuss those little cartoon horses with, no?"
Almost out of fear for what he might do should I refuse, I complied to sit down at a table with him outside a coffee shop across the road from where we were standing. While I slowly downed a double white-choc frappe, the old coot quizzed me on my thoughts and impressions on some aspects of the show, only to then rebuke them with his own backwards views on the matters.
After what must have been at least twenty minutes of back-and-forth debating, I was starting to get the impression that this guy thought everything that made sense was a façade. However, when he not only asked if I wanted to go to Equestria, but insisted with such certainty in his voice that he knew such a feat was possible, I couldn't help but humour him with a hearty chuckle.
"Go to Equestria?", I eventually broke out. "Pfft, yeah right."
"Exactly right! Right as chocolate rain, my dear boy!" He was still gleaming with excitement, and the prospect of sending me to another world seemed to be making him now shudder with giddiness.
I decided to go along with it; there was no harm in hearing one more of his delirious anecdotes, and besides, they were pretty hilarious.
"Okay, let's say that, hypothetically, you could send me to Equestria. How on Earth would you be able to do that?"
"Let's not get into semantics," he retorted, seemingly upset over the small hurdle I'd thrown at him. "Who cares how I do it, you'll be in Equestria! Isn't that enough reason to go?"
"I'll admit it, living in a fictional world ruled and populated by adorable ponies sounds like a dream come true, but, what about what the life I'd miss by leaving here? I've got it pretty good here: a job I like, friends I can.. well.. mostly depend on.." That part enticed a chuckle from both of us this time. "I mean, sure, it'd be nice, but I'd get anxious! People would notice I'm gone; they'd worry!"
"Then isn't it about time you stopped worrying about anyone, or about anyone worrying about you, or anyone worrying about you worrying about yourself? Why not," he said as he scratched his facial hair with a sharp, ungroomed fingernail, "Why not give yourself a holiday from all of this? Live for yourself! Break away from your - what did you say it was - secluded, boring life! Have some fun! Embrace a little.. chaos..."
I must have stared at him for a full minute, lost in consideration. ...If this guy's for real, then I must be the stupidest guy in the world..
"Okay."
"Okay? ...You mean that's it? Just, "Okay"..?"
"Sure, why not? A holiday sounds just peachy."
"Well, that's.. that's.. terrific!" He extended his grubby hand out for a handshake, though the floodgates holding in all that excitement had apparently opened fully, as his whole arm was shaking quite visibly already.
I didn't return the shake, I just stared at him, with as serious a face I could muster. Noticing my expression, he once again looked distraught, only this time his face betrayed a look of more annoyance than upset.
"What's in it for you?"
"Nothing!" he cried in uproar. "I'm just happy to see that someone gets to experience the place of their dreams! It's a change of pace and scenery! Come on!!"
Another moment's hesitation, and I decided. I slowly, cautiously, reached out to meet his handshake, neither of us breaking eye contact. All of a sudden, he lashed out and grabbed my hand, shaking it much more fiercely than what I thought him capable of. Even stranger than his sudden outburst was the eerie warmth that emanated from his palm. The impending rape face on that old man's mug would have been enough to send a crowd of small children running for their mothers. Yep. Definitely going to regret thi- He broke off the handshake as suddenly as he had started it, though his face remained unchanged.
Yet another moment passed in silence, this time out of confusion on my part.
"..That it?" I deadpanned.
"Well, you took more-or-less the same amount of convincing as some of the others, but yes, that's it. We're not done here yet though, are we?" he mused, gesturing to my nearly-finished frappe.
Touché. I glanced down, picked up the cup, and, as I swigged the remains, something he had just said clicked in my mind.
"Wait. Oth-ers...?" I began, but my voice drained away. I had looked back at the man sitting across the table from me, and seen that his spine-tingling grin had become a smirk of pure maniacal diabolicalness. His eyes were now glowing with that sickly yellow, and their centres gleaming a sinister red. With a snap of his fingers, I felt that same, eerie warmth touching my hand, only this time it was coming from the cup. The cup which was just filled with iced chocolate. The cup which was now growing at an alarming rate.
The last thing I heard was, "Sayonara!" as that old coot shot to his feet, grabbed the garbage-bin-sized cup, and slammed it down over my entire body. There was darkness, and all the sounds of the outside world suddenly were silenced.
I tried to scream, but there was no sound. I tried to struggle, but there was no resistance. There was nothing.
Nothing but the smell of fear and white chocolate.
