KRSplat
Feb 18, 2008, 01:49 PM
Same premise as the last thing I posted here, and again, unrelated to JJ. Hope it's enjoyable.
There was a large box in my living room. I wasn't supposed to open it. But it was MY living room. Nobody else even had the keys to the house, other than my wife, who was vacationing with my kids. And they had just called from their hotel last night. So how did the box even get there? And who left the note saying not to open it? Santa Claus? Whatever, screw Santa. I have the guts to open a box that appeared mysteriously in my own living room, especially if it was put there by an imaginary fat, old, trespassing, badly-dressed, man who genetically engineers reindeer for exploitation and has a fetish for the vertically challenged. It was July, anyway.
I took a butter knife and ripped through the duct tape. Between the cardboard flaps was an elevator. Out from the elevator came a man. “I'm Fred,” he said. “Do you want to go up or down?”
I stared. “I'd prefer to take the stairs, thank you.” Time to pinch myself? Not yet, I decided.
“What stairs?” He grinned, and we looked to the right, where we saw a stone wall. Five minutes ago, there had been a staircase there. I turned back to Fred.
“So what's going on?”
“You and I have places to go. We're going to have fun, my friend.” He gave me a creepy smile and motioned for me to step into the elevator. Despite my rationality, I entered, like a curious child. “We're going up,” he told me.
“Wait a moment,” I said. This time, I really did pinch myself—nothing. Too late to turn back now, though. “Alright,” I nodded at him. From a seemingly endless array of buttons, he selected “4” with a crooked pinkie finger. We rose, and I closed my eyes and waited anxiously.
On the fourth floor was a magical garden with dirt paths and flowers the size of mountains with petals of every color on the rainbow and hills covered with grass greener than any green I've ever seen and a pink unicorn grazing gently off to the left near a thick forest. The sun smiled invitingly at me from above and returned to its conversation with the moon. I took a step down the dirt path and a dog jumped in my way. It yapped at me. Where had Fred gone, I realized? I looked down at the dog, and it barked again. It seemed to want me to follow it, and I did so gladly.
It led me off the path in the direction of the forest. A butterfly landed on my shoulder for a rest, and I stopped and waved to the unicorn before passing it. A baby unicorn revealed itself from behind the mother. It trotted to me, and looked back at its mother for approval. Its mother gave a “scree” and nodded, and the baby unicorn joyfully became my latest companion.
We continued to follow the dog's lead into and through the dark woods, as a crowd of animals, ranging from a tiny white mouse to a gang of two raccoons to a grizzly bear cub, joined our wandering party. Our adventure came to an end at a large tree made of white powder. I looked at the dog, and—
“I wanted to show you this. I'm Fred,” said the dog. “This is the real me.” I listened, not in shock, but with a sense of new understanding. “We are in Sugar Tree Forest, and this is the Sugar Tree. Have a bite of its fruit.” Without any questions, I reached for a piece of fruit and bit into it. This blissful fruit immediately sent the world I had visited rushing away from me, and I saw a blackness that reminiscent of the loneliest corner of outer space. But the taste of the fruit: it was more than overwhelming. Its flavor transcended the boundaries of the tongue. It possessed me, and so I possessed it. I felt it; in my toes, my stomach, my brain, my heart I felt the tingle. The music of the sugarfruit crept up on me, playing louder and louder, until I was listening to it intently, and it was a beautiful song. And then my vision returned to me; I saw the fantastic meadow once more, only this time from an overhead view. I soared over the land and got a glimpse of the forest, then past that, a sparkling royal blue ocean, contrasted by golden-brown beaches and fuschia starfish, the gumdrop valleys and purple mountain majesties indeed. All of the while heavenly sounds filled my ears and the infinite taste drowned my mouth and nose. Until the sensory overload caused the wonderful virus that had temporarily assumed control over my bodily systems to come to a horribly abrupt crash, and I snapped back to my living room.
It was bittersweet; I was disappointed that it had come to an end, but at the same time it was immensely satisfying. I looked around, and to my great surprise, the mysterious elevator was still there! Fred's voice echoed in my head. “And that was only your first floor.”
There was a large box in my living room. I wasn't supposed to open it. But it was MY living room. Nobody else even had the keys to the house, other than my wife, who was vacationing with my kids. And they had just called from their hotel last night. So how did the box even get there? And who left the note saying not to open it? Santa Claus? Whatever, screw Santa. I have the guts to open a box that appeared mysteriously in my own living room, especially if it was put there by an imaginary fat, old, trespassing, badly-dressed, man who genetically engineers reindeer for exploitation and has a fetish for the vertically challenged. It was July, anyway.
I took a butter knife and ripped through the duct tape. Between the cardboard flaps was an elevator. Out from the elevator came a man. “I'm Fred,” he said. “Do you want to go up or down?”
I stared. “I'd prefer to take the stairs, thank you.” Time to pinch myself? Not yet, I decided.
“What stairs?” He grinned, and we looked to the right, where we saw a stone wall. Five minutes ago, there had been a staircase there. I turned back to Fred.
“So what's going on?”
“You and I have places to go. We're going to have fun, my friend.” He gave me a creepy smile and motioned for me to step into the elevator. Despite my rationality, I entered, like a curious child. “We're going up,” he told me.
“Wait a moment,” I said. This time, I really did pinch myself—nothing. Too late to turn back now, though. “Alright,” I nodded at him. From a seemingly endless array of buttons, he selected “4” with a crooked pinkie finger. We rose, and I closed my eyes and waited anxiously.
On the fourth floor was a magical garden with dirt paths and flowers the size of mountains with petals of every color on the rainbow and hills covered with grass greener than any green I've ever seen and a pink unicorn grazing gently off to the left near a thick forest. The sun smiled invitingly at me from above and returned to its conversation with the moon. I took a step down the dirt path and a dog jumped in my way. It yapped at me. Where had Fred gone, I realized? I looked down at the dog, and it barked again. It seemed to want me to follow it, and I did so gladly.
It led me off the path in the direction of the forest. A butterfly landed on my shoulder for a rest, and I stopped and waved to the unicorn before passing it. A baby unicorn revealed itself from behind the mother. It trotted to me, and looked back at its mother for approval. Its mother gave a “scree” and nodded, and the baby unicorn joyfully became my latest companion.
We continued to follow the dog's lead into and through the dark woods, as a crowd of animals, ranging from a tiny white mouse to a gang of two raccoons to a grizzly bear cub, joined our wandering party. Our adventure came to an end at a large tree made of white powder. I looked at the dog, and—
“I wanted to show you this. I'm Fred,” said the dog. “This is the real me.” I listened, not in shock, but with a sense of new understanding. “We are in Sugar Tree Forest, and this is the Sugar Tree. Have a bite of its fruit.” Without any questions, I reached for a piece of fruit and bit into it. This blissful fruit immediately sent the world I had visited rushing away from me, and I saw a blackness that reminiscent of the loneliest corner of outer space. But the taste of the fruit: it was more than overwhelming. Its flavor transcended the boundaries of the tongue. It possessed me, and so I possessed it. I felt it; in my toes, my stomach, my brain, my heart I felt the tingle. The music of the sugarfruit crept up on me, playing louder and louder, until I was listening to it intently, and it was a beautiful song. And then my vision returned to me; I saw the fantastic meadow once more, only this time from an overhead view. I soared over the land and got a glimpse of the forest, then past that, a sparkling royal blue ocean, contrasted by golden-brown beaches and fuschia starfish, the gumdrop valleys and purple mountain majesties indeed. All of the while heavenly sounds filled my ears and the infinite taste drowned my mouth and nose. Until the sensory overload caused the wonderful virus that had temporarily assumed control over my bodily systems to come to a horribly abrupt crash, and I snapped back to my living room.
It was bittersweet; I was disappointed that it had come to an end, but at the same time it was immensely satisfying. I looked around, and to my great surprise, the mysterious elevator was still there! Fred's voice echoed in my head. “And that was only your first floor.”