So, yes. I am telling you this post is more for storage purpose. You are welcome to go through my basement, but you are also welcome to not. So many disclaimers because, umm, it is rather long. Also, it doesnt have a title.
Has the Outside always been so pretty, John wondered as he lay lazily on a chair made for just that. He’d been trapped for weeks in the Inside of some "top secret project he cant tell you about". Today he had finally come out of it and decided to spend the day reacquainting himself with this world he inhabited. It had started well. The Sun and the blue sky he had taken in without much of a shock to his system. He’d then moved on to trees. He didn’t look particularly happy about their existence now. He couldn’t believe how lucky they were, being able to make food simply by standing in the sun. Why evolution had to give up that line of research to take on one that led to his 10 fingers with opposable thumbs he’d never understood. Hunger had been gnawing at his insides for over an hour but there was no way he could get himself out of his chair. And all those trees showing off were not really helping.
Wil looked under the bed for the three hundredth time. Nothing. Does anyone have such a clean under-bed anymore, he wondered sourly. He almost wanted a monster to be under it, with his script in its dirty yet non-salivating jaws. Because then he’d have something to do, an enemy to fight, a script to rescue, and in the end, a rehearsal to go prepared to, happily ever after. Now, all he could do was look at empty under-beds. Sure, yesterday’s gaming had been pretty wild, but he couldn’t believe the script, the script for tomorrow’s rehearsal, the script without which he’d just have to go there and be a pretty face, that script had been involved. He could imagine the producer’s icy tone. What is that you say? A big bird came and took your script? You could have respected us enough to make up something more imaginative. A crawling horse, a flying kitten, something? Yes, he had to find something.
And as it usually happens, when the right thing to do is not the fun thing to do, people run away to the land of excuses. The place where all excuses come from, brought to life by human need. To do something they shouldn’t. To get out of something. To beat common sense and responsibility and convention and accepted wisdom. To be. To not to be. Stock excuses, now those are easy. Most people can get them off the top of their head. Bad traffic, my alarm didn’t go off, the wife says no. It’s the creative excuses, handcrafted to fit your situation and none else that need to be worked on. For those you need to go deep into the land, finding little pieces that fit the big picture in your head, shaving this, sawing that, refining the big picture all the time till you end up with a piece of art. Art, now that is not formed by fitting lego blocks as per instructions. In the land, you will not find pieces that fit together. If that is what you want, the stock excuses department is that way, have a good day. But if you look at a piece hard enough, you can turn it into what you need. It is a dying art, this, one only people with some imagination and whimsy continue to practise.
John roamed the lands, his hunger forgotten in the excitement of all that was possible here. Strange things were all around him and he was having fun trying to see how each might work as an excuse. There were trees here too, but they didn’t look like they were taunting, they looked to be showing him possibilities. Somewhere in the murky recesses of John’s brain, an idea was born. It wasn’t even fully formed yet, and already he could see it had taken control and was changing him. He stood still, scared, not in a bad way but in an oh-my-god-is-this-really-happening-what-does-it-mean-i-haven't-even-thought-it-through-but-how-cool kind of way. He let a few minutes pass before he looked at his hands. Yes. Green. Chlorophyll-ed. He went and stood out in the sun. Food.
Wil closely examined the broken finger. Not his. He was fascinated by everything around him. He took in one thing at a time, sure that the whole picture would overwhelm him. Done with the finger, he looked around and saw the clown sweater. His clown sweater. His INFAMOUS clown sweater. He put it on. And smiled. The world seemed familiar again.
Wil then moved on to larger objects He found a Superman Cape hanging on a tree and put it on. It went really well with his clown sweater. He jumped from trees and ran really fast and in general was the Superman Wil aged ten would have been. Which is when he saw a pair of eyes looking at him from within a clump of bushes. "Here, here, come out," he tried. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if just a pair of eyes came out. The eyes stayed. He took his cape off and waved it around like a Matador. The eyes pounced.
It was on him, whatever it was. Cat? Wings?? Horn??? Start again, his brain said. And this time, no naming body parts. A cat. No, call it kitty, sounds cute and fuzzy and not at all like an evolution defying creature put together by hand. So, a kitty. And at the back... Pegasus. And that from a Unicorn. Recapitulate. Kitty. Pegasus. Unicorn. Kitty. Pegasus. Unicorn. Kitty... PuTTY! "Here PuTTY, here PuTTY". PuTTY, in the meantime, had been mooning over the clown in his sweater, purring and making other happy kitty noises.
It was the kitty John saw first. He was already smiling when he saw the clown on the sweater. He knew there was only one way that sweater could end.
"Hi Wil," he said, without looking up.
Eh?
Well, Wil didn't actually say Eh. But his face did. It rearranged itself into an Eh?
"It’s John." Eh? "Scalzi." Eh? "Velvet Wesley Crusher." Ah!
"John! What are you doing here? Did you see my kitty? Isn't it just the most amazing thing? Look at those magnificent wings. And horn! I'm calling it PuTTY...," Wil prattled on.
‘PuTTY’ was sitting on all fours, looking into the clown's eyes. John reached Wil and raised his hand for a high-five. Next thing he knew, the magnificent wings had come down and scooped Wil up in one graceful motion.
Wil was now sitting on PuTTY, face rearranged to spell EH???
"I come in peace," said John, lifting both his hands up.
"Green Peace!," exclaimed Wil and went back to an Eh?
John tried using his experience with cats to make friends with PuTTY. Granted, PuTTY wasnt exactly a cat, but 60 percent of it was, he knew nothing about horses and he had to start somewhere. John gathered some catnip leaves from nearby and gave them to PuTTY. PuTTY responded, which made Wil calm down a little. His brain finally got around to processing the message his eyes had been sending him for a while now.
"Umm.. John?"
"Yeah?" said John, who couldn’t take his eyes off PuTTY.
"You are green."
"Yeah," said John distractedly.
"Not exactly your colour, you know?," Wil tried again.
"Look," John said getting irritated. "Its about a little more than looking pretty, okay? Here, let me show you," he said and walked towards a patch of sunlight. "Thats all i have to do for food. For the rest of my life. Stand. Chlorophyll-me up, baby! Millions of years ago, two roads diverged in the woods that day," he thundered, "and today they meet in me."
"ZOMG! They will have to create a whole new position for you in the food chain! Wait, will it still be a chain? Cycle! Tree?" Wil wondered, as the implications of what he was seeing hit him. "John?"
"Something’s wrong," growled John. "I don’t feel full." "Ears," squeaked Wil. John felt them and realized they had grown. Pointy. Lumps were sprouting all over his body. "Greenskin," he croaked, before falling over in pain. This tended to happen with improbable excuses. They decayed to the nearest stable state - something that required minimum suspension of disbelief.
Wil’s brain had had enough. Had too much, in fact. So it decided to forget what it knew and start from scratch. Take what it could see as given and work from there. So, John was turning into an Orc. Okay. What do i know about Orcs? Oooh, what do i not know! Here was familiar ground. Here was where the What kind of a Orc are You quiz he’d scribbled on the back of his script would save lives. Orcs came in all shapes and sizes and most importantly, attitudes. Dealing with them depended entirely on which mythology they subscribed to.
"John? Are you in there? Listen! I’m going to get you out of this. Joooohn!" he screamed, as John (or Orc?) got up with a roar that startled PuTTY who jumped and up went Wil. John had made considerable progress towards Orcdom and had acquired an armour, a spear and the above mentioned roar. Orc was marching towards him slowly, fighting with John for each step. Wil shouted out his first question. "Would you like to eat me?"
John knew his share in John/Orc was shrinking. The power of Orc was overwhelming; all he wanted to was to give in. Focus, he told himself. Focus on something that’ll remind you that you are human, that there is good in you. He saw the horn on PuTTY. Thats it! What was better than a Unicorn horn to remind you of being noble and good? Orc meanwhile had reached a very similar conclusion for very different reasons. John and Orc march as one.
Wil noticed the increase in speed. "JOHN," he yelled out. PuTTY meanwhile had prepared itself for battle. And also, apparently, him. Wil found himself with a spear in his hands. Desperate, Wil yelled out his second question. "Whats you favourite colour?"
John/Orc had almost reached PuTTY. Already, John felt clearer, more focused. All i need is that horn, he thought. PuTTY had given up all pretensions of being a soft kitty. It hissed and spat. Its eyes shone with a manic glow. John/Orc charged. Kitty sprang. Wil aimed his spear at the Orc’s arm and yelled out his third question. "Does this hurt?"
Somewhere, a Volcano let go.
Wil opened an eye. Nothing green or dead. Encouraged, he opened another. He saw the ground rushing beneath him. Realized he was still on PuTTY but no longer trapped by its wings. He let go. Fell off PuTTY and rolled harmlessly into a clump of grass. Opened eyes. One. Two. Saw John/Orc standing over him. Screamed and ran. Or tried to.
"Stop," said John. John. Not John/Orc. John.
Wil turned back. John. Not green. Close. Open. Still John. Not green. Breathed.
"What happened?" he asked. "Looks like PuTTY found another toy at just the right second," said John, nodding in the direction of the volcano. And there it was, flying just above the lava, dipping its horn in it, making pretty designs and in general back to being a kitty. "And you?" "I managed to hold on to PuTTY’s horn for a second before it got distracted by the volcano," said John. "Turns out that was enough." The two friends slapped each other on the back, did a little jig and left. They didn’t say good bye to the land. They’d be back. They’d been there before.
John was full. Hell, if he had been an Orc... okay, too early for Orc jokes. Wil had fed him till he was ready to burst. Wil cleared his throat. John knew what was coming.
"Yes, Wil?"
"Will you be my excuse for tomorrow’s rehearsal?"
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