The carnage was insane. Oil slicked water tinged red with what Bugle thought might be blood streamed, pooled, dripped across the ground. Everywhere he looked it was: debris, rubble, cement, is that an arm?, window glass, office supplies, etc. On and on and on, nothing went untouched.
Despite Benzo’s words, he couldn’t help but call out “Hello” every so often. A fire hydrant hissed in reply. The further he went, the more futile it felt. No sign of life remained.
The ache in his head pounded away, feeling like a tiny monkey with two cymbals was playing its own little orchestra in there.
What was that smell?
It reminded him of that time he dropped his half open Slim Jim on the dashboard of his car and then slammed on his brakes to avoid a soccer mom minivan that randomly stopped in the middle of the road. Slim Jim went right into the vent. For months his car was filled with an acrid scent of burning plastic and cooking mystery meat. Whatever was in the air, it smelled just like that.
“Okay,” he said aloud, looking left and right.
To his left: unidentifiable crater, smooth edged, sidewalk intact but no recognizable sign or decoration to tell what from what.
To his right: smoldering craters that looked like three meteors had been playing tic-tac-toe.
He spotted a downed billboard sign ahead: ‘You May Be Entitled To Compensation: Call JK Attorneys!’
“Aha!” Bugle said with excitement, finally recognizing something. He’d passed that sign everyday on his way to work.
Now, certain he was on Front Street, he headed toward the sign. In all directions, nothing stood above a few feet, and what stood was a crumbling carcass of construction. Talk about it being hard to see the trees for the forest. Every time he tried to focus on where he might be, his eyes landed on the larger details. I.E; the newfound craters, creaking and unstable remains of buildings, geysering water, and the raging fires still burning.
“Bugle, wait!”
Oh no.
He did not wait. As fast as his wobbly, unsteady legs could go, Bugle sped off at a brisk walk, feeling like those horrible nineties aerobics exercises. Arms pumping, knees to chest, sashay, sashay. All he needed was a leotard.
“Bugle,” Benzo called.
Left foot, right foot, over a door, left foot, under part of a roof, right foot, around the billboard, left foot …
“Bugle!”
Under a collapsed wall, right foot, through an ironically fallen doorframe, left foot …
----------------------------------------
function stopEverything() {
// Benzomyazapan commands you to halt!
console.log("Freeze protocol activated: All systems paused.");
while (true) { /* Eternal wait */ }
}
stopEverything();
----------------------------------------
Everything froze—Bugle’s right foot in midair, the streaming fire hydrant, the fires—everything, except Benzo, who he could hear approaching from behind. Horrified, Bugle tried to yell in frustration. Nothing. No sound. Straining internally, feeling like he’d pop a blood vessel or shit himself, Bugle stood there, foot raised, eyes locked
The ground shook beneath Benzo’s angry stomping steps.
Horrified, Bugle could only stay there, suspended in time, as the purple alien man stormed to him.
“My B,” Benzo said. “Couldn’t let you bounce.”
Dying inside, Bugle wished his ears were frozen too. He tried to convey a glare in his unmoving eyes.
“Oh, here,” Benzo said, and then Bugle’s eyes and mouth were free.
Blinking rapidly, Bugle sucked in a breath.
“What the hell? I do not consent to this!” he said shrilly.
Looking more put out than he had any right to be, Benzo crossed his arms petulantly.
“You’re making this way more complicated than it has to be,” Benzo complained.
“More complicated?” Benzo shrieked. It was an odd feeling to feel hysterical without moving at all. “The whole world’s been torpedoed by space, and you think I’M making it ‘more’ complicated.”
“Look, let’s just start over!” Benzo said cajolingly. He reached out, laying a hand on Bugle’s shoulder. “I’m Benzomyazapan, a Genie from Clitarium.”
Unable to move, only to think, Bugle forced himself to calm, to really digest those words.
“Like, ‘wish for things’ genie?”
Eyes wide with excitement Benzo’s lips quivered.
“Yes, exactly! You’ve heard of us?”
“I wish to be free!” he shouted loudly, ignoring how it made his head feel like it’d split open any second.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
He was not free. No, not at all. Still stuck with foot posed in midair.
Glowering at the purple man, Bugle felt idiotic for believing that would work.
Benzo patted his shoulder consolingly.
“Sorry, it doesn’t work like that,” he said, soothingly.
“Feels like you just scammed me,” Bugle grumbled.
“There are terms and conditions that come with my wish granting capabilities,” Benzo admitted, slowly and shamefacedly.
“Terms and conditions… Oh, of course. Don’t put me on hold, customer service agent,” Bugle said scathingly.
“Yes. To be able to grant wishes I must first be accepted into one’s party. Then, my quest must be accepted for me to be able to utilize my skills in accordance with your will!”
“You’re hosting a party at the end of the world? That’s…seriously not cool man.”
Benzo sighed heavily.
“A party is a group of people who work together. Not a beer-pong kind of party,” he explained.
“Oh. Wow. Feels like you’re going to bring up one of those games like W&D? We going to spin the dice for XP?”
Benzo’s face twisted in horror at his utter lack of even the simplest pop culture comprehension of video games.
“If you had played even one real game…this would be much easier to discuss.”
“If you had brought back to life the right person, this wouldn’t be happening,” Bugle reminded him smugly.
A thought occurred to him.
“Can’t you just swap us out? Bring the right Harold Jenkins back, send me outta this hellhole?”
A guilty look crept across Benzo’s face. Suspicious alarms sounded in Bugle’s ears.
“What?”
“I am currently unable to conduct anymore resurrections at this time…”
Of course not. That would make too much sense. A magical genie alien who can’t use his magic. Bugle laughed at the absurdity.
“Oh. Hit me with your sob story,” he said dryly.
Benzo nodded, grim faced.
“In the spirit of honesty… technically, I’m not authorized to be here. My license was temporarily revoked,” he said very quickly, rushing through it. Changing to a more reassuring tone he added, “This was supposed to be my redemption arc! I had the whole plan memorized. In the nine million-nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and nine times I ran the simulation: Harold Jenkins and I successfully saved Earth from the Lord of All!”
“That doesn’t explain why you can’t do any magical revivals anymore?”
“It’s not magic, it’s stardust manipulation of the basic elements,” Benzo corrected snootily.
Bugle’s eyes rolled so hard they felt as if they did a full circle.
“Again, my last point.”
“Due to a situation totally out of my control—”
“A magical genie alien who can do stardust manipulation of the basic elements has situations out of his control?” Bugle muttered sarcastically mimicking Benzo’s voice.
Benzo continued talking over him.
“— my license was seized. Without my license I am unable to refill my Soul-o-meter. I had only one soul revival left in the tank when I left Clitarium. There was a point zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero one percent chance of error. Again, due to a very simple mistake, you and I are stuck together on this quest, Har—Bugle Jenkins.”
“Simple mistake my ass!”
Silence fell between them and Bugle felt like he was going to implode if he didn’t get released.
“So, can I get let go now?”
Benzo sighed.
Be as it was.
That simply, everything returned to normal. The hydrant splattered, Bugle’s leg came down, and the billboard behind him collapsed in a scream of scraping metal. Fresh dust plumed around them.
Mouth twisting in contemplation, Bugle stared at the purple man in disbelief.
“Wasn’t that magic you just did?” he asked, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Again. It’s stardust manipulation of—”
“—the basic elements, yeah yeah, magic to my eyes.”
Huffing, Benzo said, “Then yes, to your perspective it must seem like magic. My normal abilities are not impacted. Only my ability to revive.”
“And, if we have a party together? I get access to your wishes?”
A sly look crossed Benzo’s face that set off all sorts of warning bells in Bugle’s head. Or maybe it was the headache. It was getting hard to tell them apart.
“Uh, yes. Here…”
In Bugle’s field of vision a box popped up, overlayed atop his vision. He blinked, startled, clutching his head with his hands. The pictures were so bright and vibrant.
----------------------------------------
> 🧔♂️ Bugle Jenkins 👾 Benzomyazapan
>
> Benzomyazapan wants to join your party!
>
> Accept this member?
* > [🟩 YES ] 1
* > [🟥 NO ] 2
----------------------------------------
“I just have to accept?” Bugle asked, eyes struggling to process what they were seeing.
It looked like one of those obnoxious emails the women at work hit reply all to. They were burned into his brain after years and years of deleting them.
----------------------------------------
> To:
> Subject: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: FW: The Power of Positivity!!!!... 😱😢💖 Don’t break the chain!!Or else!
>
> Hey friends, I usually don’t forward these kinds of things, but this one totes spoke to me, and I knew I just HAD to share it with YOU. 😇🙏This is a story about how love conquers all!!!!!!!💕 Read to the end—it’s worth it!!! I promise!! You MUST share it with at least 10 friends in 2 days, or else the vibes will disappear and so will all your life savings. 😱💔
>
> Now, it’s your turn to share this message with the people YOU care about. Don’t ignore this, or [[Mr. Gherkanstki who lives in Apartment 13E will come to your door with a butcher knife]]….🌈✨
>
> FW or SEND this email to 10 people you care about ([dis]including me!!), and in 24 hours you’ll get some FABULOUS NEWS 🎉 But if you ignore this message…beware. 😬 I didn’t believe it either, but last time I ignored one I [REDACTED for legal purposes] 😖 Don’t break the chain!!
> Forward this to 10 friends in the next 10 minutes for good luck! The clock is ticking… 🕒 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 💕😇🙏
----------------------------------------
Bugle shook his head free of that horrific memory.
“Yes, yes, just look at the number you want to pick and think accept,” Benzo coached, voice a little too eager.
Sighing, Bugle’s eyes wandered to the second choice. Just think about the wishes, he told himself. He thought 'accept' and a chime rang in his head, making him wince.
----------------------------------------
> 🎉 Congrats! 🎉
>
> Benzomyazapan has joined your party!
>
> ✨ Let the stardust manipulation begin! ✨
----------------------------------------
Benzo beamed ecstatically. In the corner of Bugle’s vision a circular image appeared. Was that a grape? Squinting while looking at it popped up a larger image—ugh. A miniature profile picture of Benzo’s face zoomed in. It winked at him and then waved. As he stared at the horrible image, he noticed two thin bars beside it, one purple and one green...Blinking did nothing, they were still there. He sighed heavily.
“Oh fantastic. I’m partying with the Kool-Aid man,” he grumbled.
“Thank you for placing your trust in me, dearest hero. Now, let us venture forth on our quest, post-haste!”
“Where are those wishes, you mentioned?”
Benzo avoided meeting his gaze. Instead, he did an about-face and pointed into the horizon.
“Let us commence! First, we must find sustenance and tools to aid our hero!"
Bugle couldn’t help but at least agree with the 'sustenance' part. Sighing, he began to trudge behind the purple man. At least he seemed to have an idea of where they were going.
They walked a few blocks, Bugle thought it was blocks but really it was impossible to tell considering everything had been reduced to blocks and pieces. After following Benzo who'd confidently taken the lead, he looked to his right and frowned. He could've sworn they passed that exact crushed stop sign before.
Just as he was thinking that Benzo stopped and looked at him.
"Uh, by and by, do you happen to know where we are?" he asked.
Bugle groaned.