Part II
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I ran out of the massive room that had hosted Torture Fest and into the familiar hallways of the Torture Labyrinth.
Its dank stoniness welcomed me; with each twist and turn I took I grew more and more lost, and I felt more and more comfortable.
It’s easy to feel lost when you know vaguely where you are, but when you’re completely lost, you always know exactly where you are. Right there.
Soon, I came across a fork in the path. This surprised me, and I picked it up.
Even sooner after that, the path split into two directions, and this surprised me even more.
I stopped.
I shook my head, cocked it, and listened.
From the left path, I could just barely make out the sound of a voice. It sounded agitated.
From the right, I heard only faint dripping from somewhere deep, and the far-flung echoes of soft, plodding footsteps.
I took the right path.
I continued walking for some time, turning many corners.
Most of them were roughly the same, a standard 90 degrees in one of two directions, but one in particular stood out.
I had just turned 90 degrees to my right.
I saw a vague figure in the distance and quickly ducked back behind the corner.
“Hey, I saw that! I saw you duck behind that corner!” nobody yelled.
“Hm,” I thought, and peeked my head past the corner.
There was no vague figure.
“I saw that!” I tested as I walked back out, “I know you’re back there!”
Nothing happened.
Then, the figure slowly slunk back out.
It was, not quite unsurprisingly, small, green, and humanoid.
“Well,” I said, “what have we here? Someone slinking about, eh?”
The creature bowed its head and shuffled forward.
“Knows a lot about ducking behind corners, I suppose!” I said accusingly.
It said nothing sheepishly.
“I say,” I built up, “do you have any idea how insulting that is?”
“No,” it mumbled.
“Well!” I proclaimed, “let that be a lesson to you, then!”
The creature looked shameful.
Then, it looked up.
I was shocked.
“Greebles?” I said.
“Hi.”
“Oh! Sorry about all that.”
“That’s alright. I like the suit.”
“Thanks,” I straightened it out, “how’ve you been?”
“Oh, you know,” it gestured to the hallway, “can’t complain.”
“You know, you really can’t.”
“How about yourself?”
“Oh, not too bad,” I said, “just came from Torture Fest.”
“Oh!” Greebles tried to look happy, “that’s awesome!”
“Yeah, it was pretty fun.”
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“I bet,” he said forlornly, “I can never get tickets…”
“So, anyway, Greebles…”
“Hm?” it looked up.
“...can I ask you a question?”
“Oh, sure!” it perked up, “about what?”
“Grungleby.”
His crest fell.
“Yeah,” he said, “follow me.”
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It led me in the direction I had come from, but we took turns that I had no recollection of.
Soon we were in a distinctly unfamiliar hallway that was, almost surprisingly, still made of a dank stone.
Greebles stopped at an inconspicuous crack in the bottom of a wall, and slipped through.
I followed it through the crack and into a small, dark room.
Greebles lit a candle that threw the room into a warm light.
The room was smaller than Grungleby’s, but it was cozier.
The table had two chairs instead of one, a cabinet and a cupboard, and a symbol that looked like a plus sign hanging on one of the walls.
We sat down.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Greebles asked, “I think I have some wine.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” it shrugged.
“So, Greebles-”
“Did they have Glorbo Nests?” he asked.
“Hm?”
“At Torture Fest? Did they have them?”
“Oh, yes…”
His crest, having almost recovered to its previous state, fell even further than it had before.
“Oh,” he said.
I thought about their strange taste and unusual texture.
“...they were quite good.”
“I’ve always wanted to try one…”
“Yeah…”
“...I’ve never been to Torture Fest…” he said morosely.
“...yeah…”
“...I can never find tickets…”
“...yeah, that sucks…”
“...yeah…”
Greebles looked down at his feet.
“...they’re really good.”
There was an awkward silence.
“So, anyway,” I said, “Greebs…”
“Yeah?” he looked up.
“I wanted to ask you a couple questions.”
“Oh, right,” he said sullenly, “yeah, go ahead.”
“Well,” I began, “I suppose my first question would be…”
“Mm-hmm?”
I asked my question.
Greebles’ eyes widened in surprise.
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"Has Grungleby been involved in an elaborate and convoluted scheme orchestrated by Gary the Goblin that involves turning me into a gremlin and condemning me to a lifetime of eternal torture in the Torture Labyrinth?” is the question I should have asked.
Instead, the question I did ask was this:
“Do you think Grungleby likes me?”
“Oh- uh,” Greebles stammered, “I’m not quite sure.”
“Oh,” I said, disappointed, “never mind…”
“Well-”
“...stupid question…”
“Do you like Grungleby?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said sheepishly, “they're nice, I suppose.”
“Have you talked to Grungleby about it?”
“About what?”
“You know,” Greebles made an incomprehensible gesture, “you two.”
“No,” I said, “I was going to, but it had to leave.”
“Oh?” Greebles seemed mildly surprised, “where was it going?”
“I’m not too sure…”
“Hm...”
“...I just know it was with two muscular men…”
Greebles stopped.
“...probably having a great time right now…”
“What’s that?”
“Hm?”
“What did you say? About Grungleby with two men?”
“Yes,” I said sourly, “muscular men.”
Greebles thought for a moment.
“Do you know why?” he asked.
“Well,” I thought about it, “they probably spend a lot of time working out, I suppose.”
“No,” he said patiently, “do you know why Grungleby was going with them?”
“Oh,” I thought about it.
“I don’t want to think about it,” I said.
Greebles pondered this.
Then, he asked,
"Was Grungleby being dragged away?”
“By the men?”
“Yes, the muscular ones. Were they dragging Grungleby away?”
I thought about it.
“Well, now that you mention it…”
“Yes?” he said expectantly.
“...they were more toned, really…”
Greebles sighed.
“...but, then again, I couldn’t really see, what with them draggin Grungleby away, and all…”
Greebles looked at me sharply.
“They were?” he asked.
“Well-”
“Dragging Grungleby away?”
“Oh,” I said, “yes, they were.”
Greebles took this in.
“Hm,” he said.
“Why? Do you suppose that’s important?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “but it’s probably best if you wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“Oh. Are you going to see Grungleby?”
“No.”
“Oh,” I said, disappointed, “well, if you do, tell it I say hello.”
Greebles smiled.
“I will.”
I heard him exit the front crack and plod quickly down the hall.
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Almost immediately after he was out of sight, I stood up and began to look through the small cabinet and cupboard that cramped the room.
The cabinet only held a small book. The pages were filled with strange sequences of what appeared to be letters and numbers. I couldn’t make sense of any of it.
Inside the cupboard was a small bottle that looked to hold the same dark liquid that Grungleby gave me, and two small, dirty glasses.
On the bottle was a small piece of tape that read, “G.J.”
I took a sniff.
It smelled like sewage water.
I took a small sip.
It tasted like sewage water, but I could appreciate the depth of flavor a bit more.
I took another sip.
I noticed the nuances and complexity of it.
I took a gulp.
It tasted amazing.
I downed the rest of the bottle, and started to feel strange.
I felt guilty for drinking all of Greebles’ strange drink, and attempted to scrawl an apologetic note on the bottle.
When that didn’t work, I attempted to carve it into the table with the fork I had found, and left the room muttering about “wine” and “greembles” and “gremling juice.”
After squeezing out of the front crack, I found myself in an unfamiliar hallway.
Still under the strange influence of the drink, I began plodding.
But soon I grew restless, and began to scurry down the hall.
I tore off my suit.
“Hee hee!” I giggled.
I looked at my hands.
They were now a creamy green, and had shrunken into wizened claws of bone and sinew.
“Ha ha!” I laughed.
I came across a door, and without stopping to read the sign, knocked on it loudly.
“Hoo hoo!” I cried as I scampered away.
I heard the door open behind me, and deep voices shout.
They began to run after me.
I smiled to myself and began to race faster.
I began approaching a corner.
Even from a distance I could tell it was exactly 90 degrees to the right. I just had to duck behind it and they’d never see me again.
I turned the corner and ran straight into a wall.
It was the second dead end I'd ever seen in the Torture Labyrinth.
As I stumbled backwards, dazed, I saw Grungleby’s face swimming around me.
“Seems like a plot contrivance, doesn’t it?” it said.
I mumbled something of an agreement, and was only vaguely aware of two pairs of muscular arms that began to drag me away.
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My senses returned a few minutes later, but only after a sharp and blinding pain carried them even further away.
“AAAAIIIEEEE!!!” I screamed.
“Shut up!” a familiar voice yelled, “I’m totally flagellating you right now!”