Although Grungleby was holding the palimpsest, it seemed to instinctively know its way through the maze of corridors.
Only a couple times did it have to double-check with the lines on the paper, and that was only when-
A distant shape ducked behind a corner.
“Hey!” I yelled, “I saw that!”
Nothing happened.
“I saw you just duck behind that corner!”
“Yeah, we know you’re back there!” Grungleby yelled, “Come out!”
A small, humanoid figure slowly slunk out from behind the corner.
“Oh, God,” Grungleby muttered.
“What?”
“I hate this guy.”
“What? Why?”
“He just brings the vibe down, you know? Just really bums me out.”
“Oh.”
The figure slowly trudged its way towards us.
It looked like Grungleby and Greebles, but it was smaller and paler. Its face was even more squinched.
As it got closer, it weakly raised its hands in my general direction.
“Nyegh,” it croaked out, “I’m gonna getcha…”
“Hey, man,” Grungleby said curtly, “listen, we’d love to stay and chat, but we’ve really gotta get going…”
The creature stopped and looked at Grungleby.
“Do you realize how insulting that is?”
“No, I don’t, and I don’t care to. Listen…”
“Are you serious right now, Grungles?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“First guy to try to escape in seven years, and I can’t even be a gremlin towards him?”
“Ok, Keith?”
Grungleby pinched his brow,
“Listen…”
“What?”
“...first of all, you’re not a gremlin. You’re never gonna be a gremlin. So get that through your head.”
Keith scoffed.
“Second of all, we’ve got places to be, okay? This guy found a palipset…”
I waved.
“A what?”
“A palipsent,” Grungleby answered.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t worry about what it is, Keith, it doesn’t concern you. So if you’ll excuse us…”
“Are you just gonna let it boss you around like that?” it asked me.
“Oh- uh…”
“Well, don’t drag them into this,” Grungleby said to Keith, “they don’t know what’s going on…”
“What?”
“Listen, Grungles-”
“I said, ‘Don’t call me that.’”
“-Grungleby, sorry. Listen, Grungles-”
Grungleby lunged.
The two creatures became a snarling blur of fangs, claws, and general appendages, biting each other in multiple places at once.
Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped. The two were separated and walking in opposite directions.
“Keith.” Grungleby said bitterly.
“Grungleby.”
We walked away.
“See what I mean?” Grungleby asked.
I looked back.
“Yeah, no, I did not like that dude, like, at all.”
“Oh, he’s actually the worst. Ripped my- oh. Hm.”
“What?”
Grungleby was looking at the palimpsest.
“We’re here.
----------------------------------------
The door to the Chamber of Ending-Far-in-the-Future-Flagellations looked as I remembered it.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
It was a modest, unassuming wooden door, quite like every other door I’d seen in the Torture Labyrinth.
The only thing unusual about it was the distinct lack of agonized screaming coming from behind it.
Well, that and the soft light seeping from under the door and the smell of tobacco.
Come to think of it, it was quite unlike any other door I’d seen in the labyrinth.
I knocked.
“Enter!” a voice cried from inside.
I tried the doorknob.
It was locked.
“It's locked,” I said.
There was some pittering, the lock clicked, and some pattering.
I tried the doorknob again.
It opened.
In the center of the room was a massive wooden desk, with an ancient lamp warmly lighting the room.
The walls were painted a deep red and ornately trimmed; on one wall was a painting of a wizened green creature, and on the other was
a door.
In front of us was a richly decorated rug, and two plush armchairs that faced the desk.
Sitting behind the desk, with his hands steepled in front of him, was the goblin who gave me the palimpsest.
He seemed to be breathing heavily.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hi,” I said.
Grungleby grunted.
“Welcome.”
“Thanks.”
Grungleby said nothing.
“Please, have a seat.”
We sat down.
The goblin sat expectantly.
I looked around the room.
“Nice room,” I said.
“Thanks.”
“Who’s the little green guy?” I pointed to the painting.
Grungleby stiffened.
“That,” said the goblin curtly, “is my great-great-grandfather. He built this place.”
“Oh. Was he a gremlin?”
Grungleby’s eyes widened.
“Do you…”
“Uh huh.”
“...have any idea…”
“Mm-hmm.”
“...how insulting that is?”
I thought about it.
Slowly, realization dawned on me.
“No,” I said.
“Hmm,” the goblin narrowed his eyes and looked at me.
“Well,” I said, “how do I go about getting out of this Torture Labyrinth, anyhow?”
“That,” he said as he shuffled some papers on his desk, “my friend…”
I caught a glimpse of one of the papers. The title read,
“System for the Structural Empowerment of Systemic Structures of Power.”
“...is an extremely loaded question.”
“What is?”
“The question you just asked.”
“Oh. The one about escaping the Torture Labyrinth?”
“Yes.”
I took this in.
“Hm,” I said.
“I suppose-” the goblin began.
“How did you do that?” Grungleby interrupted.
“Do what?”
“Unlock the door. Do you have some sort of secret door-unlocking device?”
The goblin looked at Grungleby.
“Yes,” he said.
“Can I see it?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
"Now-" it began again.
“Where’s all the flagellation?” I wondered aloud.
“The what?”
“Flagellation.”
“Oh,” the goblin chuckled, “it’s a clever little trick, really. You see, no one would ever willingly enter a Chamber of Ending-Far-in-the-Future Flagellations, making it the perfect spot-”
“I don’t think I’d willingly enter any chamber of flagellation, to tell you the truth,” I said.
“Ah, but you did, didn’t you?”
“Well, I certainly ended up in one…”
"Well, there you go."
“Eternal flagellation sounds a lot worse than finite flagellation,” Grungleby said.
“Ah, but does it? You see-
“Yeah.”
“-you see, everyone knows eternal flagellation isn’t really possible! It has to stop at some point, either you die or escape somehow, but either way you’re not getting the full sentence!"
"Hm..." Grungleby said.
"...now on the other hand, if you know you’ve got a finite amount of flagellation, you’re infinitely more likely to suffer through the entire punishment!”
“...I can see that, I suppose."
“Why did he build it?” I asked.
“Why, for flagellating people, of course!”
'Oh, the Torture Labyrinth, I mean. What’s the purpose of it?”
The goblin looked at me as if I just asked him the definition of the word “gremling.”
“I don’t know,” he said slowly, “he just felt like it, I guess.”
I pondered this.
“But where is it?” Grungleby asked.
“Where is what?”
“The flagellation!”
“Oh,” the goblin chuckled, “this chamber was built far in the past.”
“Oh.”
There was a short silence.
“What’s behind that door?” I pointed at the door in the wall.
The goblin looked eagerly at the door.
“That…”
It paused for dramatic effect.
“...is the Exit to the Torture Labyrinth!”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Can I leave?”
“No.”
“Nuts.”
The goblin chuckled richly.
“Well, why’d you give him the palipsenst, then?” Grungleby asked.
“The what?”
“The palipsinth.”
“The palimpsest?”
“Yeah, that.”
The goblin looked at me mischievously.
“Well,” he said slowly, “you think you’ve just been wandering around the Torture Labyrinth…”
Grungleby and I looked at each other and nodded.
“...when in fact, this has been your torture the entire time!”
He chuckled richly again, savoring the moment.
“What is?” I asked.
“The crushing disappointment of not being able to leave, of course!”
I looked at the door.
“Seems like I can leave right now, doesn’t it?”
“Well, no, actually,” he said firmly, “you can’t.”
“Why not?” I asked.
The goblin looked at me with contempt.
“Because this…” he began, enunciating each word,
“Uh huh...”
“...is a Torture…”
“...mm-hmm...”
“...Labyrinth.”
I looked at Grungleby.
“Real expert on Torture Labyrinths, this guy is.”
The goblin sighed.
“Well, that’s that, then,” I clapped my knees, “I suppose we’ll be getting out of your hair.”
Grungleby looked at me strangely.
“Oh-” the goblin looked up, surprised, “yes, well, there’s nothing much you can do, I suppose…”
“Greebles is gonna love this, isn’t he?” I asked Grungleby.
“Uh- oh, yes, he’ll get a real kick out of it. Secret exits and all that…”
“Er- sorry-”
“Hm?”
“What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“Who’s going to love this?”
“Greebles,” I said, “he’s a gremlin.”
The goblin took this in.
“Hm,” he said.
“I can tell him, can’t I?” I asked the goblin.
The goblin pondered this.
“I mean, unless it happens to disrupt any structural systems of systemic empowerment, that is…”
The goblin shuffled the papers around his desk again.
A worried look came over his face.
“Oh, yes,” Grungleby said, “I imagine everyone is going to try to escape once they find out there’s an exit…”
The goblin swallowed.
“Well, let’s not be hasty…” it began.
“Right,” I began to stand up, “I’ll be seeing you around, I suppose,” I said to the goblin.
“Yes, it’s been lovely,” Grungleby stood up as well, “thanks for having us, Gary, I’ll see you Thursday.”
We started to walk back to the door we came in through.
“Wait!”
We waited.
Gary muttered something about how he should have gone into the Murder Labyrinth business like his brother, and then said,
“Don’t go out that door.”
I looked at the door.
“Why not?”
“Well,” Gary steepled his hands again, “it’s a labyrinth, yes?”
“A Torture Labyrinth, I’ve heard.”
“And labyrinths are generally known to have magically shifting corridors, correct?”
I looked at Grungleby.
Grungleby nodded.
“So if that’s the door you came in through…”
“Uh huh...”
“...and that’s the door,” he pointed to the other door, “that was the exit…”
“...mm-hmm...”
“...then it's not inconceivable that the doors have now switched!”
Grungleby and I took this in.
“Hm,” we said.
“And since I want to keep you from leaving…”
“Naturally.”
“…then you should now go through that door!”
He pointed back at the other door.
“I can see that, I suppose…” I said.
“Well, there you go.”
'...but what’s to stop us from opening both?”
“It’s one or the other.”
“Well, suppose I choose one and Grungleby chooses the other?”
Gary looked at Grungleby seriously.
“I won’t let you,” he said in a low voice.
Grungleby swallowed.
“Why not?” I asked.
He stood up slowly and leaned on his fists.
“I don’t know,” he said, gritting his teeth with every word, “I just don’t feel like it, I guess.”
I took this in.
“Hm,” I said.
I looked at Grungleby.
Grungleby nodded.
We walked out of the door.
----------------------------------------
The second door, that is.