Friendship is Magic

Cricket

"Well, Marley seemed t' like 'em. Though, she also 'as tiny 'ands." I rambled as I studied the Face drawing. "Personally I'm not all that much for drawing and such in general, but 'ey, they're colorful and some people find 'em fun t' work with, so, ah . . . let 'em do what they want, aye? Color, art, all that sort o' thing, all in good fun."

Mr.Face:

"That makes sense. To each their own. And I'm not much for visual art either... just something that I've dabbled with on occasion. I much prefer music or architecture... of course, torture is my favourite medium, however, I am trying to keep this... friendly, so I don't know that I ought to list it with the others." I remarked, putting away the pencils and ruler.

Cricket

"You're probably th' only person I've talked to who thinks of torture as a medium," I said, sliding the drawing back across his desk. Then-- waitpardon. No, that had been a lie, the torture bit. "Wait a moment, no, I've seen a few. But ah . . . not too many I'd willingly be around, I'd say."

Mr.Face:

"Is that intended as a compliment or an insult, My Pr---uh Cricket?" I asked, realising how awkwardly phrased that was. I took the drawing back and slid it into a drawer in my desk. "And, what, may I ask is the difference between those individuals and I?"

Cricket

It was still odd, him calling me Cricket. A bit like your worst nightmare calling you by name, except that's exactly what it was. Only this time, it wasn't all too creepy. I suppose you get used to the teeth clicking as you would after a long while of hearing anyone's voice. Perhaps. Somewhat.

. . . Nah. It was still slightly creepy. He could still hang me on a wall if he saw fit.

"Nothing, only a simple statement. And ah, let's see. They talk funny, lack shoes, don't run a big legal dictatorship and are blessed with faces. Not all pretty ones, but noneth'less." I glanced around the room through my hair, unsure of what to do with my hands now that I wasn't holding a paper. I ended up clenching and unclenching my fists, for the sake of something to do rather than habit.

Mr.Face:

"Oh. I see. Interesting. So, if they aren't governmental figure heads, then how and why are they--" I was cut off by a ringtone that was being broadcast over my private sound system.

...Seriously, employees? Are you really so incompetent as to need my assistance in the middle of one of the only successful social interactions I have had in my life? ...Apparently, I concluded as the tone continued.

I sighed and let the thing repeat once more before finally interrupting. " ...What. What do they need?" I asked the OS irritatedly.

" Apparently there is some kind of detainment issue down on five, sir..."

Expletives. That was actually... an issue. Something that I couldn't just go send some other idiot to deal with. Fantastic. I brought a hand to my face for a moment, and allowed that all to process.

" I am going to have to ask you to excuse me while I go and deal with general incompetence. I shouldn't be more than a half an hour, unless the entire department needs shot or something like that..." I stated, the sheer annoyance at the mess evident in my voice.

" Sir, are you---"

" Yes, I'm coming! Internet, do I have to upload another book of manners into your hard drive?! The idiots can wait while I explain the situation to people of actual importance. If they end up dead, that's their problem." I explained, standing up and making my way to the door.

Cricket

Oh bother. Down on Five. It was in that odd moment that I was reminded that I'd managed to snake my way onto the opposite side of the game. He was getting called away from me to deal with Cellblock, not the other way around. I pinched myself. Nah, still awake.

I had to wonder if I was in a position to try and stop him for whoever the soul was that had wound up down there, and then I wondered if by not doing so I was being a coward or simply smart. I had my high doubts that Face would oblige. Talk was one thing, but actually restraining from torture itself? . . . Aye, I had my high doubts.

"I, ah . . ." I had absolutely no idea whatsoever what to say to the situation. Have fun? "I'll be 'ere."

Mr.Face:

"Good. I do apologise for their idiocy." I stated before pulling the door open and heading off to deal with whatever atrocious acts of stupidity my employees were now responsible for. Honestly, if this were going to be some kind of long drawn out ordeal, I'd have to simply lock them up until a more appropriate time. Imbeciles.

Cricket

Aye, I was done thinking about Cellblock Five. Enough of that. Hm, distractions. Aye.

Now what to do while he was gone.

Ah. Important-looking chair. Hehe, wonder what it was like to sit behind a desk. He wouldn't mind, would he? Well, he wouldn't mind if he didn't know. I swung over the top of the desk and landed in the gigantic thing with a swift 'whump'-- oi my my it spins. They're quite a bit of fun, gigantic spinny chairs behind desks.

Behind the desk I saw several drawers. Ah, lovely. My fingers itched to snoop. Only a small bit. I wouldn't take anything, I mean . . . I wouldn't plan on taking anything. What did Mr. Face have that I would want anyhow, save the gigantic spinny chair that was much too big to slip into my pocket and sneak out?

What would Mr. Face keep in a drawer? . . . Knives? . . . Holy Hell. Tapes? I reached for the handle but my hand hovered just over it. Perhaps I shouldn't look at all. Perhaps the OS would have a fit or something if I tried looking around. Or he could walk in on me again and toss the friend attempt out the window in a rage. . . . What were in the drawers?

Here goes nothing. I grabbed the handle, looked away, tugged on a drawer and found . . . well, no alarms so far. Perhaps it was safe to look.

Alright. Here goes nothing. I hesitated, then blew just enough hair out of my eyes, to find the horrifying sight of . . .

Paper.

I chuckled to myself. How thrilling. And in another one? Pens. I whistled, Well, I suppose paper can be evil, muttered, "Paper cuts . . . aye, that works. Paper can be used for evil . . ."

Well. Five minutes in, and I was bored. I slapped the drawers back closed and spun in the chair.

Riddle:

So, you know when those feelings of feelyness that make you wonder if you need a rhinoceros to like, eat the summer out of your pasta gluttons just to make another rake happen so you don't have to think about all that crap under your bed?

I WAS FEELING THAT FEEL.

So...I went walking over to Dad's office, only he doesn't like to be called that but I call him that anyway cos he doesn't like to be called that so I just make him mad because I can and it's kinda funny...BUT ANYWAY ON WITH THE STORY.

So. Yeah. I WENT TO HIS OFFICE AND I KNOCKED ON THE DOOR AND THEN I WENT INSIDE ANYWAY COS IT WASN'T LOCKED AND SOME GUY WHO WASN'T HIM WAS IN HIS CHAIR...BEING ALL... CRICKET.

"ARE YOU LIKE LUKE SKYWALKER OR SOMETHING?" I asked, all like....Whatchoo talkin'bout willis?

Cricket

I heard her before I spun around and saw her.

Oh bother.

" 'ey Riddle. Come 'ere often?"

Riddle:

"OOH...ONLY LIKE... ON DAYS WHEN I FORGET WHERE I LOST MY PASTRIES...YOU KNOW HOW IT IS." I explained elastically. "SO WHAT BRINGS YOU TO THE MAGICAL MEAT PI FACTORY ON A DAY LIKE THIS ONE? I MEAN...NOTHING IMPLODED...SO YOU'RE NOT HERE TO BE TAXIDERMIED..." I wondered.

Cricket

This lass was an interesting one, alright. And a loud one. How long did Mr. Face say he'd be? Half an hour. It hadn't been hardly a few minutes. Alright, let's see. Let her stay, see if she leaves, and if not, hope nothing bad happens when Mr. Face comes back.

Good plan.

"Your Fath-- ah, Mr. Face invited me t' dinner, which was odd t' say th' least, actually."

Riddle:

"OOh-- You guys ATE? ...WHEN WAS THAT? What was that?! WERE THERE WAFFLES? I wanted waffles for dinner... but then I forgot that dinner existed until just now...So... you know, can't count your amygdalas until you batter dip them! And he did WHAT. He never invites me ANYWHERE. AND I EVEN LIVE HERE! ...How'd you do that?" I Rochambeaued, wondering why I didn't come see Cricket eat dinner.

...Oh right the dinner room is all dark. THAT'S WHY.

That made sense.

"You should have WARNED ME AND I WOULD HAVE PUT UP LIKE... what're those thingys...GLOWSTICKS!" I told him with a face on my face.

Cricket

I couldn't help but grin. I have to say, it was refreshing to have a bit of nonsense after talking to all of the strict sense of Mr. Face. "Actually, long story, but it started with you. What're glowsticks? Sticks that glow?"

Riddle:

"GLOWSTICKS ARE MAGICAL TUBES OF GOO THAT WHEN YOU SNAP THEM AND BEND THEM, THEIR MAGICAL JUICES COMBINE INTO A FLAVOURFUL ARRAY OF GLOWY CRAP THAT ILLUMINATES THE DARK UNLIKE ANY OTHER FLASHLIGHT. ...And they're great fun if you accidentally eat them and then get disemboweled. ONCE MY KIDNEY GLOWED. FOR A WEEK." I explained carefully, pushing some hair out of my face.

Cricket

I bursted out a laugh, twirling around in the chair once or twice. "Igh, that sounds somewhat nasty."

Riddle:

"OH IT IS! ...BUT ALSO REALLY NEAT... I COULDN'T STOP LAUGHING... I mean... just... Dad holding a bright pink kidney...and yelling...ABOUT..."I had to stop for a minute to laugh. "ABOUT BADGERS. ...You shoulda been there..."I said all... how I was.

Cricket

"That's a'right, I'll take your word for it," I said, and flung myself around faster in the chair until I slowed, grinning dizzily. "Think your dad might mind me sitting in 'is chair? Not that it quite matters, I mean, it's far too fun t' give up, it's like . . . I don't know what it's like! Hah. Oi my my, ever tried it?"

Riddle:

"...No, actually... I never like... normally when I'm here, he's here. WHICH LOGICALLY MEANS THAT I CANNOT SIT ON HIM. Because the chair is under him...so... yeah!" I explained. "And I mean.. he has a brain so he might mind but he doesn't work in shafts so he can't mine...so I wouldn't worry...maybe. I mean... whatever." It was as easy as lemons on noodle soup.

Cricket

That was good enough for me. I spun myself the other way, the blandness of office-land zipping past again and again in a million bland color streaks. "Why don't they 'ave chairs like this in Luna? If it were small enough, I might try t' take it, but I 'ave a feeling that 'e'd probably notice if I tried dragging 'is office chair out int' my own mindspace. Why do th' dictators get all th' interesting stuff?"

Riddle:

"Because he dictates? And so then the stuff...listens? Probably just because he passed go and collected two hundred dollars though... he's going to buy all my railroad stations, man. I HATE MONOPOLY!" I said as I watched the merry go round of his hair fly through the office in circles of pastafarianism.

Cricket

"What th' bother's Monopoly?" I was getting dizzy again, so I dug my heels into the ground and started it up the other way until I was going at a good pace one again.

Mr.Face:

To change my shirt or not to change my shirt... that was the question. I was undoubtedly somewhat smattered in gore, but I wasn't sure how much and how much gore was the acceptable cut off for dinner guests.

I concluded that since I wasn't completely soaked in anything, it would be permissible to proceed directly to my office instead of stopping by my own room to change.

I could tell something was awry before I even walked into the room. It was entirely too loud, even if he'd started up some kind of bizarre dialogue with the OS...it wouldn't have been that...loud.

I threw the door open irritatedly, in part because of the already ridiculously irritating nonsense I'd just HAD to deal with...and in part because of--

"MONOPOLY IS A MAGICAL INVENTION BY THE ECONOMY POLICE TO MAKE SURE PEOPLE AREN'T DOING SUCCESS WRONG!" ... ... ...Her.

"Get out. Right now. Get out. I don't want to hear you within twenty metres of this place for the rest of eternity." I hissed.

"BUT I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF EXPLAINING A THINGY TO A THING!"

"NOW." I then realised that there could be a potential problem with simply firing an entire round into the room. My Pri---CRICKET. Was there, and I'm guessing that it wouldn't be conducive to the whole idea of friendship if I accidentally kneecapped him with my pistol. I still went ahead and pulled the gun. Not that i was any use trying to threaten her.

Cricket

Oh bother.

I was up as soon as he was in the room, the chair left spinning behind me-- oooh bother I forgot I was dizzy. I careened against the desk, one elbow propped against it to keep myself steady and my free hand holding my head to keep it steady. "Oi my my. A'right, I know this looks bad, Mr. Face, but she walked in and wasn't 'urting anybody and you weren't 'ere any'ow so I figured she couldn't bother you if you weren't around t' be bothered and 'oly 'ELL I'm dizzy . . . phew . . . woah." I then took notice of the gun, and my stomach leapt into a knot. It was aimed at Riddle, which . . . at least she was insane and immortal, and probably wouldn't mind. But still. It was a gun. "Aren't we being a bit 'asty, I mean, there's no 'arm done truly, see. See, she was just ah . . . whoo." I was starting to be able to see straight. "Leaving. Aye, Riddle?"