Info
my silly little xoggy
anyways, I hope you liked this goober
Squeezing through a corridor of pipes, I expected to only hear my thoughts and the gentle flowing of who-knows-what through the ducts surrounding me. My ears were met with the sound of rapid footsteps, followed by a trembling yelp. This wasn't the yell of an entity— but of a person.
A person? I haven't seen anyone since I fell in. Was somebody else as fortunate as me to fall out of the world?
While lost in my own introspection, the stranger's wails became full-on cries for help. It seemed their shrieks emanated from only a little way down the hall I crawled into. I didn't say anything just in case there were other entities nearby — there usually weren't, but there was no being too safe.
I began sprinting towards their location, with the rush of adrenaline I didn't know I had in me. I turned the corner, pipe in hand.
What I didn't expect was to see a grown-ass man cowering, cornered by a Hound. Granted, I'd normally also cower in the presence of a Hound, but usually that's because a Hound tries to attack you. This one was just standing there— somewhat menacingly.
"I'll fucking do it! Don't think I won't transfuse you!"
The Hound just turned its head. I don't think it thought he would transfuse it.
In its defense, his "transfuser" did look like a hand mixer.
I approached behind the Hound, with the pipe in my grasp ready to strike. To my surprise, it turned around and began snarling at me. I looked over at the guy and saw him fiddling with the mixer, trying to detach one of the whisks.
Right as the Hound began to leap at me the man shrieked.
He chucked one of the whisks at the Hound, hitting it square in the face.
I stood there dumbfounded as the Hound whimpered and scurried off, leaving me and Mr. Hand Mixer staring at each other with mutual confusion.
"Nice throw," I say nonchalantly to ease the tension. He crawls over to grab the whisk before standing up to face me.
"Cool shoes, I like your shoelaces."
"…Okay?"
"Are they Vans?"
"Uh, yeah, they are. Why?"
My eyebrows furrow; he notices my confusion with his question.
"Sorry, I mean, thanks for distracting that thing for me."
He jammed the whisk back into the "transfuser" and dusted off his sleeves.
"You just seem super hashtag eighties. Where did you thrift your blazer from?"
His eyes sparkle with curiosity.
"I didn't thrift this. I found it on a dead Faceling, I didn't think it would mind the cold anymore. The blazer looked just like one I wanted from a store in the mall."
"I only get my clothes from Hot Topic, well, until the mall it was in closed down."
"Sucks that it closed down, but couldn't you just go to another one?"
"Nope, that was the last one for miles."
"Far out."
"Yeah, miles out. Like I said."
"No, I mean like—"
"I get what you mean, but who says that? Are you American or something?"
"Uh, yeah. Did you beat your head with that mixer when you fell in?"
"Mixer? You mean my Quantum Transfuser?"
"Sure, yeah. How did you fall in exactly?"
"I didn't fall per se, more like rose. When I turned the Transfuser on, I lifted upwards into the ceiling and it brought me here."
"Well, how does the hand mixer— sorry, Transfuser work?"
"Honestly, I don't know. I didn't know what to expect when I turned it on. I did have to follow a video tutorial to figure out that the whisks do the mixing, not the hook thingies."
"Did your Transfuser come with an instruction tape?"
"Okay, this is really funny and all, and I respect the commitment to the eighties bit, but can we just speak as normal people?"
"I'm not doing a bit. I thought you were trying to be funny."
"Huh. Okay, how long have you been here?"
"Like a month or two."
"Oh. I think I get it now."
"Yeah. Well now I need to know, what year did you come from?"
"2012."
"Oh damn! Are there like, flying cars yet?"
"This isn't Back to the Future; you'd probably be disappointed with how everything turned out."
"So that movie is still relevant then?"
"—Yeah. Anyways, I can't believe I never asked this so much earlier in the conversation, but what's your name?"
I didn't really have an answer for him yet. I'd never had the chance to just go along with what I felt about myself before. But, I had to say something of course. So I just, simply…
"My name is Saoirse."
"Come again?"
"S- Saoirse."
"…I'm not even going to guess how to spell that."
I didn't actually know how to spell it either, truth be told.
—Alright, that's enough reminiscing for now. I need to focus.