Pandemonium | Dream SMP

11. What a dump.

When describing the community house to me, Tubbo had mentioned with pride that it was the first building to be constructed within the SMP, built by Dream himself. I found this information intriguing. In a sense, this building is of historical importance to the SMP. An antique of sorts.

And looking at it now, its...antiqueness really does show.

"What a dump," Schlatt states, kicking at a fence post.

The post splinters like cotton and drops off the side of the bridge, splashing into the lake below.

"It's certainly very authentic," I cough, trying not to laugh at Schlatt's scowl. The house is crumbling at the corners, its brickwork loose and showing signs of corrosion. The foundations that keep it elevated above the lake are suspiciously simple. The whole place looks like it could drop at any moment.

But I suppose it isn't all bad.

It looks as though someone has made a recent attempt to beautify the build by adding window boxes and shutters. A cute addition that will, unfortunately, go unnoticed by Schlatt, who cares little for any form of plant life.

Schlatt kicks another post and it too crumbles easily beneath his shoe. He looks like he's enjoying himself.

I'm willing to bet he was the sort of child who stomped on ant hills in his youth.

"Shall we take a look inside?" I prompt, momentarily diverting his attention from the third fence post he's about to decimate.

"Yeah, gimme a minute."

I chuckle and head onto the bridge first, hearing a soft crack not a moment later, followed by a splash. I hope he doesn't keep up this level of vandalism during our time here, or there may not be a community house left by the time we leave.

Thankfully, the interior of the building is in much better condition than the exterior, putting to rest my worries of Schlatt endlessly complaining about his poor living conditions throughout our stay. At most he'll probably just mutter under his breath and kick the things that displease him.

A few lanterns hang from hooks in the ceiling, so I set about lighting them up with a flint and steel I find on a counter to see exactly what we're working with.

The house is surprisingly spacious, with a tall ceiling and plenty of windows for natural lighting. The majority of rooms seem to be filled with chests and barrels, all covered in dust, and I find a small kitchenette on the ground floor, along with a seating area of sorts. The second floor is less dusty, and almost every room holds a bed.

Finding one room to call my own, I place my trident into a corner and pat down the bed, searching for debris or bugs beneath the covers.

There's a bang beneath my feet followed by an, "Ow, fuck!"

I halt in my pat-down, a smile worming its way onto my face. It sounds like Schlatt has entered the building. As graceful as ever.

I should go check on him.

"Is everything okay, sir?" I ask, poking my head down the spiralling staircase.

I don't receive a reply, so venture down and begin peering into rooms in search of my goat-man.

Finding him proves easy. All I have to do is follow the grunts of anger and curse words.

He's sat on the wooden floor, hunched forward as he attempts to pry something from his foot.

That something turns out to be a painting.

"Um, Schlatt?"

"Ares! There you are! Come help me out here. This shitty thing is stuck on my foot!"

"Why is it on your foot in the first place?" I question, stepping over and ripping the painted canvas large enough for Schlatt to slide his foot from.

"It was lookin' at me funny." He grumbles, giving the frame a final kick to vent his rage.

"I see..."

He stands and dusts off his suit. "So, where's the executive suite?"

After showing Schlatt to a room and politely turning down his offer to join him in bed, I head back to my own room and take a seat on the squeaky mattress. Only now that the day has reached its end can I finally allow exhaustion to sweep over me. And doubt to gnaw at my questioning mind.

Wilbur's words have been bothering me more than I thought they would.

'You planned to run a party from the beginning, didn't you?'

As much as I want to deny such an allegation, I know how Schlatt thinks. It's highly likely Wilbur is correct, and Schlatt did plan to run for president from the beginning.

But that isn't what's upsetting. It's the thought that Schlatt didn't tell me in advance. It may sound childish, but Schlatt tells me everything. Even the stuff I don't want to know. For him to keep such a large decision to himself is unusual.

Of course, this is all hypothetical. For all I know, Schlatt could have made the decision to run for president the moment he got up out of his chair.

It wouldn't be the first time he's changed his mind on the spot. And it certainly won't be his last.

After running through my thoughts for what feels like hours, I eventually fall into a light, dreamless sleep.

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Short chapter to set things up, also 'cause last chapter was so long. And for those of you who watched the vid, I lowkey want Techno to step on me in those heels...