A Hooligan's Imagination

Seating for Two

It's a bit humid today, but it hadn't stopped you when you first set up your table for three. The scent of the white blossoms waft through the air, and a few petals land on the meal you prepared. You've been waiting for your friends for a long time now, so long that you've forgotten how many sunrises you've seen peek over the spidery branches of ancient trees that hide your little home from the world. You never see the sunsets. It's like the world just turns off the sun and lets its kin and lover paint the night sky in shades of black, white and grey.

You sigh, spinning a fork in your hands as you contemplate on starting on the fruit in the tin. But the sound of groaning, splintering wood rouses you out of your thoughts, and you turn to your right. A large tree slowly splits like a hardback book being opened too wide, a body pulling its way out of it. Pale as birch, its fat rolls seem to be barely held in by its leathery skin. Its huge mouth looks more like a half stitched rip in a towel. Eyes crowd the top of its head like a beanie.

You smile and gesture to a seat. 

It blinks and grins kindly with a mouth filled with too many blunt teeth, the by it wrinkles pulling  in a way feels like it's about to be skinned alive. It makes its way over slowly. Even when it moved the chair out of the way to sit on the grass, it towers over you. Its body casts a large shadow over the table. Thick fingers delicately pick off the fruit and savor it, the juice sinking into the flesh of the mouth and tinting its skin. You hold up the small pan of fruit, and eats slowly. It stops at a lone strawberry, its hand resting next to the pan. It looks to you. You look back. It looks to the strawberry, then back to you. It takes you a moment to realize, and you laugh. You pluck the strawberry up and hold it to its lips.

The strawberry disappears, but your thumb still lingers on it's flat teeth. It lifts its lips up in a snarl-like grin. You press your thumb hard. Harder into the teeth. You press harder, harder, harder- There's an odd popping sound, and you seethe slightly. Blood drips from your broken skin into its mouth. Its lips close around, and you both remain like that for a moment. You slowly pull your thumb out, the flesh now knitted back together. A small white scar is the only indication that you ever had a cut.

The sound of flesh pulling together, almost like ripping cloth and deforming plastic, brings you back to look at the creature. It's body morphs, fat and bones shrinking, molding into a different shape. It's skin changes, eye count lessens, it grows clothes, and it- It's you. Or... it almost is. It's skin is a touch paler than yours. It's tooth gaps are a bit too wide. There are too few wrinkles on its face. It smiles. Its dimples are too deep. Its eyes too thin. You laugh and smile back, handing it a fork so that it may work on the neglected slice of crepe cake. Its eyes crinkle, shaking its head. It point to the half filled bottle of milk with fingers too thick to be yours. You hand the bottle to them. It drinks slowly. 

t places the bottle on the table as it gets up, dusting itself of any grass or other vegetation that clings to its new clothes. You both stare at each other before grinning. "Good luck," you say. Its smile is blinding. It leans down and kisses your nose. You watch as it changes its gait. Slow, large steps with a slouched back turn into a quick pace, its back a bit straighter than how you actually walk. It slips through the giant crack in the tree easier. You smile and shake your head, picking up your fork and digging into your own cake slice.

Your friends won't mind that you had another guest over while you waited for them.