Putz12 Plus One

THIRTY | TRUTH CANNON

Under any other circumstance, literally any other, it would be a pleasure and an honor to bunk at the most expensive place he'd seen in his entire life, even in the movies. Especially alone. He was certain if he called Carley or any other servant they'd be there immediately with a bundle of hand-picked games left behind from their shrinking civilization. But nothing felt more torturous. He tossed and turned. He slept and woke up more tired than before. Every time he closed his eyes, a nightmare began.

It was the same dream. He'd be close to falling and she'd lift him up. Standing there with the sun beaming on her face. He could've sworn they were in Inkopolis square. Those squinty, smiling eyes made his heart pound. But suddenly the positions shifted, and she was the one dangling. When he tried pulling her up she let go and fell. "IZA!" This was the third time he'd dreamt it. He peered at the clock in a cold sweat, which existed in this part of the underground.

3 A.M. Squit. He got up in his white pajama pants and shirt that he'd never wear on the surface, and rubbed his eyes. Iza would have fallen asleep a long time ago, and there was no way any of this would ever make sense.

I've got everything here. I could stay here forever, protected. Never risking my life going back out there. But that would mean no rainmaker. He promised himself he'd win that coddam trophy one day, beat DUDE and his army of minions. But leaving her, but... It was no use rationalizing with the way she was acting toward him. Every time he blinked he saw all the good times, that smile, those yearning eyes that calmed when she saw him. He didn't see it before, but he must have had some sort of power over her. But that would mean...

"GAAAH! Stop it! Fucking STOP IT!! STOP. THINKING. ABOUT. HER!" He threw the pillow at the wall and the hanging picture frames fell, leaving a loud shatter on the shining floor. "No, no, no, holy squit!" He rushed, picking up the pieces. All they did was seem to dig in deeper, staining his hand with fresh ink. "OW! FUCKING OWW!" Again they dropped, this time he was bleeding. So he kicked them to punish them, not like they were real anyway. He stumbled into his nightstand and soon the lamp fell, too. Now he sat down and writhed in pain, clenching his knees, and when he opened his wincing eyes he saw Iza in a white satin robe, her tentacles looking a sophisticated mess, the kind only rich folks from the upper part of Inkopolis would have when they tried to make their well-groomed tentacles into mismatched waves.

He sat there, staring at her with his mouth open. "You've got to be fucking squidding me." He marched over to her with his fists clenched. There she was, leaning against the doorway like some fucking fashion model. "Dreams are one thing, but I will NOT HALLUCINATE! Fuck off!!! I'll go to bed, just get out of my head!!"

"I don't know what the fuck are you talking about?"

"Yeah," He said incredulously, limping to the bed in a bloody, inky mess and neatly tucked himself back in. "Sure ya don't."

She didn't say anything but continued looking at him. And despite her squinting eyes and a hint of anger she was still beautiful, perhaps more.

"The real Iza would never cuss."

A pause augmented the silence until she spoke. "You mean the old me? I've cussed several times."

Squit. He lurched out of his position, approaching her and cussing under his breath in pain. "Did ya need something? Sorry about everything, I really didn't know you could hear it!"

"I'm right next door. This place is big, sure, but things echo."

"Right, haha. Very sorry about it all. I'm sorry, I--"

She shook her head. "Why are you saying 'sorry' so much?"

"What? Because, because I am! I didn't mean to disturb y-"