The Unnatural Disasters

3. 'Funland': Omega

For the record, I actually hate small children.

They're small, sticky, and shriek more often than I like and less often than Goop would like. Altogether, I find them an equal mix of terrifying and annoying.

So exactly why do I have a troop of toddlers following my every command?

Let's backtrack a little.

I'm standing inside one end of the customer services building, 'standing guard' for whatever reason. I don't know: it's unlikely that a crazed axe murderer is going to run out of an office cubicle and go kill Copycat. But Lazuli told me to, and Lazuli seems nice, so yeah. I'm here, trying to ignore the flickering of the lights.

Kill whoever installed the lights, Goop unhelpfully suggests. He's a solid blue colour today: on the Goop Murdery-ness scale, that's a 'please stay away from sharp objects'. I shouldn't have even come here; I don't exactly trust Goop in this state. Good thing the park's quiet.

And as I stand, someone starts to walk down the corridor whilst staring at me. She's a short woman with black hair neatly tied up into a ponytail and a look of intent on her face. I panic slightly- is Goop out my rucksack? Does she know I'm not meant to be here? Is she just a fan of looking menacing at people?

"Come on! You're on stage in five!" She yells at me.

What?

"Well? Stop standing like a lemon, would ya? We got several angry toddlers waiting on us!"

And with that, she grabs my arm and marches me out the building.

I'm pretty terrified right now. I don't know what this woman'd do if I tried to break free of her grasp and I really don't want to know. Plus, Goop keeps giving me more and more extremist ways to kill her: I no longer feel safe around a candy floss machine.

She pushes me into the back entrance of what looks to be a log cabin.

"Well? Get changed, you're on the clock. Did they tell you nothing in orientation?"

They didn't, because I never had any orientation that I know of. Somehow I don't feel like this has something to do with my memory or lack of it, though.

So I need to get changed. The woman leaves me to it; I search round the walls for clues as to what's going on.

There's a little plaque on the wall declaring 'Funnie's fun place!', along with a drawing of a little blue creature... one that looks a lot like Goop in cover. The dots fall agonisingly into place.

She thinks I'm the guy who dresses up as this mascot.
I am not the guy who dresses up as this mascot.
Goop+me looks a lot like the mascot.
That woman will probably kill me if I don't change.

I sigh. I really didn't want to have to do this today.

"Goop?" It stirs inside my backpack. "Full cover."
—-
"Alright!"  The woman from before stands beside me on the small stage, yelling into a microphone. We're standing on a raised platform on one side of a room made up to look like a log cabin- faux wood and fake maps cover the walls. Several benches with small children crowded on them face us, with what I assume are the parents standing bored at the back. So this is where all the kids went; why so many children are in love with something that looks like the antagonist of a fever dream, I don't know.

Goop's voice is like a chant at the front of my mind: kill them! Kill them! Kill them!

It's getting worryingly difficult to ignore right now.

I've been ignoring the lady monologuing in front of me, preoccupied with the task of not committing homicide. But as I stand, shaking slightly, she becomes more difficult to tune out.

"Alright! Now, who wants to be the first volunteer to come give Funnie a hug!"

What?

Oh god. Oh no. This is not good. A small child, wiping his nose on his sleeve, walks up towards me with the arrogance of a peacock. He's on the stage. He's getting closer. Oh no. Oh no.

Goop becomes even more frantic, squirming around in the forefront of my- of our- mind. The kid's at touching distance, reaching in for a grubby little hug. Oh man... oh no...

He grabs me tightly, only reaching up to my torso.

Murder. Murder. Murder.

No, please, I just got a life please I don't want to-

I feel something. On my upper arm. A spike.

I never knew where the spikes came from. If I could remember who I was, maybe that could explain it. But, when it's mad, or overwhelmed, or bored sometimes Goop just... spontaneously creates a needle. Like a cactus spike. Generally a few centimetres long, beige in colour, and completely irrational.

Why would Goop need to be more lethal, anyway?

It hadn't happened in a while. I was beginning to hope it'd forgotten how.

But no: now, there's one on my shoulder, and there's nothing I could do about it until it decides to go away.

The child untangles. Somehow, nobody in the audience has noticed the spike.

"Alright everyone!" The lady yells in a voice far more chipper than I've heard her do before. "Who's next?"

No! Nobody else. If just one kid created a needle, then imagine what twenty would do. I don't fancy looking like a pin cushion.

An idea hits me on the head.

I wave to the audience to follow me, and hop off the stage. The lady starts:
"Well- uh, and now Funnie's leaving! Let's go with him!"

The children follow me like confused ducklings as I walk out the double doors of the building. Parents trail behind.

Don't worry Newton, helps arrived; hope you don't need it.