Glass Dolls

Crazy Train - 1

"I've never quite been able to grasp the concept of rhetoric, I'm afraid. Of course, when you can look into someone and see their very character, it's hard for their words to sway you on what they are."

From The Interrogations of the Starlight Unra'xi held by Conductor Velvette.

Level of Refraction: -72 degrees.

"So, we're contemplating this... idea," Mold says, scratching her stomach. "From a floating 'house' that can teleport between dimensions and travel through time."

"Yes." Ego responds, his hand is poised on his front door knob.

"And you are fully aware that we can both fly? And that you can take us forwards and backwards through time at will?"

"It's about the spirit of the thing. Besides, there are some thrills you can only get careening down a freeway at 150 miles per hour."

"Fine, whatever. Let's go get a car."

"But remember!" Ego wags a spindly finger in Mold's face. "We're getting this thing for free. That's the challenge."

The house's front door slides open, revealing that it has been connected to the side entrance of a posh car dealership. You know the type, open, modern architecture. Massive glass windows running from floor to ceiling for most of the walls. Cars lining the opening walkway.

The scenery outside of the building isn't particularly worthy of the giant windows, though. Red desert stretches out as far into the distance as the eye can see. This includes those eyes that have seen the stars. The only thing that occasionally breaks up the sand and rock is a lone cactus, stretching sunward in the hopes of a freak rainshower.

The dealership is nearly abandoned, the one man inside it jumping to his feet behind his desk upstairs. He brushes the white dust off of his top lip, and looks out of his raised window at the two travelers that just entered his dealership. With a hop, skip, and a jump he's out of the room, sliding down the spiral staircase's handrail in a practiced maneuver.

The Author, watching this display, grins in delight and straightens his light blue button up. Of course, none of the buttons are... buttoned. Mold, on the other hand, rolls her eyes. She's found that all of the entertaining aspects of the people who peacock like this are usually exhausted in the first couple of minutes of conversation.

"Good afternoon, my fine gentleman and lady!" The salesman beams, "What can I do for you on a day as lovely as this?"

Mold doesn't say anything. She just twists the back end of her t-shirt in knots and waits for something to happen. The Author stays quiet for an uncomfortably long amount of time, and then makes something happen. Slowly moving his hands out from behind him, he stuffs them into his black jeans pockets and lets out a massive smirk.

"Car." He utters. Below the dealership the ground shakes, and the line of cars behind the dealer rattle violently before all of their windows explode.

"Jesus!" The dealer ducks down, his hands flailing wildly above his head. Then the shaking stops as abruptly as it started. "I told them that we shouldn't have made this thing on a goddamn fault line! I'm so sorry about that, my dear guests, let me clean up this mess real quick..."

"What mess?" The Author asks.

The car windows have fixed themselves, and the salesman wheels about, running his hands through slicked-back hair incredulously. Mold lets out an amused puff of air from her nostrils.

"Ah- um. I'm terribly sorry about my outburst." The dealer says, wondering if it might finally be time to start moderating the coke habit. "Let's start over shall we? I don't even think I've given you my name. I'm-"