Boiling Through Time The Tragedy. Sequel to The famed Hamlet

Holiest Kraft

Horatio found himself surrounded by a crowd of short stocky creatures all in extremely fashionable clothing with trunks of all different sizes. One of them grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him to his feet where he towered over the creatures. It made a congested sniffling sound and looked at him expectantly. When Horatio didn't answer a few more of the creatures made the same snuffle grunt gesture and stared awaiting a response.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand." Horatio apologized, kneeling down to their level. He imagined if a giant magically appeared in front of him not being able to speak his language he might be rather frightened, so he did his best to look unintimidating.

As he knelt down his macaroni necklaced dangled around his neck catching the attention of the crowd sending them into a fit of gasps and awes. One of the creatures came shoving through the crowd and carefully examined his necklace. Horatio assumed he might be an older member of their group for his eyes and trunk were drooped and wrinkled with white hair sprouting from his ears and chin. The older one grunted something to the others after inspecting the necklace and shortly after Horatio's hands were grasped by the trunks of two of the creatures. The entire crowd began leading him along a path towards a large castle towering over the field they were occupying. Even from there Horatio could make out large boxy statues near the castle as well as ones resembling what he thought might be pasta.

Along the walk Horatio considered just exactly what might be going on. After an hour or so of consideration his understanding was the same as before. Without any direction he could only fall back on his brief conversation with the Monxorians. He was hesitant to let his hopes up. If he did, if he let himself hope he could truly go back in time and save Hamlet as they had told him, he would never be able to recover from the heartbreak if it was untrue. But he couldn't help but think about the possibility. All the regret and guilt he was holding for not having stepped in and told Hamlet how he felt would fade. He could actually have everything he wanted, he could be with Hamlet and they could live out their lives together. Hamlet would receive his confession warmly and return it, the heartache Horatio had felt for so many years of concealing his love would be lifted away. Horatio made up his mind then. If there was any chance, any possibility of saving Hamlet he would do it. It didn't matter the cost, he would fight for him until his last dying breath if that was what it took.

Soon they reached the gate of the castle. The closer he got the more details he could see in its intricacy. It was entirely made of carved macaroni noodles and a single repeated word, "Kraft". The gate opened with a rusty creak, and they made their way through the courtyard. The large box-like statues he had spotted from a distance were exactly as they seemed. They were just ginormous boxes with the phrase carved into them:

"Kraft

macaroni & cheese

DINNER

smmmile,

It's the cheesiest

original"

That phrase was carved repeatedly along anything which it could be inscribed. They entered the castle into an expertly crafted dining hall, the ceiling painted in clouds and steaming mac and cheese, stained glass of holy light and the word Kraft with splashes of blue. A mural of crowds and crowds of the snuffle grunt creatures bowing down to a blue box on a pedestal. Light was cast down at the end of the hall, and the mural was recreated. The trunked creatures bowed down, tugging Horatio with them. He looked up to see the same phrase as before written on a blue and yellow box. Soon the room filled with the loud snuffles and grunts from the creatures until a booming voice silenced them.

"Kraft!"

The voice echoed from the blue and yellow box, the box emanated power and authority so much that even the brave Horatio trembled slightly where he stood.

Horatio was led by the eldest snuffle grunt creature away from the kneeling crowd up to the blue and yellow box. The snuffle grunt creature conversed with the Box in a slew of grunts the box returned only with the singular repeated word, "Kraft". Then Horatio was left in front of the pedestal alone with the box. The box spoke again, but this time while Horatio still only heard the word "Kraft", he somehow understood an entire sentence from it.

"You come in search of time travel?" the box asked.

"I do."

"Then I suppose you are willing to make a deal with me hm?"

"I will do what I must to go back to my Hamlet." Horatio declared. He had already made up his mind, there would be no obstacle that would stop him.

"Tell me about this, Hamlet..." The Box questioned.

So Horatio did. He spent the next three hours telling the Box the story in great detail. The betrayal, the revenge, the pain his dear Hamlet went through. Told it about his love for Hamlet and his quest to save him and win his heart. By the end of it the Box announced he had entertained him thoroughly enough to give him a chance.

"But there is a condition." it warned. "If you fail, if this Hamlet does not swoon, you will face my punishment."

"Punishment?"

"Yes. A punishment of my choosing, one likely lasting eternity."

"But why? What would that do for your gain?"

"It's very boring being a box, separated from my true form. But I love the drama and heartache. It's the best entertainment, the woes of the soul." The Box was quiet for a moment, thinking of all the dramas and tragedies it had witnessed. "Well, do you agree or are you wasting my time?"

Horatio contemplated for a moment. The possibility of eternal punishment was not something he could say made him feel at ease. But the possibility of holding Hamlet in his arms once more washed his fears away and he agreed.

"Fabulous!" The Box cheered. Then his lid opened up and he tipped off the pedestal, his uncooked pasta innards falling out then animating to the likes of octopus arms. It clawed his way to Horatio before rising to his height and presenting him a single piece of macaroni.

"Eat this and you will be transported to the time you seek. I will give you until nightfall. If you are to fail, you know what will come."

Horatio took the uncooked pasta, closed his eyes and crunched down on it before his nerves could get to him. Like before Horatio opened his eyes to the swirling of orange and yellow in the twisting tube of bubbles. Like before it got hot and the bubbles intensified until he was thrown out of the tunnel and back into his world.

He laid on the cold stone catching his breath, the slightly deflated tube still around his waist. Horatio looked around and quickly recognised his surroundings to be His room in Denmark. His chest tightened and an excitement filled him. He would see Hamlet shortly. Alive and well, the Hamlet he knew before all this mess. The Hamlet he loved. Loved... Horatio bagan to pace. Now that he was there, and it was real, nervousness overtook him. The thought that Hamlet wouldn't return his feelings had occurred to him in the past, it was actually the entire reason for not confessing to him in life. But when Hamlet had died Horatio had forgotten that fear. Hamlet couldn't reject him if he was dead, so Horatio had let his mind wander and search through the possibilities of what if. But now that fear was back and alive just like Hamlet. It crawled up from his stomach and tightened around his throat.

In Horatio's pacing he had caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and in horror he ran for the washing bowl placed in front of it. Half of his mustache was flipped upwards holding a clump of mud in it, his hair was matted and caked with twigs, mud, plants and what disgusted him most, salami. The dried mud on his skin tanning him and cracking making him look like a very abused suitcase. The tube around him was more ridiculous then he had imagined it to be, but at least it distracted from his shredded clothes. Horatio couldn't possibly confess to Hamlet looking like this, looking like how Hamlet himself had acted. Horatio wanted them to be together, but not in a ward. He spent the next three hours scrubbing away at his skin, tugging the knots out of his hair and dousing himself in any perfume he could find. The longest time was spent on his mustache. It had to be nothing less than perfect if he wanted Hamlet to accept his confession. Finally he was ready. And in expert timing, the sun was creeping towards the horizon.