The Matcha Files: The Secret Key

1. The Chupacabra and the Clones

I have walked down the path in these woods for about a mile now. It's getting to the point where I cannot find my marker in the woods, as it turned midnight a couple of minutes ago. My flashlight is on and my traps are set. I will not settle for coming back with nothing.

Rumors have it that a terrible monster lives in the woods. Legends tell of a terrible chupacabra, with red eyes and pointy fangs. It preys upon objects, especially food ones.

Unfortunately, I may be a walking snack for the murderous goat. That is, if it's even real.

But nevertheless, I had a couple of traps set behind me and currently put some in front of me. As the bushes rustle, I wonder if I should say my prayers. That's dumb, I think. I'm not going to die.

The sound gets louder. I hear a sickening crunch upon the leaves, making me sick to my stomach. I may be able to set traps, but I'm not a very strong guy. I brace myself for impact. 

"Ok, don't die..."

It's only a small bleat. I open my eyes.

It's just a plain goat. And its mouth is smeared with berries that it ate. I breath a sigh of relief.

"Just a simple goat." I pet it. It rubs onto my hand, probably seeing me as a friend. Or maybe as it's next meal. But it doesn't really seem like a murderous chupacabra.

"Ah, good boy." I don't usually say this in public. But just for this goat, I'll say it to it. "Now, to wrap up this case file."

I pull out my notebook where I put all my case files in. It's tattered and worn because I do a lot of them. In fact, it's my job to solve all these weird cases in Object City.

'CASE 654: SOLVED. Chupacabra scare turned out to be a hoax. Goat was not murderous, just hungry. PS. Goat is very cute but needs to be monitored by someone who knows animals better than me.'

I then walked back to the main office to turn in my case file. Unfortunately for me, annoyance #1 had arrived before me.

"Yo! Matcha!"

It was my roommate, Matcha Pudding. He had glasses that were tinted that costed about $200 (which he couldn't afford), the grossest scent that came from him never watching the dishes, the gold tooth he had gotten to seem "fabulous", and the finger gun posture that all creeps have before failing to get a woman to date him. Alas, he was a person to confide in. He may be gross, but he's my gross buddy.

Matcha and I are the same person, despite our personalities being completely different. We have the same dimples on the same cheek. We have the same green, piercing eyes that stare into your soul. We have the same base voice, although we sort of deepen ours to stand out. And we both share the same name of Matcha Pudding. But he is the rockstar, and I am the detective.

"Tough crowd, huh?" He held his guitar in his hand, looking at me with sad eyes. Kind of reminded me of the goat.

"You should've expected that. I had a long day, and you know how pissy I get when I'm done with a boring case."

"And you know what? I'm pissy too whenever you ignore my performances!"

"Because you're loud. And annoying."

"Awwww, I love you too."

He smiles back at me, grabbing my hand. "I wanted to go get lunch, but then your sorry butt turned up. How 'bout we get it together?"

As if. "Sure."

We head to the cafeteria in the building where we eat, sleep, and work. The chef is also Matcha. The janitor is also Matcha. Even the person eating the big sandwich in the corner is Matcha. Each person is the same as us. We have the same dimples on the same cheek. We have the same green, piercing eyes that stare into your soul. We have the same base voice, too. And we all share the same name of Matcha Pudding. Every one of us is built to not stand out. We live together, eat together, and work together. We are only built to serve our purposes. I am the detective, he is the rockstar.

I don't very appetizing to eat right now. But my roommate is eating his sandwich like it's the end of the world. I pick at the soup with my spoon. I look at all my reflection, but I only see the same man.

I wonder if the goat also was eating a lot right now. Did it run away? Was another Matcha coming to get it? Was I overthinking? Probably.

"Yuck," I eat the food.

"Naw, this shit is the bomb!" He replies as he pulls out his sheet music he's been working on. "I call it the master of all songs! Its name? 'Swimming Tuberculosis'!"

Swimming Tuberculosis? Now I've heard everything. He sings it to me. It's...really something, isn't it?

I decide to scrap the rest of the food and head up to my room. I avoid other Matchas as I go up, trying to see if I got another case. Outside of our room, I have my bulletin board set out for those who need detective assistance. It's time to take the chupacabra off the board.

I look. Was it really the last case on the board? Nothing else is on it. What do I do now?

Go to bed, that's what.

Overall, this case was pretty dull. It turned out to be fake and left me bored the rest of the day. And what did I gain? Nothing.

But that's how cases usually go. When you're living my strange life, it's easy to get worked up over nothing. It's nice just to get work. I have security, safety, and friends. I have Matcha Puddings. I am a part of a strange union, but it's my strange union.

I can hear the rockstar saying: "Woohoo! Another solo," as I lose consciousness.

Drifting off, I wonder why the best mysteries are never the ones predetermined by other people. It's always the ones under our noses the whole time. Like what the hell was up with that goat anyway?

Questions that will not be answered will be solve after a good night's sleep.