Two-Faced Poker Face

♢ Jokes

The man sat across from the woman in the dimly lit food court of the funhouse. The air was thick with an eerie tension as they waited for their meal to arrive. The woman wore her usual mask, her eyes hidden behind its smile. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he was being watched, that every sound and movement around him held a sinister meaning.

Their plates arrived, filled with a mouthwatering assortment of delicacies. It was mostly creamy pasta though. The tantalizing aroma of the meal wafted through the air, but the man's appetite was overshadowed by his growing paranoia. He glanced around, his eyes darting from one corner of the food court to another, searching for any sign of danger.

The woman observed him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Her hand reached to the chin of her mask and lifted it up slightly- but from the man's point of view, he still wouldn't be able to see anything apart from the bottom of her chin. She picked up her fork and took a small bite, savoring the flavors that danced on her tongue. "You seem on edge, contestant seven," she said, her voice laced with a hint of playfulness.

He forced a smile, trying to appear composed despite the unease gnawing at his insides. "Eh, it's uh... this place you got. It's... weird." His eyes widened as he realized that he didn't mean to say that out loud. "I mean-! In a good way! Like... unique aesthetic!" 

She tilted her head, her gaze fixed on him. "Yes, the funhouse has a certain charm, doesn't it?"

He nodded his head almost a bit too eagerly. Good save, contestant! Oh wow, did he really just call himself that in his head?

He would sigh as he would hold his forehead- only to come to his senses that-

"Shoot... I forgot my mask." He groaned, not having much of an appetite now that she knows he's an ugly mess of bandages. Come to think of it... she didn't mention-

Wait no, she did. She did mention them. She said to grab new bandages on the way. He stared at her. Did she... not mind that he looks like this? In fact, he could argue his bandaged face looked creepier than her own mask.

"It's alright. We can get you a new one later." She would tell him as she rested her head against her palm. He nodded his head at her comment, keeping it in mind for later. He'd then look down at the food, picking up the utensils and used them to eat and savor it.

As they continued to eat, the man's imagination ran wild. He imagined the food turning sour in his mouth, the flavors transforming into a grotesque amalgamation of tastes. He couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something hidden in the food, something malevolent that would reveal itself at any moment.

His heart raced with each passing second, his palms becoming clammy. The woman noticed his discomfort and reached out, her hand resting gently on his. "Contestant seven, remain calm. It's not poisoned."

He looked into her eyes, seeking reassurance in the depths behind the mask. 

'That's not the problem,' he though to himself, 'I'm worried the food I'm eating ain't exactly something people are supposed to eat.'

He didn't want to say that to her of course so he just... simply ate in silence. The clown would let go of his hand and watch him dine while she did as well. As the taste of the food began to rest on his tongue while his mind was at ease, he realized that the flavors from before were simply from his distressing imagination. He would continue to eat, deciding that it would be best not to over think. He was really hungry after all. 

The owner of the fun house would soon finish her plate and lock her mask back in place. He wasn't finished yet surprisingly, seemingly deep in thought.

"Some thing tells me you're hiding something from me." 

Her sudden voice from the silence made him jolt up slightly. His eyes darted towards her direction as he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Uh... I don't think I am?" In all honesty, he didn't exactly know himself. Well, there was that one time he thought about killing her with a glass shard but... he didn't find it necessary anymore. He would survey her body language. She was motionless in her seat. He found it frightening how she'd sometimes look like a wax statue of sorts. "I'd like to think I'm not... at least." 

"How are you enjoying the food?" She asked almost immediately after he spoke. He didn't mind it but he did find it odd. He looked down at his plate which was half-finished. He then turned his head back to her.

"I'm actually... liking it now that I'm more- uh... cool. Hah." 

"Really?" She seemed to have a tone of excitement in her word.

"Yeah!" He'd mirror the enthusiasm back at her, deciding to exude a bit of confidence to set aside the awkwardness. "The sauce is really good."

"I'm glad." She chuckled. He could feel a warm smile behind the mask from her voice. "I figured you and the previous contestants would get along."

"Yeah, I-!"

He paused, his laid-back expression turning into a face ripped into terror. His lips quivered as his eyes slowly landed back on the pasta covered in red sauce. He pushed the table away while also pushing himself off his chair. He clutched onto his stomach at his breathing became unsteady and abnormally quick. He would take a deep breath before gagging and throwing up on the clean floor.

The clown simply stared at him, watching him struggle to compose himself. He'd only vomit again, this time longer and there was a strained groan afterwards. His head would then snap towards her direction, a strong glare found on his face as his entire body trembled in his own embrace. He'd march towards her slowly, his lips slightly leaking of his own puke. He'd pull out the shard from the back of his pants and dashed for it, the shard jabbing the side of the woman's shoulder.

All he could see was red staining the white coat of the woman. He could feel the warm liquid trailing down his hand as he made sure to keep that shard in place- then letting it go deeper into her flesh.

...

He panted heavily, his gaze returning back to her mask. She wasn't screaming or reacting in any way. Is she...

A hand would slam him down the table, one knee pressing roughly against his stomach as the woman loomed above him. He choked, trying to gasp for air as much as he can as his eyes directly looked into the void eyes of her mask. Against the light in the ceiling... he would see a shade of amber through the depths of those eyeholes. 

"Oh my, contestant number seven... do you not know how to take a joke? You're in a fun house, after all..." She chirped, tilting her head uncannily to the side. He could feel the squishy and muddy feeling of the pasta on his back as she further pushed him against the surface of the table. "I feed you and comfort you. Is this how you show gratitude?"

He kept choking on air, clawing on her wrists as he shook his head, trying to get out of his grasp. 

"But of course... you don't even understand yourself. How can I expect you to act accordingly?" 

The man felt a sharp pain in his chest, his entire body feeling like it was burning into ashes. His vision grew more blurry by the second as his eyes could simply her stare down at him.

'How funny...' He thought. 'I remember doing this to someone else...'

He closed his eyes, the sound of children laughing echoed through his mind. It sounded like... they were on the playground... playing tag.

'I wonder... if I had... a childhood like that...'

She watched his hands lose their grip on her own. Once his body fell completely limp, she'd let go and check his pulse on his wrist.

"He's still alive." She hummed, looking over to his bandaged face. "You're stronger than you look. I am curious... if it relates to the color of your skin..." 

The loud sound of a metal object falling to the ground could be heard from afar.