We finally finish the movie and turn off the TV. We lost all concept of time whilst engrossed in the real fake reality of probable realness. I look down to check my watch. I don't have a watch. Don't question me!
I rise from my seat atop the majestic bean bag and look down to see Lauren and Michaela sleeping in a messy heap of popcorn kernels and blankets. Not wanting to disturb them, I carefully step through the mine field of yet-to-be-cracked-and-make-a-ton-of-noise popcorn pieces and go towards the door. It finally has a door knob again. I'm still not sure how or why those living door knobs attacked us or where they are now.
Oh well. What's the worst that could happen with hidden ninja door knobs thirsty for blood?
Before I reach the door, the knob slowly turns on its own. The door creaks open and before me stands the otters. They all carry milkshakes of various, probably semi-plot-important flavors and proudly wear milkstaches on their furry faces. We stare at each other in tense, uncomfortable silence. I wait for them to make a move first. My fingers twitch with anticipation next to my holstered sharpened drum sticks and also my probably-a-better-option gun.
Several seconds later, one of them speaks: "Greetings, young one. And to what do we owe the pleasure of finding you here?"
"We need to know the truth about Phil!" I shout at them. We are literally two feet apart, making shouting pointless, but screw the system!
"No." is their simple response. They begin to push past me into the room, knocking me to the floor.
"I didn't want to do this, but you've forced my hand..." I menacingly say.
The otters turn around, fear, confusion, and even mockery in their mammalian eyes. "And what is that, puny human?"
I don't answer. Instead, I pull out my infinite balloon bag, grab a balloon, and make a terrifying creation that depicts a snail. This alone is enough to make the whole probably evil group of mammals begin shaking in fear.
"Now, tell me what you know," I say.
"Alright, alright! We are the ones who created Phil. We were sick of the government constantly giving us boring projects and experiments to do so we went off on our own, after harmlessly killing all 737 of them who defied us, and we began doing our own experiments. We wanted to do work that would actually benefit society in some way. Phil was our 73.7th experiment," the explanation tumbles from the raven-colored otter's mouth. He stands with his head held high and a gleam of confidence is visible in his not-so-gentle eyes. I presume he is their leader based on these tell-tale signs.
"Well, why did you have to give me that plant?!" The words suddenly explode from my mouth. "Do you realize how much chaos and devastation Phil has caused?! And for what? An "innocent" experiment meant to help society?! Well, guess what? Your experiment, however it was meant to benefit people, is a miserable failure, and the destructive havoc wreaked by that cursed plant is your flipping faults! End rant."
"Well, it's your fault that Phil was allowed to gain enough power and freedom to ruin everything! If you raised him better, you wouldn't be in this mess!" The ringleader fires back.
"At least my mother can make decent milkshakes. Your mom's milkshakes are only good for centaur poison!"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Everything."
"You know what? This argument is going to get nowhere so we may as well both shut up."
"Fine."
"Fine."
With arms crossed, I turn to face Lauren, pointedly swiveling to keep my back to the menace.
The black otter lets out an angry huff, and the whole room is silent.
YOU ARE READING
The Probable Phil Chronicles
ЮморTime has collapsed. The rules have been rewritten. Danger is everywhere. Trust is weak. Chaos reigns. The only thing that will save you is your ability to accept it and move on.
