an epic saga

cue the beat drop

   "What the frick frack diddily dack patty wack snick snack crack pack slack mack quarterback crackerjack biofeedback backtrack thumbtack sidetrack tic-tac toe do you mean I'm not the Chosen One?!" I exclaimed in outrage, glaring up at the frowning boy standing over me.

   He groaned, turning around and waving a small fist at the heavens, which were square ceiling tiles. "Really?" He yelled. "You can't even help me pick up the cHOsEn One right?" A small bearded man moved one of the ceiling tiles to the side, took one look at the angry bois below him, and shrugged, before disappearing again and replacing the tile.

   I pushed myself to my feet, now much taller than the boy again. "Who was that?" I asked, flighty attention diverted.

   "That's Anthony," The boy sighed dejectedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He comes and goes and doesn't do anything useful." He pulled a pair of glasses out of the pocket in his hoodie, and pushed them onto his face, suddenly appearing much less omniscient now that he wasn't squinting menacingly.

   "Who are you?" Curiosity overtook my concern for my nose.

   The boy scowled at me, and completely ignored me. "This is your fault. Ugh, I can't believe I have to fucking babysit now."

   "Hey! I'm not the one who made the shitty "Watch your step" sign," I countered, glaring down at the boy.

   "Watch your ste- What? What sign?" The boy's scowl disappeared, brow wrinkling as confusion flooded his face.

   "The- The sign!" I floundered, waving my arms slightly. "The one just through the interdimensional portal!"

   "Ohh," Understanding and annoyance tweaked his face. "No, that says "Stash your eggs". Don't ask, it was one of Anthony's jobs. And it's not an interdimensional portal, more like a special lift. We're currently three floors above the skate park, it's in this building's stock delivery area. Who are you?" He demanded.

   Awwww. I thought I was in some kind of space office :<. "My name's Eden," I conceded, voice sad.

   "I'm The Star Prince, but I guess you can call me Alex." The boy was already leaving the room through a frail-looking grey door, with a square window with wire mesh in it at about eye level. You know the ones I'm talking about.

   He turned the greasy-ass looking door handle, and stomped into the corridor, grumbling very, very not PG things under his breath.

   I sat down for a moment. Life was moving very quickly, and like usual was completely bypassing me in favour of sweeping the beautiful up in its tender arms.

   I worked on slowing my breathing. Sleep seemed a good idea at this point. Usually I'm no good at this, but apparently I was now, because I was out faster than a white "feminist" man who realises that pretending to respect women to get in their pants doesn't work, and is also realising that actual feminists have fought for too long to care about whether he was just joking or not and will take him out without a second thought.

- - -

   I woke up and my mouth tasted like absolute shit.

   "Balls," I croaked, my tongue feeling like Jabba the Hutt when he got strangled by Leia in his own party boat. It rolled and protested thickly, just damp enough to stick unpleasantly to every surface it encountered.

   I sat up slowly, squinting against the bright light above me. It flicked off after a second, and I saw a brief scuffle of movement as a bearded face and a torch withdrew quickly into a now-covered hole in the ceiling.