Tales Between the Lines

VI.8 - The Untwisting

Twisty will untwist.

The process will start with his appendices, some of which will melt into his torso, while others will transform and multiply. His body will straighten and stretch, slim down in some places and shape up in others. Orifices, at least those that won't be kiss-locked, will shrivel and shrink. The uneven number of eyeballs will even out, into a single pair, one aft and one fore. With a pop, a head will form around the orifice still engaged with the Arch-Archaeologist. The eyes will start to move across the still morphing body, like two little steamboats, churning up small bow waves and wakes in a skin turning from greenish-white into a healthy pink.*

Red hair will sprout at the top of the head and on its cheeks and chin.

Arms will grow, and legs. Uncool tattoos will unfaint on biceps. A black hoodie of fair-trade, organic cotton will happen into existence to modestly cover the unfortunate body paint. A pair of dark jeans will provide a similar benefit to the slightly hairy legs.
In short, Twisty will turn into a man.

A man who will gently touch the Arch-Archaeologist's shoulders. Their lips will disengage.

She will behold him in all his red-curled splendor, revel in the soft, round lines of his face, melt with the boyish grin on his lips, and drown in the lagoon blue of his eyes.
Feelings long suppressed under the weight of her office will surface in a rush of unexpected heat and bubbling hormones.

"Hey," she will say.

"I'm in love with your body," he'll answer.

She'll frown, unfamiliar with the 21st-century singer just reborn in her arms.

———
* The migrating eyes will have a nauseating effect on the onlookers. Some will have to fight rising bile; some will lose the fight. It will be smelly.

The Trope of Fairytale will emit a flowery fragrance of dark red roses* and take on a pink tint. The frown on the Arch-Archaeologists face will fade into a happy smile when the curly-head will decide this isn't the time to cite—or even sing—a song somewhere engraved in his genetic patterns. Instead, he will simply lock his single mouth-orifice to the Arch-Archaeologists conveniently fitting counterpart again. She will melt into his strong, hoodie-covered arms.

But Trope, in general satisfied with the outcome of its intervention, will suddenly realise there are still too many loose ends to call this a day. No way will it be able to leave the Arch-Archaeologist and her twisted new love to eternal bliss yet.

For one, there still will be seven goggling Titanians in the tent's entrance, and they will now be joined by the impatient members of the SWABM-team, wielding their tools of trade, ready to dig, unearth, and measure whatever secrets the tent will hold.

Unfortunately, the heavy duty, desert expedition issue of tent fabric and posts won't have been made to withstand the united onslaught of pressure issued by the bodies of the Titanians and the SWABM-team. Fatigued, fabric and posts will give in and collapse into a messy heap on top of the kissing couple inside.

Trope, in its misty state of existence, will escape the writhing mass of tent, Titanians and archaeologists. Soon, it will hover as a confused mist above the scene that now will attract spectators, flocking to the spectacle by the dozens.

———
* Not any kind of roses, but the dark red roses signifying eternal love and a happy ever after. Trope will be a perfectionist in those tiny details, it will even insist on fair trade roses for this occasion.

The people will untangle themselves from the remains of the tent, get up, and stand back.

Everyone will be at a loss for words, muted by the strange events and the eery, pink mist hanging listlessly over their heads.

Unseen by everyone, the Arch-Archaeologist and Twisty will still be molten into each other's arms. And the melting will proceed. So deep, profound, and dark-red-rose-powered their love will be, they'll melt and melt, not only into each other's arms, but into each other's legs, too, and into each other's torsos.

Only their heads will remain separate but now necked onto a single, joint body.
They will turn their faces to each other, exchange a quick kiss, and get up, tearing the tent's fabric with a neat stroke of their hands.*

When the crowd will see them, jaws will drop, and eyes will pop.**

What used to be Twisty and the Arch-Archaeologist will raise its arms in an unnecessary attempt to gain everyone's attention.

"I am," it will say, "Arch Twisty."

The crowd will sigh.

"I am here to command you."

The crowd will fall to its knees.***

"And this is what I command."

The crowd will be all attentive, ready to obey their master's wishes.

Arch Twisty will gaze upon the Titanians, the forlorn visitors from the cold and dark reaches of the outer solar system, bereft of their home and their women, alone on a strange planet, recognizing that Justice will need calling for.

———
* The Arch-Archaeologist will have heavy-duty nail extensions, the sharp-edged kind.
** Yes, this will be a mess and needs to be sorted out later.

*** Crushing some jaws and eyes in the process, which will make the sorting out all the harder.

Arch Twisty will consider its options. With its separate but connected brains it will envision Earth's concrete deserts of parking lots and skateparks. It will compare them to the pristine ice plains of Titan. Then it will take in the mess surrounding itself.

With a flick of its hand, it will send the SWABM-team to sort out the mess. They will dig into the job with enthusiasm and all their professional tools and skills, sorting through jaws and eyes, measuring their exact location and labelling them correctly before packing them up for further investigation.

In the meantime, Arch Twisty will address the Titanians.

"Hey, bros, do you know where we can find a decent dinner and a functional spaceship?"

The Titanians will look at each other in bewilderment.

Trope, still drifting above the scene will coil itself into a tight spiral of quivering mist, emitting unhappy vibes and grumbling about the unreliability of modern fairy dust. Then it will glance one more time at Arch Twisty, will decide this is definitely not the stuff of fairy tales, will shrug* and drift away in search of a less messy situation to manipulate. Later, a teenage girl following the proceedings with wide, unpopped eyes while masticating chewing gum, will insist Trope mumbled something like:

"In all possible fairness, on my oath as the Trope of fairytale, I'll only ever use genuine fair trade fairy dust in the future."

Of course, no one will believe her, for who in their right mind would believe a chewing gum chewing teen babbling about the Trope of Fairytales?

———
* As there will be no known precedent case of shrugging tendrils of mist, this gesture, filmed by an innocent bystander and published on UTube, will gain a record number of likes and make Trope world-famous overnight. Unfortunately, Trope won't socialise on media and thus will never even know of its unexpected fame.