Fate Called Me A Pussy

Chapter 12

After what felt like a good hour of searching through every drawer, cranny and hay mattress, I began to smell smoke.

At first, I brushed it off as coming from one of the many candles or fireplaces that were dotted around the castle. However, after hearing worried shouts from down the hall, and the smoke became thick enough to be visible, I knew something was up. Something unwelcome.

"Search every inch of this castle and bring out the nobles!" I heard get shouted down the hallway from the current bedroom I was in.

Oh brother.

I quickly shut the drawer I was finicking through, taking a peak out into the hallway. Black smoke danced along the ceiling, burning my lungs like a motherfucker. I quickly ducked back into the room to look for a small piece of fabric to block out toxins from the smoke.

I might be an idiot, but I'm not dumb.

Rifling through the creaky, wooden drawers, I frantically pulled out corsets, containers of white powder, wigs and- men's underwear. It was small enough the hold over my face, but a stroked a gag when I brought it close. Oh god, it reeks! I sent a middle finger to whomever mainstream god, or even Fate herself, was watching and held it in-front of my face, then got down on my hands and knees. I began to crawl back towards the party, hoping that one of the many guards that lined the walls like a fresh coat of paint could help with the situation.

Smokey The Bear did not prepare me for the men hiding in the fog of toxins, pitchforks and torches being squeezed tightly in their big, rough hands. At first, I was moseying on down to the party, minding my own damn business. Then suddenly, a scuttle of shoes scraped the floor from behind me. I twisted to face them, but saw nothing. Suddenly, the same step pattern jingled from the side, and sooner rather than later I heard footsteps coming from everywhere. I continued to press the underwear to my face, soldering on. Sometimes the noises would get so loud, so close, I would shut my eyes tightly, afraid of what I might see if I kept them wide open.

The old man interrupted my story, placing a hand weakly on my bruised and battered shoulder. "Kid, is this a comedy or a horror book?"

I smirked at him, the power of humour coursing through my veins. "You're right, this is a comedy. Let me skip a head to the good stuff then."

The old man nodded as the middle-aged one, who obviously had given up on sneaking a comeback in, took a quick glance at the neon numbers above the receptionist's desk. I allowed myself one as well, choking back a cringe as I saw how far away we still were. Now serving #69.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Internal screaming aside, I continue the already too drawn out story. "So, I reach the party, and it was a pretty bad decision to go there, but surprisingly not the worst one I've ever made...

Nobels were lined up against the wall, torches, pitchforks and even the odd bayonet rifle poking through the crowd at them. I immediately turned to go back out into the hallways, but crawled directly into a pair of boots.

A pair of boots that had legs, and as I look up and saw with my own two smoke singed eyes, an entire functional, muscular looking body. "Shoe shining, 25 cents..." I attempted, looking up at him with a half smile.

"In clothes like that? I bet you spit on boys who ask you that!" The man sneered, his balding head revealing a forehead that looked like butter got spread across it, it was so damn shiny.

With a swift kick, the man drove his foot deep into my gut, sending me a few feet back, underneath a table. I doubled over, muttering a word that I shouldn't repeat. Just in case there is a mainstream god behind that receptionists desk, I don't want to get on their bad side by saying vulgar things in their waiting room.