"Wait, you have clocks? Like, the little circular machines that go tick tock?" I say, feeling more than a little bewildered.
This would be the part, dear audience, where Boris does the unbelievable.
He just looks at me with a facial expression that can only be described as "well, duh." He finds my disbelief to be a little silly. Even, apparently, amusing.
I don't find it all that amusing.
"Doesn't it just make sense to have clocks? What's strange is that you have hearts in place of where your clocks should go. I mean, it can't be replaced! It's very inconvenient." Boris says, in a manner that suggests we're just a little out of the loop reality.
Now, the logistics of having a clock for a heart would suggest that every single person in this place is actually some kind of robot, like an android or something. If Boris, who I'm still not quite sure I trust, is telling the truth, then he too is a robot.
If you are asking yourself, dear reader, where exactly "this place" is, I can tell you that I had the same question. However, I have been paying attention to the happenings around me and I can say with (some) reservation that we are in a place called 'Wonderland'. The very same place that Peter wanted to have a romantic dinner. Unless, of course, his nuttiness went so far as to cloud his entire mind. This is highly possible. But Wonderland seems to be the best name for the moment, so it shall be that until either confirmed or denied.
"Alright, cool, so you have clocks for hearts. Wicked." Warren says with a grin, right before I say, "I don't believe you."
I look over at Ren, a little incredulously. "You actually believe this joker? People can't have clocks for hearts! At least, not people who aren't also cyborgs, or androids. Peter supposedly has a clock as well, right?" I say, turning to look at Boris. He just nods enthusiastically, a strange mixture of innocence and wicked humor in his eyes. "He was flesh and blood. I should know." Looking Boris directly in the eyes, I say this with full confidence.
Oh boy do I know. Makes me want to take a very long, very hot shower with bleach as a cleanser and steel wool as a scrubby.
At this Boris tilted his head curiously, and that same wicked humor came on full force, leaving behind that sweet innocence that could be seen before. "Oh? Just how do you know? With absolutely no reservations?"
I feel a little uncomfortable at the idea of having to explain that particular situation to Boris. I glance at Warren, who just looks like he's fighting himself over whether he should laugh at that situation or be angry about it. With a gesture of my hands, I wave the idea aside. "Beside the point, he's not robotic."
Boris just walks a little closer to me, stops, and looks at the ground for a minute. He appears to be thinking, struggling within himself. He seems to come to a decision too, because he lifts his head and says, "I can prove it!"
"How ya gonna do that, smart one? Dig it out of your chest? Show me your ticking pulse?" I say, skeptically. He starts to walk right up to me, and I take a step back. I look at Warren, who's just watching the scene nonchalantly. Completely unconcerned by what's taking place. Whatever that may be.
Boris just simply shakes his head, a Cheshire cat grin widening on his face. Full of humor.
He eventually comes close enough for the both of us to be chest to chest.
At this point, dear reader, you may be wondering why I didn't continue to back away from the man in front of me. I will tell you that it is because.
Well.
I don't rightly know.
Somehow, my brain is telling me to get away. I don't know this man, I have no idea what his plans are for us, and he wears a funny pink boa and cat accessories. My heart, however, my gut, is telling me that I can trust this cat man. So, I stand stock still, deciding the best course of action is to wait and see what he's going to do. If he does something I don't like, he gets to find out what I've been doing with my life back home.
Boris, now chest to chest with me, lowers his head just a little, bringing his face very close to mine. So close I can smell his minty breath and see rich brown flecks in his golden eyes. This makes me catch my breath a little bit. Partially because he's drop dead gorgeous and very close, but partially because I am uncomfortable with that same closeness that makes my pulse race a bit.
"Are you going to prove your point, or continue to breathe on me?" I say.
His smile just widens even more, and he gently brings me into a hug with my head resting on his chest.
Yeah, this isn't weird at all.
"Be quiet for a minute." He says, "Then you'll be able to understand." He then adds, as an afterthought, "Also, I'm not the Joker. He lives in a different territory."
I roll my eyes but start to listen just the same. My own heart beating hard in my chest, I listen for the familiar 'thump thump' that comes from everyone's heart.
I also take note that this man is very warm and most certainly made of flesh and blood.
After a few seconds, and my own heart slowing down enough for it not to beat in my ears, I begin to hear a soft 'tick tick tick' right next to my ear.
Right in Boris's chest where a heart should beat.
My eyes probably look like they can pop out of their sockets they're so wide. "No way," I say. I lift my head off Boris's chest and move my hands to where my ear was, feeling around for a clock.
Boris starts to chuckle a bit. "I didn't think you were so forward," he says, a somewhat wild glint in his humorous gold gaze. But then he starts to full on laugh, ugly laugh, with tears streaming down his face. He has fallen to the ground at this point, but I am still searching for a clock. This time on his sides.
"BAHAHA! ROR-" He gasps for breath, then just manages to say, "THAT TICKLES!"
I cease my tickle attack, giving up on finding a clock hidden on his person.
"You really have a clock for a heart, don't you?" I say, amazed.
Boris, after catching his breath, just sits up in a crisscross apple sauce pose, his tail swishing through the air and an innocent look back on his face, though the humor that seems to be ever present never fading.
"Yep," he says simply.
"No way!" I say again, moving close and listening to his heart – clock- one more time. It didn't take long for me to hear a soft ticking again. "You're incredible!" I say, looking at Boris with wonder in my eyes. He seems a little taken aback by that, and his cheeks became a little flushed. "Warren, come here! Check this out!"
Warren strides over, looking a little reluctant to put his face right up against Boris's chest. Boris looks reluctant to let him.
I roll my eyes. "We all know you're not gay, now get it over with."
Warren let his curiosity overtake him, putting his ear right up to Boris's chest. A look of amazement comes onto his face.
Boris just has a look that says he isn't enjoying the rather intimate position I put the two in. Which is fair, considering that Ren is basically sitting in his lap to listen, and that Ren is actually pretty heavy.
Warren then stands up and opens his mouth, but before he can say anything we hear his stomach growl.
GRROOGGLLLUL
And there goes my stomach.
"Ok, cosplaying kitty, I think we are all hungry. Know anywhere good to eat?" I say to Boris, who smiles and nods eagerly.
"Home!" He says.
"Lead the way home then!" I order Boris, pointing to the right of me. He just continues to smile, and points in the opposite direction. "'Home' is that way, Rory." With that, I make a U-turn and start walking that way. "To the home of the cosplaying kitty!" I declare.
Readers, I seem to just get on with strangers like fire, thinking nothing of their untrustworthiness. Well, if you will remember back, I did say that all strangers are untrustworthy. You will be remembering at this point that I don't completely trust Boris. And dear reader, I really do not.
But I want to.
My gut tells me to.
That should count for something, right?
After walking for quite a while through the forest, with Boris in the lead, and with much talking and laughing, we finally came across a path. Stepping onto it, we look around, and lo and behold an amusement park entrance is fifteen feet to our right. Warren and I both stop in our tracks, but Boris makes a beeline towards the entrance.
"Boris…." Warren starts.
"Do you live in an amusement park?" I finish.
"Yup!" He says, exuberantly, bouncing through the gates. "They're with me."
The worker at the gates just nods. This was apparently who Boris had been talking to, though he had made no indication of doing so. I had thought he was just talking to the air, like a crazy.
Warren and I glance at each other, shrug, and make our way in. As we walk past the people at the gates, they smile and wave.
"Warren," I say.
"Yeah," he responds, seeing exactly what I see. "They don't have any distinct facial features. I noticed too."
"It's a bit unnerving." I say.
"Yeah." He replies.
We catch up to Boris, who is waiting for us in the middle of the walkway. "Welcome to the Amusement Park. This is what I like to call 'home'. A couple pieces of advice for you. Do not ask the boss for his full name. Do not let him play the violin." Boris meanders away from us for a moment, up to a hot dog cart, and grabs a dog for each hand. He swaggers back to us. "However, if you'd like to know what his name is, I could always tell you." He had a Cheshire cat grin on his face again and a mischievous glint in his golden eyes.
I take my dog from his hand, and he gives Warren the other. As I start to dig in, my curiosity gets the better of me. I just have to ask.
"So, whaf iz i'?" I question around a mouthful of hot dog.
"Well," Boris starts, "His name is M-"
BANG
"How many times must I tell you, cat, that information isn't to be spoken." A man who looks to be in his thirties comes up to us holding a violin. I think I can safely say he is the boss, because of the violin in his hand. Of course, the fact that he doesn't want anyone to know his name is another give away, but we won't worry too much about that.
"What the heck is wrong with you people?! Why do you keep shooting in my direction!" Warren shouts to the sky.
The boss and Boris both look at him.
"He's been shot at three or four times today." I say unsympathetically. "Really, it's a miracle he hasn't fainted yet."
The boss just shook his head and stuck his hand out in front of me for a handshake. "Allow me to introduce myself." He says as I extend mine for a firm handshake. "My name is Gowland."
"First, or last?" I say, releasing his hand.
"Both." He responds, discreetly trying to shake out his hand. I guess I held it too tight. "I have no first name."
"You just lied," Ren says accusingly, "Boris was telling us your first name."
BANG
"I'm just kidding! You totally told the truth." Warren says, the pitch of his voice higher and a tad squeakier than usual.
"He's right," I interject, "You totally just lied."
BANG
"Hey!" I say. "Why are you shooting at me?!"
"You refuse to believe me. I have no first name!" He exclaims, as if shooting people is just part of his daily routine and not a matter of life or death.
"I thought the people here were supposed to be madly in love with us…" I say to Warren out of the corner of my mouth.
"Ror, no one has been madly in love with you for your entire existence. I don't think it's about to start now." He replies. Boris seems to perk up at this, taking a special interest in the conversation now. Gowland chuckles at his comment. I smack Warren on the back of the head. "No one has ever been madly in love with you either, dimwit," I remark.
"How about I play a song on my violin to welcome the new role holders?" Gowland says hopefully.
"No, no, I think we're good." Boris replies, frantically trying to stop him.
"There needs to be a song played, Cat! Or I'll just have to convince them to leave my property!" Gowland says, fingering his violin as if it has a trigger he can shoot us with. Warren and I just look at each other, knowing that we need more information about this world before we can go anywhere else.
Warren decided to speak up at this moment.
"Does it matter who plays the song?"
Gowland and Boris both look at him, again.
"Well," Gowland scoffs, "If someone else knew how to play, sure. But where will you find some-"
"Maybe I could play instead?" Warren interrupted, his voice gaining some strength and taking on its usual confident timber.
"You can play the violin?!" Gowland exclaims, surprised. As if he expected no one else in the universe to be able to play other than himself.
"Well, a bit," says Warren, a little embarrassed. "I enjoy it. Do you think I could give it a shot?"
Gowland looks at Boris and asks, "Can these two be trusted?" Boris stares at us for a second, his eyes lingering on me, before nodding his head wildly. So much, in fact, that it looks like it will give him whiplash. This makes me wonder whether Boris actually thinks we can be trusted, or if he just wants Gowland to hand his violin over.
"Yes, you should definitely let him play." Boris says. Yeah, he just wants him to hand the violin over.
Gowland shrugs, defeated, and hands Warren the violin.
"Here ya go kid, knock yourself out."
Warren puts the violin up to his chin, brings the tip of the bow up to the strings, and starts to play. We hear a horrendous sound come out of the instrument and see Ren frown.
"Have you even bothered to tune this properly?" Warren asks Gowland, his demeanor morphing into that of a professional as he begins to tune the violin one peg at a time.
"Well, no." Gowland replies, a blush appearing on his face.
Warren also inspects the bow. "It's too tight." He notes, adjusting it to a looser and more relaxed state,
Gowland's blush intensifying at his words.
"Do you have rosin?" Ren asks.
Gowland's entire face is now tomato red, with ears to match. "…What's rosin?" He asks.
"You never actually learned how to play, did you?" Warren says kindly, thought the answer is obvious. Gowland never did learn.
"Can we just get on with the performance?" Gowland growls.
Warren answers by putting the violin back in place, bringing the bow just above the bridge, and starting to play. Sweet, melodious music starts to make itself apparent. Gowland listens, seemingly entranced.
The faceless workers stop what they're doing to listen and enjoy the prodigy's work. A musical genius, that Ren, and his tools are his instruments. And everyone in the immediate area knew it.
"Ren has been playing since he was very young." I say quietly to Boris as Warren plays. "He's actually very good. I keep telling him that he should audition for the symphony, but he's too shy. He always freaks out." I leave out all of Warren's other problems. Those are his to share.
Boris looks at Ren, perplexed. "Why is he playing for us then?" He asks.
I smile and watch Ren as he reaches the tail end of one of his favorite pieces.
"Do you remember how you were telling Gowland that we can be trusted? Did you mean it, or were you just trying to give the violin to Warren?"
Boris looked a little sheepish at this. "I wanted him to give up the violin." He says. He turns his attention away from the music to look at me though, an intensity in his eyes showing a sincerity not previously present. "A cat's instincts are never wrong. Mine were saying you are trustworthy. And…." He stopped to really look into my eyes, as if to silently make a point. Gold met green, and his gaze was so bright it almost hurt. "I want to get to know you better." I smile at that, a full toothed smile. He turned his head back to Warren, rubbing the back of his neck and clearing his throat.
We stand quietly for a moment, listening to the violin.
"In the same way that you believe us to be trustworthy, Ren believes you to be. He considers himself among friends, which is why it isn't too difficult for him to play even in front of this crowd of twenty." I speak, I little out of the blue. "He doesn't have many friends, but he can usually tell right away who's worth it." I say, giving a side long glance to Boris. "So, don't do anything to betray that trust."
Boris narrows his eyes at me, but then gives that mischievous Cheshire cat grin that he's made all his own.
"I'll make sure to let him know just how trustworthy I am." He says.
Readers, don't worry, my senses and instincts have not dulled because of the beautiful man next to me. I did, in fact, pick up on the ominous tone of his words. Whether intended like that or not, is another story.