Sonicland gigolo, the second encounter
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Three morons decide that it's a good idea to clap their hands as the commercial finally ends.
The stage's changed, warped even. Comfortable armchairs have replaced the simple chairs that once were, the table's now pure-white, and weird symbols have been carved into its wooden surface.
Tails' chair is still blood-stained, however, and the narrator's still busy playing with his cards. The paperclip seems to have vanished.
"That was eerie," Tails mumbles. He suddenly decides to seat himself on the chair's left armrest. "What did that commercial have to do with anything?"
The narrator watches him tilt wildly in all directions.
"That's a question we'll never have an answer for," he forms the six cards into a pyramid, aimed for Tails. "What's your ideal future, Miles?"
He almost tips forward.
"Well," the remaining glass is snatched by his left hand, "I'd like something a bit darker, more mature. Something where people die and stay dead."
"Sketchy," the narrator whispers. The fingers on his left hand drum against the table's surface. "Give me something better, Miles." It almost sounds like a demand.
His guest takes small, slow, gulps of lemonade, then wipes his mouth on his right forearm.
"Realism," the glass is set aside. "People die, but they also stay dead. Happiness isn't always present, and depression is rife, same with gore and violence, and the tone has to be very mature, like beyond anything you've seen." Tails gesticulates wildly, like always.
"I've seen everything," seventh card, placed at the bottom of the pyramid, "but I understand what you mean. You want them to respect you, treat you like an equal."
The fox nods twice.
"Yes, yes!" he's very energetic, and snatches the glass once more, but with his right hand this time. "I'm tired of being laughed at," he slides down into the chair. A loud cough. "I want to prove that I'm just as useful and interesting as everyone else." His blue eyes fall on the narrator's hands.
"That your existence, up to this point, hasn't been in vain," eight card, placed to the left of the seventh. "But what about morals, ethics, laws, traditions, social rules, and that which is taboo?"
"I doubt that people possess, or even respect, any of those," a careful sip, followed by another one. "Try being me for fourteen years, and you'll know what I mean." He shivers, and his eyes roll around in their sockets, like he's about to experience an epileptic seizure.
"It's human nature," ninth card, carefully placed to the right of the seventh. He strokes his chin carefully, then his left hand opens to reveal the missing paperclip. "Humans are ugly, greedy, selfish, and self-destructive. They love hoarding, and guarding things jealously. If they can't have something, then no one else will."
Tails frowns.
"They have no idea how ugly they really are, or have they?" a legitimate question, a gulp of green liquid. "I mean, if they knew, then they wouldn't do this, right? They would try to improve, better themselves, so that they wouldn't be crushed when they're judged in the afterlife - right?"
It looks like the narrator's smirking.
"Wishful thinking," he places the paper clip on the seventh card. "Humans can't think that far. As long as they aren't explicitly told that what they are doing is wrong, then they will never improve."
The glass is set aside once more, and Tails looks to be in deep thought, like he's realized something horrible.
"It will never end, will it?" his obvious question falls on deaf ears, and he lets out a sharp shriek before closing both arms around his head. The fox then proceeds to writhe around in the chair like a snake.
Sobs that should never have been uttered fill the entire locale, but the narrator looks as unfazed as ever.
"Forever, Miles," he calls out calmly, "this will go on forever, until humanity is no more," he flicks the paperclip, which flies straight for the fox and hits him on the left ear. His reward is a muffled cry of pain, and the clip, surprisingly enough, bounces back into the narrator's left hand. "You'll never sleep alone. You'll never spend a day unaccompanied. You'll never escape your nightmares - the things that reach for you in the night will only grow stronger over the years."
"There must be an end to it," Tails mutters through sobs and whines. He's crawled into a ball once more, and his face's completely covered by his arms. "There must be. I can't survive this much longer."
He taps the seventh card with his right index, then leans back in his chair, even puts both feet up on the table, right next to the cards.
"Oh, there are ways out of it," the narrator calls out with a sigh. Tails immediately flips, and seats himself upright. He looks at the narrator like he's the new Jesus, "Miles. The only question is if you're willing to tread on them."
The answer, of course, comes as a shock to no one.
"Yes, yes I am," his hands place themselves on the table, and his eyes dig into the darkness surrounding the narrator's head.
A violin plays, then things fade into darkness.
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VT2 - 2006
