SPACE (THAT'S IN SPACE!)
Cavendish's scream continued, and he suddenly noticed his surroundings.
Gasping, he shook his fists in the air, eyes darting around in hysteria. "WEIRD CHILDREN! TAKE ME BACK THIS INSTANT!"
But there was no answer. Clearly, they would keep him here until he figured things out.
Or died. Whichever came first.
"Knowing my luck…", Cavendish muttered, frustrated with his day so far.
He just wanted to eat a freakin' donut!
Talk about upsetting the natural order or something!
Cavendish blinked, trying to adjust to the light, but there was no light…
Except from within.
…Literally. Apparently someone had installed a bug zapper inside of his chest.
"Odd.", Cavendish thought, but at the same time, this was somehow one of the less weird things to happen so far.
Almost mechanically, as if he somehow knew how to do it before, Cavendish fetched a key that was hanging by a necklace from his throat and he opened his chest to remove the zapper.
A simple task, really.
But only Balthazar Cavendish would accidentally take out his heart instead of a zapper.
Panicking, Cavendish tried to put it back in but his chest was suddenly locked, and the key was floating in space.
"Been a while, Balthy.", The heart greeted, and Cavendish yelped again.
"HEARTS CAN'T TALK!", he screamed at it.
…
"Then again, this has been one of those days…", he observed thoughtfully.
"The key, dude.", His heart pointed out, and Cavendish began swimming after it, though not without scolding it for reminding him.
"I know it's floating away! I have a brain!"
"But not a heart."
Cavendish rolled his eyes and swam after the key, not noticing the beautiful and awe inspiring constellations that flew past, not noticing the majestic planets and mysterious, mystical moons.
How could he notice them?
He had far more important things to do.
He always did.
After what felt like an eternity but was really just 2 minutes, Cavendish finally caught the key.
"Ha ha!", he laughed jubilantly, twirling it in the air, before grasping it tight.
Eyes closed in pride, he boasted to his cardiac muscle. "Take that, heart!"
But his heart was gone.
Panicking again, Cavendish began pounding the inexistent walls.
"Can anyone answer me? Do I need a heart in this… Whatever this is or not?"
A door shaped door (writing! It be easy!) opened in one of the areas of space before him, and a new face with a familiar voice (Casey, if Cavendish's brain was right, which it always was. Take that Mr. Tonsilitis of 2nd grade advanced napping!) popped out.
This face, round, clearly belonging to a heavy set built boy, smiled cheerfully as he delivered the news.
"You always need a heart, Cavendish. But to make this example work, you don't need it with you."
Cavendish nodded, pleased with the explanation. "All right! Thank you, Casey!"
"You're welcome!", Casey replied, and he shut the door.
Cavendish, then, realizing he'd just wasted his chance to escape this mad place, screamed and frantically swam to where the door had been, slamming his fists on nothing.
"Wait! Let me out! Please! I'd rather not find out! This place is cold and scary and lifeless!"
The door opened again suddenly, this time by Chelsea, another old voice with a strange face. Light was emanating from where she was standing, light so bright that it nearly blinded Cavendish now that he was up close.
"Well, considering you're Cavendish, this should be very familiar for you!"
As the door began to shut, Cavendish protested this injustice. "You naughty child! Let me in!"
Trying to stop the door, Cavendish inserted his hand to block its path, but all that did was let the door smash his hand, making him squeal with pain.
"JESUS CHRIST!", he yelled, sucking his entire hand to relieve the hurt appendage.
"…How did I do that?", he wondered, as he kept floating in space, completely and utterly alone.
For a moment,, Cavendish wondered if he really was alone.
If he had been tricked and was now spending eternity in an endless cavern of darkness and solitude.
And rather that was any different than the last 45 years.
But Cavendish wasn't alone.
"Balthazar Cavendish…", a voice echoed and echoed from everywhere and nowhere.
Cavendish's ears perked and he tried his best to hear the message.
Was someone trying to save him?
"Yes, it is I! Balthazar T. Cavendish! Are you here to resc…"
But his hopes were dashed by the invisible voice.
"You say you want to know how it all went wrong."
Cavendish pouted and scoffed. "What I want is my terrible life back! Why can't I suffer in silence like a normal adult?"
Hearing his words, he sighed, resigned to his fate. "Yes. Yes I do want to know."
"Excellent!", the voice rang out loud, and suddenly, just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared, replaced with…
"…A butterfly?", Cavendish questioned out loud, not that anyone was there to…
"Yes, a butterfly.", the voice replied.
Oh, right, never mind. I forgot about them.
And as sure as the two people present said, a butterfly was there, flapping its tiny wings in slow motion, not a care in the world.
Cavendish observed the insect with a curious glance. It was definitely odd for a butterfly: On its antennae were indendtical green top hats with goggles strapped on, just like his.
Its wings flapped incredibly slowly, almost at a standstill in the vaccum of space.
And most perculiar of all, was its color: Half the butterfly was painted grey as grey can be, but its other half was rainbow colored, so bright the colors were that they nearly illuminated Cavendish's face.
It was definitely a sight to behold.
And for a while, it was all Cavendish did; he beheld the sight for a few minutes, or hours, or days, or years. He wasn't sure. Time moved in a very funny way here.
After what must have been an eternity, the voice returned.
"If you want to find out… You must go back to the beginning. You must go through the passage of time… And find out who are you, deep down."
Cavendish was so distracted he didn't really listen.
An urge had been building up now for a while, and, carefully, he edged a finger towards the butterfly.
You see, there was suddenly a new feature on the butterfly, one that as soon as it had appeared, had caught Cavendish's eye: A button.
Two, to be precise.
The first stated one word: "Emotional."
The second also went for short and sweet and to the point: "Emotionless."
"Well, if the test is to help the butterfly, I clearly need to press the second button.", Cavendish thought, relieved that all he had to do was press a button.
This was almost too easy!
"Just a push of a button and I'll be back in no time!", he thought, and as he finished that thought, he pressed the button in front of him.
Of course, this set up a butterfly effect and he got blasted backwards onto Earth.
"AAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHH!", he let out a blood curdling scream as he began to set on fire, the atmosphere cooking him like he was a meal to be had, a Balthazar Cavendish goulash.
"…Why does that sound sort of delicious?", Cavendish wondered as he crashed down onto…
"…Snow?!"
Yes, snow!
The white fluffy powder that so often covered the world with an oddly comforting blanket was now all over the place, getting into Cavendish's clothes and inside his nose.
Sneezing, he stood up and shook it off his fingers, confused and annoyed by this new location.
"Why the hell am I here?", he thought, an odd case of déjà vu suddenly striking him.
"…And why do I feel like I've been here before?", he noted, looking left to right, but seeing only snow.
Suddenly, he was struck by two snowballs right in the kisser, and he fell onto the ground, hurting himself.
"Ow! Who threw that?", Cavendish yelled out in frustration, and wanting vengeance, he scooped up two balls of his own, searching for the culprit.
But before he could exact his revenge, the two balls sang.
Cherlyn:
Like A Snowball…
Cheryl:
Down A Mountain…
"Of course…", Cavendish muttered, more tired than angry, and he looked around, trying to understand why he had been brought here.
The explanation came soon enough: High up above him, there was a mountain top.
And on that top were Cavendish and Dakota.
Er, well, Dakota and him, he guessed.
And if their winter coats and ski equipment were anything to go by, then they were clearly skiing.
"Redundant, much?", he told himself, and he leaned on a tree, observing the event that was to befall, wondering why he was whisked here of all places.
"Here I go! Wheeeeeee…", Skiing Cavendish exclaimed with glee, only to suddenly crash down the mountain, shattering every bone in his body.
Our Cavendish was horrified from the carnage, and scared for himself: The falling Cavendish was nearing him!
Looking for somewhere to hide, Cavendish went behind the tree, and cowered in fright, his eyes shut tight.
After a few moments the screaming stopped, and Cavendish started feeling a little safer. "I guess it's over now…", he thought, but when he opened his eyes.
"IN THE NAME OF ALL WHICH IS MARK RUFFALO!"
Sitting silently in Cavendish's hands, the color already draining from its cheeks, was Cavendish's head, which had been decapitated by one of the passing branches.
Cavendish's heart stopped and he bated his breath as he slowly touched the hair on top of the head.
"…Oh my god…", he whispered, shocked at what he had just seen…
Only for an odd feeling to pass through him.
He couldn't put his finger on it at first, but he could definitely put his legs on it, as he found himself…
Moving backwards!
[Biteszadusto!]
Cavendish kept reliving the past few moments until he found himself leaning on the tree again, the fresh trauma of seeing himself die still in the forefront of his mind.
"What happened?", he asked, but the answer came from an unexpected source: Himself.
"Here I go!", Skiing Cavendish exclaimed again, but this time, Skiing Dakota made sure that Cavendish took the amateur lane.
Our Cavendish, however, was not amused. "What nonsense! Of course I could take the expert course! What would happen, would I die?"
Suddenly realizing that that was exactly what happened, Cavendish found himself asking another question: "Why the heck am I being shown this? I know that Dakota saved my life multiple times! What is the point of all of this?"
As if to answer him, the tree he was leaning on suddenly pushed him, making Cavendish roll down the mountain in breathtaking speed.
"I… SHOULDN'T… HAVE… ASKED!", Cavendish screamed between breaths as he smashed against rocks and trees and snow.
Finally, he began to sail off the mountain, and his destination was the ground.
"AAAAGHHHHHH!", he shrieked in terror, grasping in the air, looking for something to hoist him up from his sure doom.
Suddenly, his hand grasped something: A string.
"A ha!", he exclaimed, and his eyes spotted the balloon that belonged to the string.
Clinging on tight, he began to float away from the abyss, sighing in relief.
"Well, glad that's over…", he said, looking at the balloon.
Of course, it had two faces. Why wouldn't it?
"Let me guess, you sing too.", he said, and, as to be expected…
Dave Wong:
Or A Carnival…
Ed:
Balloon…
Cavendish looked down with a dry expression, and sure enough, Lard World was beneath him.
As he looked up, though, the wrong thing was at the center of his mind, as per usual.
"…Carnival Balloon and Lard World is sort of a stretch, no? It's an amusement park."
The Balloon then, of course, dropped him for being such a pedant, and Cavendish found himself crashing down to the ground.
"I CAN'T SHATTER MY LEGS! THEY'RE VERY USEFUL!", Cavendish cried, hoping some random diety he didn't believe in would rescue him from certain doom.
And, apparently, someone was listening, since instead of crashing down Cavendish suddenly started floating softly to the bottom, where he landed daintly.
After breathing a huge sigh of relief, he immediately began to complain about Dave Wong and Ed.
"The nerve of those children! Can't they take some constructive criticism? We could all use some… Except for me, of course.", Cavendish declared, ignoring the intense irony in the sentence.
Having finished his mini-rant, Cavendish began to observe his surroundings, his eyes searching for the next "pleasant" surprise.
"I wonder what I even did here. I honestly can't remember dying here."
He sighed. "Well, that was a dark thought."
Finally, he spotted himself and Dakota working on protecting a Pistachio stand, Dakota fooling around with a thermon ("Typical Dakota", Cavendish noted with a frustrated sniff) and he doing all the work, of course.
Dave Wong and Ed suddenly appeared as Cavendish turned to them to complain.
"Just a moment!", Cavendish began to complain, looking indignant and insulted. "I see no wrongdoing on my part! Dakota's messing around as ever and I'm doing all the work!"
He laughed mockingly, literally and figureatively looking down at them. "The boys back in HQ got the wrong tape, huh?"
Ignoring Cavendish's smug and haughty look, Dave Wong pointed back at the scene, which had turned into Cavendish criticizing and ordering Dakota around. "Uh, dude, like, you treat him like trash, don't you see?"
Cavendish began to look down in shame, wondering if it was true, as Dave Wong continued to give examples. "Just today, you ended up blaming it all on him, you refused to let him cheer you or himself up AND you ordered him around all the time."
"Well, he was messing about with random musical instruments!", Cavendish interjected, desperately trying to defend himself.
He had to be right! He had to! Just once could someone say that?!
"But you're partners. Partners don't order each other around, dude.", Dave Wong retorted.
"Well, listen to me, dude!", Cavendish responded, prodding Dave's nose. "Adult relationships are complex! Besides, I was more experienced than him! He's supposed to listen to me at all times!"
Ed, who had been standing silently and listening the entire time, suddenly removed a dictionary from thin air, pointing at the definition for partners.
Cavendish, who read it in super speed, scoffed, knowing he was defeated but still frantically trying to escape the hole he had dug for himself. "Well, you see… It's just… It's not exactly… Er… Uh… Um… Dur…"
Stuttering and stumbling over his words, he finally began to concede defeat to a now victorious Dave Wong and Ed. "Well… You're not…"
He mumbled the words. "100% wrong…"
And for a moment, Cavendish really did feel bad for what he had done.
The look of judgment and unwarranted anger on his face while he vented to Dakota really felt just…
Wrong.
But of course, Cavendish immediately reverted to type. "Well, whatever! Just give me a different example!"
And he crossed his arms, pouting like a child who had been told he can't have a pacifier AND tickets to The Human Centipede.
"Sure thing, dude.", Dave Wong aquieced and he pointed up to the sky.
"Look up."
Cavendish did as he was told, but not before sticking his tongue out in defiance.
Dave sighed. This was one of the harder cases he had had to solve in his short life as a delusion in Cavendish's mind.
"Now, do please turn your back to me."
"Easy peasey.", Cavendish remarked and he did so, his coat tails blowing in the wind for a moment before settling down.
Cavendish twitched his moustache and tapped his foot impatiently. "Well? Where to next in my trail of miserable character defects? I have a life to fuck up, you know."
"Almost. Just move over to the left.", Dave Wong directed, and Cavendish took two steps.
"No, wait, a little to the right."
"Here?", Cavendish asked after shimming a bit.
"Almost. Half a step forwards."
Cavendish complied with the instruction.
"Here's good?", Cavendish asked, genuinely hoping it was.
"Excellent! Now stand still!", Dave said, and he readied his foot.
"Well, whatever you say! What's supposed to hap…"
THWACK!
Dave Wong let his foot fly and Cavendish got kicked in the behind all the way up to space, screaming in pain as his lips flapped and his eyes bulged.
"…PEN!", Cavendish screamed, as he once again returned to the inky black backdrop of space.
As he flew upwards, he could see the Moon approaching, its white crater filled surface shining bright, a beacon in the darkness.
But not for Cavendish, who flew so fast he actually flew past it.
"…Whoops! Sorry!", a voice cried, and Cavendish was pulled back into the Moon's gravitational pull.
Orbiting the orbiter of the Earth, Cavendish huffed, tired of this day, this life, this reality.
Tapping his foot (…Somehow), Cavendish looked at his wrist, despite it not having a watch and he tutted impatiently.
"Well? No song lyrics that make no sense? No terrible memories to illicit feelings of guilt in me? No physical violence imparted on my being? It's almost like you're giving me a break.", Cavendish complained.
"Ask and ye shall receive!", Emery and Erika, the new voices, chirped cheerfully, and BOOM! Cavendish was now seated inside a carousel ride that was…
Well, I'll let the singers say it.
Emery:
Like A Carousel…
Erika:
That's Turning…
Geoffrey:
Running Rings…
Gevork:
Around The Moon…
"When did those two show up? I was just getting used to Emery and Erika!", Cavendish protested, only to be belted in tight, his waist getting squeezed so tight he could barely wheeze.
Suddenly realizing what the lyrics might mean, Cavendish looked up in fright at his conductors, Geoffrey and Gevork, who smiled a little too brightly as they leaned on a lever.
"…What was that part about running rings around the moon?", Cavendish asked worriedly, crouching in his seat, his index finger shaking in fright up in the air.
Geoffrey and Gevork didn't answer.
They didn't really need to, to be honest.
The lever was pulled and Cavendish's lips flapped again as he ran rings around the…
"WE GET IT!", Cavendish screamed as he ran around and around and around, like a record baby, round and round.
Finally, after 777 spins, Cavendish, whose face was even greener than his hat and waistcoat, grasped at his mouth, feeling a puke coming up.
Swallowing the vomit with much effort, Cavendish let out a yelp of terror. "Am I really going to go down as the first person to throw up on the moon?"
"Nope, but you are the first person to die on the moon!", Geoffrey pointed out.
Gevork nodded, a little too enthusiastically, which Cavendish noticed.
"Is he… Is he supposed to smile like that about my death?", Cavendish asked, alarmed.
Geoffrey stopped smiling and leaned in to whisper in Cavendish's ear. "We're all worried about him, but right now, let's focus on you, ok?"
While Gevork chuckled menacingly, Cavendish looked down to see himself on the moon, from a few years back.
For some reason, he had forgotten his helmet ("A rare mistake on my part", thought Cavendish), and sure enough…
POP!
Moon Cavendish's head burst like a balloon, and a bit of the skin stuck itself onto Cavendish, who shrieked in fright and disgust.
"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"
Suddenly, realizing that he was being watched, he cleared his throat and removed it from his person. "Ahem. I mean, oh no. A problem that is so easily solvable by the fact that I am a man who can easily tackle any challenge."
He smiled smugly, and Geoffrey and Gevork face palmed.
"Man, that is not the point! Look down, please!", they ordered, pointing down at the moon's surface.
"Oh, fine, fine, I'll look!", Cavendish begrudgingly obliged, and he resumed his attention at the rescue of his life by Dakota.
He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "What was the point of this flashback? Sure, he saved me, but I know that already."
Geoffrey and Gevork were stunned into silence, barely able to muster a sentence for a few moments.
Finally, Gevork spat it out. "Cavendish, are you serious? He saved your life!"
"And that is amazing, but it was only a few times! The way you talk about it, you make it sound like he did it every day or something!", Cavendish complained.
Geoffrey and Gevork suddenly turned into a microwave that beeped and booped, until the number 2220 flashed on its screen in neon purple.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding!", Cavendish complained, rolling his eyes. "There is no way in hell that I died that many times!"
As if to answer his question, the microwave's screen suddenly began to enlarge and expand, quickly turning into a widescreen movie theatre screen.
Cavendish's eyes widened, allowing him to notice the other changes: The space around him had turned into a dark auditorium, the sticky floor of the carousel replaced with an even sticker cinema floor, and the wooden horses before and after him now replaced with a plethora of cheap seats that weren't comfortable, yet somehow also were.
Suddenly, in an instant, he was moved to the front seats, finding two young girls, Grace and Haley, seated to his right.
"Oh, greetings!", he said, with a tip of his hat, and suddenly he found a tub of buttery popcorn on his lap, its alluring scent wafting up to his nose, tickling it.
He let out a warm chuckle. "Well, I must admit, this is more like it!"
He popped in a modest portion into his mouth and chewed it down as a commercial played.
"Oh, no! My love life is an absolute nightmare! If only my boyfriend was more attentive!", a brown haired 1950's housewife type with a black and white face and soul greeted the screen.
"If only I had…", she began to wish, when a puff of smoke rose in the air!
Suddenly, teleporting in her spotless kitchen, it's…
"NORM!", Norm, the famous Doofenshmirtz robot greeted the viewers with a wave and a monotone smile that never wavered.
"Oh, yes! My ex! He's much better!"
"Norm, the robot that replaced your current beau! Comes when you least expect it!", the announcer said.
Cavendish scowled, as did Grace and Haley.
"They always put the worst commercials before movies these days…", Cavendish remarked, earning nods from the girls next to him.
"Start the movie already!", Cavendish shouted, throwing some popcorn at the screen.
Finally, the projector began to transmit a picture.
"Huzzah! The show is about to begin!", Cavendish announced in glee, and he scarfed down some more popcorn.
However, he soon wished he'd be back with the commercials.
Playing in front of him, in gruesome and intense detail, was every single death he had ever gone through.
All 2220 played in eye popping 3-D (which was weird, seeing as Cavendish didn't have 3-D glasses), and each one made Cavendish jump or flinch or instinctively place a hand on the damaged body part displayed on the screen.
And of course, every single time, Dakota had saved him.
For Cavendish, it was eye opening, and not just because of the quantity (that really was 2220 times).
Through every decapitation, through every explosion, through every bone shattering, organ combusting brain splitting cow milk induced death, two constants were present:
"I am really accident prone.", a confession that Cavendish would never have made before, so that was a step forwards!
And…
"…Dakota really saved me every time…"
One could hear the mixture of shock and awe in his voice as he uttered the words, the projector screen light reflecting off of his single tear in the dark.
For a moment, it was just him and Dakota, as the man he adored said "It's Cavendish: What are you gonna do?"
Cavendish let the words echo in his mind as he stared down at his hands: Weak, clammy, pathetic.
"Not a man's hands…", his Father broadcast in his mind.
"Dakota… Dakota really did save me every time."
It wasn't that he didn't believe that Dakota could: It was just so…
Enlightening.
"Dakota always wanted to save people. This job was his only way."
By now, Grace and Hailey were listening attentively, looking encouraged, as the credits rolled.
Cavendish let out a sigh, his sights still set on his hands.
"And he was willing to lose that, to lose the one thing that made him feel like a somebody…"
He whispered the final two words, feeling a pang of pain in his chest.
"…For me…"
The thousands of deaths crossed his mind, each one painful, but not as much as Dakota risking it all, sacrificing it all for him.
And what did he give him in return?
One measly thank you.
Just one.
Dakota had given him life…
And all Cavendish had done was steal his.
Suddenly, he felt very cold.
He felt…
Ungrateful.
It felt…
Unearned.
He looked hard at his hands, as they shook and clenched, his nails digging into his palms, scratching the weak flesh.
What had once seemed so perfect, now felt…
Lacking.
"…Could I ever do that? Could I ever do that for him?", he asked no one, his voice empty and lonely.
A moment of realization passed him, a moment of self awareness.
He wouldn't be here now, having a mental breakdown in the middle of nowhere with two stranger pre-teens, if it wasn't for Dakota.
He sighed morosely, honesty for once appearing on his face.
"Am I really such a jerk?"
Suddenly, as the final credits rolled, a post credits scene began playing.
Cavendish looked up, but with not much interest, his concionsce still plaguing him.
How could he have taken something like that for granted?
Was he right or wrong in his conduct with his partner?
With life?
For a moment…
Cavendish wasn't sure.
Meanwhile, numbers flashed on the screen, grabbing his attention away from his self loathing.
3…
2…
1…
"A countdown? I must say, that's a little…", Cavendish started complaining, but Cavendish couldn't finish his criticism: His seat ejected him and he was bombarded towards the Earth.
"TRIIIIPPPEEEEE!", he yelled out, but his nitpick was drowned out by Grace and Hailey singing the next two lyrics.
Grace:
Like A Clock…
Hailey:
Whose Hands Are Sweeping…
And as he continued to fall, two skydivers joined him: Harrison and Jamal.
Harrison:
Past The Minutes…
Jamal:
Of Its Face…
As he kept cascading down and down towards his home planet, Cavendish, despite his moment of clarity, couldn't help but grumble.
"Am I just going to be flung from place to place all day?"
Finishing the sentence, he got to be flung to something that wasn't a place: A giant wall clock.
As he collided with the humongous clock's face, Cavendish averted his face and eyes, bracing for impact.
Instead, something altogether different happened: The clock didn't break.
And after a moment's inspection, Cavendish saw that he didn't break either!
"A ha! In your face, physics! Even your rigid laws can't face up to the mighty Balthazar Caven…"
But Cavendish would not finish his boasting.
In fact, he'd once again scream the end of a sentence whilst flying in space, because Cavendish didn't break the clock…
He just stretched it.
Yes, Cavendish was so busy elevating himself to a pedestal that he hadn't bothered to notice that he was slowly stretching the clock and its face, as if it was a slingshot, with him as the projectile.
And by now, he'd have stretched it enough to be sent soaring once more.
Realizing this, Cavendish took one dry glance at the screen.
"Mama mia…", he uttered, and "HERE WE GO AGAIN!" was harmonized as Cavendish was shot back in super speed, breaking through a long row of floating wall clocks, each shatter making a tick or tock sound, each break changing the time around him until…
FLASH!
Opening his eyes from the brightness, Cavendish could just about see a black and white photograph with smudged corners, slowly enveloping his line of sight.
All he could see was the photograph, which depicted him and Dakota once again.
But this time, it wasn't just Dakota being mistreated.
It was also Milo.
Jemma:
And The World…
Jim (Student):
Is Like An Apple…
Karo:
Whirling Silently…
Kris (Not Ours):
In Space…
FLASH! After FLASH! Occurred as Cavendish was forced to relive some of his worst moments, as he was forced to see himself deduce that a 13 year old boy was an enemy spy preventing him from being happy, to see himself try and arrest said boy who was busy doing kinds acts, to see himself go after aliens with no experience or hope of success, leave Dakota to suffer alone and end up being frozen in space for who knows how long, almost dying and making his closest ones lives worse by every mean…
And all that, all that pain and suffering and poor decision making…
Because his stupid little ego was hurt.
Cavendish could barely stand to see and he averted his gaze, choosing instead to fixate his attention at a constellation that looked like a pro wrestler bear named Ursa Major Pain.
Had he really done all that just because he needed to feel important?
Had he really done all that because he couldn't stand the thought of being…
Not good enough?
Was he really that selfish?
Cavendish had nearly lost it all, and had nearly ruined Dakota's life, all because he wanted to feel important.
Well, one thing was for sure: He didn't feel very important now.
Suddenly, Cavendish stopped flying, and he was caught by a colossal baseball glove, the catcher on the 1st base being Logan.
The rest of the bases were filled with Mabel (now with a drum), Maddie and Malee Muns, who all held humungous gloves of their own.
A bead of sweat trickled down Cavendish's brow as these four continued the song:
Logan:
Like The Circles…
Mabel:
That You Find…
Maddie:
In The Windmills…
Malee Muns:
Of Your Mind…
"Well, Cavendish? Do you get it now?", Logan asked hopefully, and 3 voices harmonized in a very creepy and monotone way.
"Yes, Cavendish… Do you get it now?..."
Cavendish looked down in shame at first.
Had he really been so selfish, so stuck up, so obsessed with being perfect, that he had done all that?
Had he really never thanked Dakota properly?
Had he really treated him like trash?
Had he really been so egotistical that he would go as far as to blame a 13 year old boy for his own mistakes?
All these things felt like too much, the potential failure scared Cavendish. It was like a weight to bare that Cavendish just couldn't muster the strength for.
So instead, he didn't muster the strength…
And he went for the route that saved his face.
Unfortunately, he was still all too concerned with looking good.
Unfortunately, Cavendish still couldn't face the facts and see that he was wrong.
"No!", he shouted suddenly, startling the four kids on the celestial Baseball diamond.
Cavendish glared with fierce intensity, trying his hardest to defend himself, to make himself feel less crap.
"I did nothing wrong! Dakota is a screw up and the aliens had to be stopped! Milo could have been a spy! And I did thank Dakota! One thank you is enough!"
Cavendish didn't really believe any of that…
But he just had to!
He had to be better than this!
…Right?
"Cavendish, you know that that's not…"
But Cavendish would not heed Logan's words.
"I AM GOOD ENOUGH! MORE THAN THAT, I AM PERFECT! IT'S THE WORLD THAT IS WRONG, NOT ME!"
The screams may have been intended to be "masculine", but the hot tears that streamed down his face were definitely not part of the intended model, his red cheeks and puffy eyes betraying an all together different picture than intended.
"I… I am not wrong! I… I can't be!", Cavendish cried, and Logan and the girls shook their heads at each other.
"He's still in too deep.", Logan declared.
"…Then maybe it's time for a different approach. A more personal one.", Mable offered thoughtfully, and she grabbed Cavendish from Logan's hand, letting the grown man squirm in her palm.
"Let me go! You can't convince me! You never will!"
"Oh, that's ok, Cavendish!", Mabel reassured. "We won't convince you!"
Cavendish took a moment to digest this new information, surprised by the speediness of that surrender, and a satisfied grin appeared on his face.
"Well, now! Finally, some common sense!"
Mabel smiled too, before lifting a pair of cymbals, their glint catching Cavendish's eyes, as he began to float in open space again.
"You'll convince yourself!"
And with those words said, a resounding CRASH! Could be heard as Cavendish began to literally fold into himself, body parts twisted and turned and shaped until he was…
"An Origami Swan! YAY!", the enthusiastic cries of children could be heard echoing in the distance.
Cavendish got refolded, now resembling…
"Stewart Lee Udall, the 37th Secretary of The Interior, serving between 1961-1969! YAY!", the children cried in manic joy.
"…I don't get it…", Cavendish commented, sort of. His voice was muffled thanks to all the folds.
And then his voice disappeared completely, since he got folded into himself so much that he disappeared into himself.
"Metaphorical symbolism for self introspection through literal presentation! YAY!", the kids roared in approval.
Meanwhile, in the morally grey depths of his soul, sinking into himself, Cavendish found himself in a pool of time, swirling down the drain into his beginnings.
As the murky waters slurped him up like a red white striped straw, Cavendish could just catch faint chanting with his ears.
Somewhere, far away in the distance, the monotone voices of children exclaimed over and over "!euglorp sit sap s'tahW" "!euglorp sit sap s'tahW" "!euglorp sit sap s'tahW", over and over, echoing in Cavendish's mind like a thundercrash.
And then he found himself underneath the earth's surface.