Who is Squashini – Part Two, The Dream
There was a slight chill in the pending room where I was seated. This opaque but clearly distinguishable room seemed strikingly familiar to me as if I occurred in this same exact location before. It was all the same, unchanged. The walls had paradigms of white clouds with a jovial light blue stratosphere in the background in which the lighting of the room eerily contradicted the innocent scene of the walls. A short, sturdy blue table lies before me, supporting its contents on a mirrored surface: a tea pot and cup, labeled with tiny, intricate, patterns covered the rims and handles, and stacks of magazines all neatly assorted by categories. Even though most of the space occupied on the table prevented me from fully looking at myself, I could still take a gander of my now hollowed face and turned away in disgust and decided to avert my thoughts from it. It was a bit peculiar that the magazines were in order, considering that there were no windows or doors to been seen, preventing one, or possibly a victim to see the conditions of the outside world. Not even a venting system was generously placed, so it was too stuffy for personal comfort. There was no physical way that anyone could neatly place and organize this room without damaging anything in the process. I squirmed in my chair at the oddity of this place and the stuffy discomfort of the air. I knew this was one of my strange dreams that come frequently and I really don't know the purpose or what provokes my subconscious to create such pestering, meaningless dreams like this. I am a knowingly creative individual who yearns for innovativeness. Why would I be stuck with something so inevitably simple? Surely one who lacks imagination and complexity would have a dream so similar. I began to tap my index finger, as I've encountered many limited dreams like this before. I let my now yellow glimmering, hollow orifices of eyes wonder as I waited for this dream to pass until I finally found something different in this totally indifferent room.
It was an office desk but what was so uniquely different of it was its exceedingly smaller size than most standard desks. It still had the typical items of what would be on one: pens, a stapler, applications and miscellaneous information placed in neat stacks, but it was about the size of a large rodent, somewhat to like a rabbit. Though, it was just a simple minuscule desk, I had a bit of apprehensiveness approaching it. I rose from my seat, curious, and took my first imaginary step, and then it happened. A sudden blend of purple and yellow material twirled furiously around me, creating a vibrant blur, then tangled its prehensile material, similar to yarn around my whole body, swallowing me into a fuzzy vortex. I struggled, squirmed and finally screamed, as I was forced into this unexpected quagmire. My eyes shifted frantically scanning a new environment and my brain, trying to process a way to escape and simultaneously trying to process the images before me. The prehensile yarn proceeded to entangle itself and eventually started to fuse and imbed in the temples of my head. The sight of this was truly horrifying but I felt no sort of pain nor sensed any anything that was penetrating my orange skull. The hex or whatever it was started to take effect as my whole body was transforming into a soft fabric material. My clothes, however, did not change. Before I could process what was happening, the portal suddenly stopped, my eyes were blinded by a new radiant light and had to adjust to see a vast land that consisted of cloth, textiles, fabrics and yarn as though it were an animated tapestry and my now fabricated body was standing in front of some being who was slightly taller than I and was completely made out of yarn, with the exception of his nose, that was a button. He wore a large poncho and sombrero and held two incredibly large knitting needles with fiendish like expressions carved into each. Their eyes illuminated an ominous yellow and purple, coincidentally similar colors of the portal. Loose yarns were wrapped around them, resembling hands on the strange new creature.
I stood frightened until I noticed a strange assessor y that was located on his necklace. A sock. I stared curiously at the ridiculous thing he was wearing and wondered how someone could possibly walk about in that hideous attire. The thing peered back at me with its opalescent, sinister eyes, sensing my incredulous stare and twitched what it appears to be his mustache in agitation. A mature voice that belonged to a male with slight arrogance churned in.
"Welcome, my guest. Why, I happen to notice that you now gawk at my new prized possession; incredibly rude, but flattering." The creature levitated an inch closer.
I opened my rigid mouth to retort but was immediately interrupted when he again spoke but with a colorful chuckling introduction.
"And yet, I already know what your questions are," he teased humorously.
"How did I get here? Where am I? Who are you? What is your purpose of bringing me here? And the most ridiculous of all: are you a god? HA! Do you believe the ignorance of these people?" He twirled himself around, twirling his poncho with him making an elegant stance, with the exception of his….clothing.
"Of course, I am a god." He slurred his voice dangerously low but still contains its richness. His narcissistic nature annoyed me so and the questioning of my intelligence formed a heating boundary between us quickly. I admit, this seemingly omniscient figure was quite intimidating but I would not let him stop me from forming any responses. I scoffed at his disgustingly huge ego, narrowing my eyes at him with disdain.
"What makes you, an impetuous, grossly dressed fool like yourself, a god?" I spat my words at him. The levitating figure turned around immediately, as I predicted, with an expression so irate and full of contempt.
He swung one of his knitting utensils at me and pointed it into my direction. "Fool, do you even know who you are dealing with? I could have your body decenagrate at this very moment and yet you unwisely choose to patronize me, the powerful Amibo Amore?"
The thought of being desinagrated was horrifying but was completely unrealistic; still, I chose not to take any kind of risk dealing with this unpredictable wretch.
"Do you still care to tell me why you brought me here? Or are you too lost in your capacious, egotistical, shell to tell me?" there was a tiny tremble in my voice and I couldn't hide it.
A sinister cackle egresses from his lips. "Such a stubborn and narrow-minded soul, perfect for what I've assigned you for, you see, I have partaken a mission to finally prevail over Dreamland. My minions, sadly..." he paused to cover his ghoulish smirk, pretending to choke up tears. He turned his back to me, falsely regaining his composure and continued.
"didn't meet my expectations in battle, there were so many casualties all because of some…thing."
I clinched my cape closer to my body, "What is this "thing" you speak of?" I questioned, at the same time, wondered if this "Amore" had some kind of psychological disorder.
Amibo turned to face me again, not saying a word, but was greeted with a stern, serious expression. "Kirby." He uttered, pressing his lips together in annoyance.
"Kirby? The name sounds rather simplistic to be..fiendish." I titled my head being a bit skeptical.
"Simplistic? Heh, I believe you are wrong. In fact, he is the main problem, preventing me from taking over Dreamland. I want him assassinated."
Personally, I felt like his private therapist jotting down information in my head analyzing and deciphering his own problems. "Yes and how do I pertain to this? This isn't my problem that I got myself into." I stated.
"Oh, of course, it's not your predicament but I chose you and a few selected others to assist me, my dear fellow and as an incentive or- reward, I will return your natural body and undo the murder you caused all due to you negligence , 'Oh, the ever so Great Squashini failed indeed' ." He grinned, knowing that that very statement irked me.
I clenched my gloved fists, wanted to fight him but I knew I needed this opportunity to live a natural life again. I mentally restrained myself from retorting anything back at him, for I not know how much power he wields and the bitter realization of him manipulating me because of his specialized power and power in authority stung- and he knew it.
"How-"I started but was rudely interrupted again by that repulsive, mocking tone.
"I don't think you would have the capacity to understand, my strange pumpkin-headed magician. You see: I am the origin of Patchland, I am its creator and thus, have the omnipotent power of a god but long ago, I was somehow vanquished by a blue knight of the Fluff heritage, the Fluffs now rule the majority of Patchland and soon after, my powers and reign dwindled. I still obtain most of my power but with the other magical sock, my power will surely double! He must be killed at once so I can prevail once again."
It was pretty obvious, this guy was insane. "What if I refuse to join your alliance?" expecting the worst results.
Amibo's grin grew wilder and this cynical behavior to every question I inquired was getting a bit foolish and irritating. He was trying my patience, this man. Before I could speak, he flew at an exhilarating speed. He was just inches from me when he placed the two sharp knitting utensils around my cranium, tugging lightly but somehow painfully at the traces of the yarn that bound me together.
"You die."