You knew there was something wrong. You knew because I knew and you knew how wrong it was because of how wrong I felt. Could I explain it? Nah, not really. I didn’t know the circumstance or whatever, or even how to describe the feeling of it. Just…everything was wrong. Everything in my bones, in the air, in the earth, in the water—it flowed and moved and the wind blew and my heart beat and my lungs breathed and my ass farted and it shouldn’t have been.

It was growing inside me—the pissed, the helpless frustration with this wrong thing. I didn’t know what was happening (except I did, deep, deep down in a glowy place) or how I could fix it or even if it needed to be fixed, I dunno. It was up in the air and I was down on the ground fuming at everything, angry and restless and itching all over my skin—and you hated seeing me like that.

So you made me a present.

You took me to the caves—y’know, them caves I took you to that one time, where we met Legs and her huge dragon beefcake. Except you weren’t taking me to the crystal room that held so many of the (swept up) pieces of my shattered heart.

You didn’t really…take me to a room at all, actually.

“….um,” I said, as you stopped me in the middle of a corridor, facing one of its walls. “Why—um….what are we doing… here again?”

There was light filtering from a nearby room where lava flowed from behind transparent stone; there was just enough light for me to look down on your furry, cheesing face as you approached the wall and placed both paws on it. I swore I saw pride shining there in those lil’ bitty eyes of yours. “What…?” I asked, coming closer to the wall—your obvious masterpiece of something. In the dim lighting I could make out scratches in the stone—scratches I had thought were just regular cave scratches in passing, but as I looked at them a little more closely, I could see that they were pretty deliberate—and fresh, too.



I cocked an eyebrow. “What am I looking at,” I blurted, my eyes traveling up and down the wall—noticing for the first time at how marked up it was, way, way higher than a skunk could reach, which meant you had to morph into something with wings to scratch up the space near the ceiling.



I furrowed my brow, chewing a lip, cuz your mind had gone suspiciously blank, which could only mean you wanted me to guess what you had drawn. “Uhhhh…..” I sort of muttered, the gears in my head creaking away from desperate fury at a helpless thing in order to work out this puzzle. They were like…um. Clouds? Uhm… ”Are they uh….carrots?” I asked, but you were cheesing so hard I knew I was wrong. “Um…tubes? Potatoes? Arrows? Wor—oh my god you nasty bastard.”

And you were so happy you reared on your hind legs, cheering for my success, while I backed into the opposite wall and stared at your masterpiece with horror.

Because oh god.

Oh god it made so much sense now.



“Why is that one so wrinkly?!” I shouted, and I would’ve kept backing up if I had any more space to do it but them corridors weren’t that wide. And—okay shut up but there was a swiftly growing piece of me that was…um.

Impressed.

Like, the longer I stood there, the more I understood what I was looking at and how long it must’ve taken you to actually draw all those—

--and then it was getting funny for some reason and the corner of my mouth cracked upward cuz I started imagining you standing here for hours at a time, your tiny-tiny claw etching into the rock, sketching a bunch of—

“But seriously, why is that one wrinkly,” I asked again, wondering why it looked like it was jiggling all over the place. You cheesed at me so hard and scurried back up to the wall, and I watched as you drew your claw against the wall again, drawing something fresh for me.



“Wow, so thoughtful, just for me, huh,” I bit with sarcasm, and you flashed your teeth and there was a thought in my mind, a little blip from you—a challenge to make it even more “thoughtful”. I watched as you amended it, adding to it, but you were starting to confuse me with it though.



“Okay, you lost me,” I said bluntly, trying to figure out what you had drawn. “Are those…lumps? Nah, seriously, it looks like a cucumber though.” You scratched yourself behind your ear with a hindpaw, then went back to the drawing board (literally) and tried to make the image clearer.



I squinted my eyes. “So…they’re even harder lumps now?” I tried, but you were shaking your head so I tried my guess again. “Are they—no, I guess they ain’t lumps, so like. Is it a color? Are they spo—oh hell naw--“

And I actually ran down the hall a little bit and you were laughing too hard to follow me, especially after the last “addition” that really “accentuated” your piece to make it stand out:





…You would think I would’ve left at that, done with thoughtful (OH SO THOUGHTUFL, FUCK RIGHT OFF) spotted…um…stuff and with your gross gross gross sense of humor—but I shocked you when I returned, drawn by the awful interest I had with your wall. I was still impressed with it—and you, your dedication to it (your weird dedication to—) and uh…

…I mean, what the hell? I took a stab at my own masterpiece.



And yeah, eventually, you started branching out your anatomy.



Except I frowned at it. “Um, I don ‘t think that’s how it works,” I said with a cocked ear, “I think gravity does shit to ‘em or whatever?”

And you diligently made additions based on my crit:



And I nodded my approval. “Yeah, that’s a pair to be proud of.”

-----

I don’t know how long we spent down there collectively (--and that was the problem that was the problem that was the problem that was the—); maybe the sun was going down, maybe it wasn’t, maybe shit was blowing up on the surface and neither of us cared because we were so busy drawing—

“Oh shut up, that is not what it looks like,” I sneered at you, as you went out on a limb (that was super hilarious) and designed a personal rendition:



But you were cheesing so hard and so happy at me and my calmed nerves—I mean, hell, I guess I let it slide. So I went back to drawing but there was a questioning thought from you, my image glued in our inner eye, and I caught your meaning with wide eyes.

“What does mine look like?” I asked, which was a question that would’ve grossed me out and drove me nuts on any other occasion—but I dunno, it made sense in context, I guess. “Uuuhhh…shoot,” I shrugged, “Big enough to choke on? I dunno, bro,” I looked down in your eager face and knew where you were driving at. “Well hell, draw it for me.”

So I watched your little face scrunch up with concentration as you placed the tip of your claw carefully on the stone’s surface. I dunno why but the atmosphere got super tense; you were looking at the stone really hard and I felt a little trace of anticipation at what you were thinking of, cuz your mind was left blank again, shielding me from your ideas.

Slowly, deliberately, you drew your claw against the stone:



I waited with bated breath to see where your claw would go, where it would twist, how it would bend, because suddenly I was super eager to know this bullshit—but you dropped your paw almost as soon as you had made the mark, and you looked up at me with bright, bright eyes.

I frowned. “Dude, why’d you stop?” I asked, looking at the mark again. “Wha—ain’t got any ideas or what? C’mon dude now you got me all excited to see what my--OH FUCK OFF!!”

And this time I really did leave the wall—but not without forcing you to zpsnck! into an owl, flapping your great wings as you hooted with laughter and soared away from my vengeful horntip. I chased you forever; through the caves, up to the surface and out of the tunnels, chasing you and chasing you and chasing you for your little snide-ass insinuations, leaving our work behind us in the muted light of that particular tunnel.

Left for the next person to find.



[IT'S TIME FOR HELOVIPAUSE and I'm not taking anything seriously anymore.

--Find the wall of dicks!

--Draw on the wall of dicks!

--FEAR THE WALL OF DICKS

--Have your character try to interpret strange shapes as though they're a message from the gods!

--or blow it up ._.

immediately gets banned]



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