...all long pig, all the time... (
froodle) wrote in
eerieindiana2016-11-09 08:27 pm
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Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: PixiePaste
Dash was crushing pixies in a garlic press when Marshall got home. A heavy cast-iron skillet was warming on the stove, next to a pile of broken egg shells and a chopping board covered in unevenly hacked chunks of chorizo.
“Psychotropic omelette?” Marshall guessed, picking up the small trash can out of the corner and sweeping the egg shells into it. “You won’t get either of us high enough to do your chores, Dash.”
Dash looked at him in confusion, then glanced over at the stove and shook his head.
“Nah, it’s Simon’s turn to cook tonight.” He set the garlic press down and wiped his fingers on a tea-towel, leaving a trail of glittering pulverised fairy goo on the red flannel. “Strictly non-hallucinatory meals all the way.”
“So what’s with the dead Tinkerbelles?”
“You know that cult that meets in the basement of Eerie General on Thursday nights?”
“The Benevolent Order for the Betterment of Hungry Ghosts?”
“No, that’s Tuesday in the alley behind the World o’ Stuff.”
“Ancient Brotherhood of the End Times?”
“Moved to the Eerie Library on Saturday afternoons, after Children’s Reading Hour.”
“Those weird dancing jackalope guys?”
“Disbanded last summer. Something about a controversial half-turn during a ceremonial do-si-do splitting the ranks.”
“Aw no,” said Marshall. “I really liked their Saturnalia mummeries.”
Dash shrugged. “They were okay,” he allowed. “Always thought they got more attention than they deserved, though. Maybe now people will start appreciating the Unkind Ones’ Christmas pantomime for the under-rated masterpiece of theatre that it is.”
Marshall stared at him. Dash reddened, then scowled.
“What? They do their own musical arrangements and original songs. It’s impressive!”
“Okay,” said Mars, tabling the artistic merits of Eerie’s most notorious biker gang for another time, or hopefully never. “So which one’s the hospital cult again?”
“The All-Seeing Eye of the Truthiest Truth Seekers,” said Dash.
Marshall groaned.
“The Poplio groupies? Those goons in the stupid popcorn hats who stand in front of the Eerieplex moaning and chanting and bleeding from the eyeballs whenever there’s a movie showing?”
“That’s them,” said Dash. “Their mission is to ‘see the unseen’, even when the unseen is demonstrably terrible and mind-breaking.” He held up the small mixing bowl full of sparkling pixie-paste. “Hence the fairy dust. They put it in eye drops or something equally stupid and unhygienic and it lets them ‘lift the veil of human perception’, blah-blah-blah, enjoy an eternity screaming into the void, idiots, now pay me.”
Marshall pulled a roll of cling-film from the kitchen drawer and handed it over.
“Normally, I’d be against you exploiting the cosmically unhinged,” he said. “But those bozos ruined Corn Critters 7 with their wailing, so...”
Dash grinned.
Microwave-verse
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