//------------------------------// // Lost In The Supermarket // Story: Does Draconequus Discord Definitely Dwell Deleterious Dreams Definitively Despite Dangerously Decisive Designs?! // by Fireflower //------------------------------// Light in and of itself was capable of traveling to and from anywhere throughout the whole wide world rather almost instantaneously; in addition, it also was accompanied by the warmth as well. Because of this, it had unveiled a whole slew of colors coming in many different hues and shades whatsoever, each of them painting the overall landscape in an attempt to provide it some identity. Given the very situation at hand, it was best to assume for the most part that the day was just about to begin; after all, such imagery would be best captured by the observantly wariest ones. Today’s weather was warm outside seeing in which the big blue sky had been as bright like the shiny happy people outside with not even a single cloud or squall rolling alongside the vast and magnificent atmosphere, solar rays hovering over the neighborhoods where every single suburban residence, big or small, was baptized in resplendent wonder. The flat and narrow concrete remained neatly on the very slabs, burning hot like the magma of an erupting volcano for it was laying down there in the hot sun while being used to the constant ritual of getting run over by vehicles of all sizes, makes, and even models originating from whichever pathways of such ambiguous origins known and unknown. A calm breeze had strolled onward throughout the town, offering a sense of serenity to passersby indiscriminately; in turn, a few pedestrians, as well as motorists and bicyclists alike were all aware of how it would keep many of them cool and unperturbed as most had went to continue on with their daily lives outside their homes and gardens alongside inside. Other than that, it was so tranquil it was as if that very proximity was nearby some forested woodland which time had remembered, refusing to leave even when it was already known that the postal modernism of civilization had colonized over there; with that said, even the rather predominate lifeforms took pity upon their pittance left to the others. This had served as a contrast to one particular area within and nearby such a community in question: while many were capable of providing housing to those seeking it, their presence alone wasn’t the case; matter of fact, multitudes of automobiles parked outside of them in a stationary manner betrayed them all. Needless to say, this was of no consequence to their owners and whichever passengers whom have been commuting alongside them between now and then; after all, most of them were already embracing the comforts provided by wherever establishment was nearby within any walking distance overall. There were nevertheless two kinds of entities when it had currently came to the likes of such commercialized structures in question: arrivals and departures, no different from the ones where mass transit supplanted the needs and wants of personal transportation; even the pedestrians themselves weren’t alone. Of the many countless arrivals, one orange station wagon was found entering the mass of other vehicles halted upon the asphalt: like them, it was in search of an open space to deploy itself as many predecessors have done prior to this particular moment thereof; thankfully, whatever the wishes were made, if at all, were now granted almost instantaneously for what it was all worth. As soon as the engine was shut off and the monoxides subsided, four doors were opened in sync, taking advantage of the liberated dimensions to reveal five passengers now vacating from their armored transport at once. Every single one of them were alike in fair dignity at the first glance as the only commonality in possession was their yellow skin; of course, they also had some rather significant differences in betwixt them all the same. If at least one individual was already able to identify any of them at once as of this moment in time no less, then it’s rather obvious they were dire need of introduction, despite already being lost in crowd of others like and unlike themselves. The first person was a heavyset man with a neutral gaze upon the face and a few strands of jet–black hair curling from his barren scalp; his attire consisted of a plain white tee and moody blue pants with gray shoes protecting his feet from heat. The second person was a lanky woman with hope within her eyes and a full head of sapphire tresses towering by a small fraction; her attire was an emerald splashed dress covering much of her body and orange shoes matching the necklace. The third person was a shorter, leaner, and younger male frowning about slightly with spikes of blond hair circling about the surface area; he’d donned an orange shirt and blue shorts matching sneakers despite the steely accentuations thereof. The fourth person was much like the predecessor, albeit feminine as the one afore: the only commonality between the youths were spiky tresses and even then, they were more free; she wore a matching red dress and shoes with pearls. The fifth person was the youngest and smallest of the bunch, carried around by the woman in green: like the older girl, she, too, had spiky hair circling side–to–side but with a blue bow and jumpsuit; in the former’s mouth was a red pacifier. “Hmm, this place seems odd to a fault: it ain’t like one of those Sprawl–Marts back in our neck of the woods; come to think of it, that shopping center isn’t like them, if at all…” the overweight man commented, looking upon the rectangular structure standing nearby the sea of molded metals bunched up together like sardines albeit geometrically. The tall woman faced the eldest adult almost immediately and replied, “Homer, I know this is unfamiliar for you to unpack but we need to get ourselves some food for the vacation; room service can become so extremely exorbitant, even in this economy currently speaking: that Home Alone movie was a long time before that millionaire had become President of the United States.” “Speaking of which, to think all of this surveillance state would be ready and willing to take root because of the Twin Towers…” the young girl said as she’d stared at the big blue sky above themselves while avoiding the golden sun, “at this rate, I kind of miss the old Big Apple already, though at the same time I feel as if nothing has changed…” “Don’t fret, sis; it’s like what Plissken had said: ‘the more things change, the more things stay the same…’” the tall boy said instantaneously, the latter half of those words which were in a generated guttural growl. The lanky traveler wasted no time in returning her attention to the glass windowpanes away from them and spoke, “in any case, I can assure you this will be a short trip for us if we work together: Homer will get the small containers should we end up taking home groceries, Lisa gets the fruits and vegetables, Bart can bring only one jug of ice cream, and Maggie and I’ll find cold–cuts…” “But, mom… are you really suggesting we’d be limiting ourselves on ice cream all of the sudden on vacation no less…?” the eldest youth had inquired out of exasperation, looking upwardly to face the matriarch in an instant so to speak of, “for the longest time ever, we’ve finally been able to escape our otherwise boring lives in Springfield so the least we can do is cut loose like usual.” “Yeah, besides, it’s not like that the ice cream we usually buy lasts an entire day; I still miss that butterscotch ripple…” the eldest man said with a sympathetic chuckle before becoming lost in thoughts with a faint whimper. Rolling both eyes with a grumble, the woman in green had replied, “even so, it’s already bad enough we’ve found ourselves in a series of bizarre adventures spanning at least a decade’s worth of time and space; it seems to me even I’m having a bad feeling about this trip but thankfully I’d came prepared with a safe and economically friendly phone plan. Using our cellphones, we can send text messages in the event we get lost in the store, which would be highly unlikely given the small size and the directions; with that said, it’s best that we should all need a meeting place should this commonplace predicament ever happen to any of us, even to the likes of me: in our case, meet up in the bathroom in front of the registers.” “That is if we could find them inside; what is this place: ‘Audi’ or ‘Liddle’ something…?” the boy replied as he’d stared intently at the four letters making up a single word on top of the entrance, “must be some kind of Eurotrash…” “Bart, have you forgotten about all the times we’d gone to Europe: England, Ireland, Italy, the Netherlands, not to mention France of all places; where are you sensibilities…?” the feminine youth interrogated her aforementioned brother almost immediately, catching him off–guard at once. The tall boy wasted no time shooting back at her, “relax, Lisa, I’m not that close–minded: I’d just never thought the loser nation that waged World War II would be able to spread their supermarkets from the vaterland itself, let alone around it.” “In their defense, most of the goods and services they’ve made were only after the war ended and not every German supported National Socialism either…” the titular tyro talked to Bart in due time so to speak of, looking at some of the curved convertibles, “after all, even the museums specialized in these issues had enough nuance to shed light on the whole period with dignity…” “Yeah, yeah, we get it: Axis bad, freedom good; now, let’s use the free time to get this trip over with while we still can…” the lone heavyweight jabbered onward before scurrying off to the store with little care whatsoever. Despite his corpulent physique, the lanky traveler looked on in mild vexation and sighed, “oh, good grief…” “It’s okay, mom, we’ll stay with you; after all, it’s just a new store: what could go–––” the young girl said with a smile only to pause in place when her brother followed the same path as their mother, albeit in a slower pace; it was at this point the former diverted to a straight–shooting stoicism barely different from the latter’s outlook, “oh…” It wasn’t long until Bart had found his way into the flat building and the contents thereof which were instantaneously provided for his eyes and ears altogether. While there was light within the structure, they’d hung from the steely ceilings up above the boy and others like and unlike him in the form of lanky white tubes. He took solace in the observation of the heat and light from the golden sun not affecting his body since there were now much cooler temperatures all throughout. Bart felt his heart skipping a beat when he’d seen what had given the brick and mortar area life and purpose: aisles of items, known and unknown in full view. The boy had remained aware that they were masses of people within walking and talking about, each of them already varied in both appearances and capacity. Even the aromas currently entering his nostrils filled him up with hopes and dreams, expecting and anticipating any future meals following the very excursion. “So, this is what happened when the Allies had won: maybe if we get a history assignment at school soon, then I could write about the postwar economy and how it’d birthed such things; then again, this would be something Lisa would do…” Bart ruminated as he’d walked around, taking in all of the details seen and otherwise with every step. As the boy was doing so, he was greeted by the voice of another feminine individual: unlike his mother, there was a hint of youth no different from the likes of him though at the same time older nevertheless, “hello and welcome to Lidl: you seem to be lost, little kid; where are your parents…?” “If you must know, one of the fat guys that went in before me is named Homer; I’d be careful around him if I were you, ma’am: he can be really engorged if you know what I mean…” he’d answered as the towering shadow overwhelmed his stature, unperturbed yet slightly defensive all the while, “as for my mom, she’ll get here soon enough; tell her and my sisters I’d said, ‘hi…’” “But it’s dangerous to go alone…” the youthful individual warned Bart within mere seconds no less. The boy remained unmoved despite smiling and retorted, “no different from the rest of the real world, past or present… I’m not like these babies crying for their parents to come and take them back home as soon as they get lost; I’m ten and in charge of my own life: all that want in return are some directions to where can I find some ice cream, please…” “It’s in the far back, but be warned: pranksters have been found wreaking havoc recently last week; we need not any trouble from you or your kind…” the feminine observer spat back in return, her sweetly tongue slightly singed by some spice and salt within the spit and vinegar secreted by such a chosen set of words from her, “either way, we hope you have a nice day…” “Thanks, toots…” he shot back in return no less. Bart now had been provided a path of his own, forged deep within the mind as both legs brought himself away from the entrance and the unseen speaker whom he’d just talked to. As the boy walked along within and against the open flows of pedestrian traffic, he was calm on the outside but thinking all throughout the time of what had been said much prior. It’d seemed obvious that he was noticing a hint of disinterest every aisle passed by: whilst the goal alone was fresh within the forefront, at the same time he’d gotten worn–out. Nevertheless, Bart persisted with the very hope and glory awaiting to be fulfilled instantaneously upon reaching his given destination, the choices rather almost so endless to a fault. At long last, the boy was able to stop himself in front of the very aisle’s end in question: though cooler than the rest of the area so far, the contents were a balance between solid and liquid. On one end were but a series of products ranging from the ice–cold beverages great and small to various foodstuffs all made from a certain rural livestock coexisting together without fear. At the same time were more of the same, except they were placed within the freezers with clear glassy panes where its potential viewers could see the selections therein without hesitation. Out of the few whom were found within his line of eyesight, a trio of youths sharing the same gender as him stuck together all bunched up yet standing apart on their own two feet; much like his fragmented family, they, too, had their own fair share of differences in between themselves, something in which the former quickly took note for what it was worth. The first one was lanky and yellow wearing green, much like Bart’s mother, yet freckled with the hair growing from its owner’s scalp being an orange range of thin strands, contrasted by a thickly jet–black unibrow matching his shoes: aside from the jacket and footwear, the former worn an equitably striped shirt of red and white and a pair of baggy indigo pants. The next individual out amongst the very triumvirate also had some yellow skin but it was of a lighter skin, wearing a vermilion shirt with matching socks, purple shorts, and cyan shoes; in addition, he’d donned a hat camouflaging the thin strands of obsidian hair hanging downwardly past the neckline but with two of the white stripes upon each of its sides. The last of these was not like the others for his skin was tickled pink with some lighter spots around the eyes, clothed in a yellow shirt with a purple collar matching the sleeve hems and a vertical red rightmost stripe reminiscent of his shoes alongside light blue pants; despite having the longest, thickest strands of hair, he was short and stout like a teapot. Of the threesome, the young middleman wasted no time muttering about whilst walking around in circles, “curse this arbitrary turn of events: to think that we would end up here of all places with little money and no sense of direction to help us out whatsoever; even the big cities up and down the seaboard had some maps to and from the stars’ homes and whatnot to guide us…” “You think your the only person around here that’s stuck trying to figure out what plans to get us all out of this mess, sockhead?!” the more rounded of the trio had exclaimed quietly, staring at the glass barrier with a hungering displeasure as his hand stretched, “we’ve no idea how this all happened, no way to get back home to Peach Creek, and no scams to help us get outta here…!” “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream: rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah…!” the lanky youth in green sang, bouncing up and down in place without leaving the surface area of the ground despite the potential momentum therein. Bart slowly approached all three of his older and taller peers with confidence and greeted them, “hey guys, noticed that you have some sort of a conundrum: mentioned something about scams but don’t know what to do about them; how can I help…?” “Beat it, pipsqueak; we’re already in enough trouble as it is…!” the stout youth barked at the blond counterpart with little warning whatsoever, eyes boiling with annoyance, “oh, I would give anything to be back, listening to Tom Jones’ Green, Green Grass of Home…” “Tom Jones… I didn’t know you were into that guy; ever hear of Sex Bomb…?” Bart sighed, unperturbed by the anger within the pink–skinned individual whom had felt whatever rage subside into shock. An ecstatic grin appeared upon the stout peer’s face as he’d asked the mellow yellow correspondent, “Sex Bomb?! My parents wouldn’t let me play Reload, says that it encourages teen pregnancy and promiscuity; like I’m ever going to go steady in life, let alone be in a relationship, am I right…?” “Girls, can’t live with them or without…” Bart bursted into laughter, something which had infected the pink–skinned individual in an instant, “anyways, who are you and where do you come from…?” “Forgive us for the initial impoliteness: usually we don’t talk to strangers older than us and further away from our neighborhood in Peach Creek but since you happen to be within our age range, I guess we make an exception; I believe you’d already met Eddy, I’m Edd, and our tall colleague’s also Ed but with one ‘D’…” the juvenile in red introduced himself and his friends. This would prompt a derisive chuckle to escape from the young blond’s lips, “sounds like to me ‘dat’s’ the only least common denominator…” “Oh, great… a math joke; I hate math…” Eddy grumbled as he’d stared back at the ice cream assortment again, his incensed rekindling doing nothing whatsoever to them at all, “at least it’s better than that ones shovelchin dished out…” “Who’s shovelchin…?” Bart asked them already. The young middleman of the trio provided an answer, “I believe he was referring to one of our neighbors, Kevin; to be honest, most of the time these two never got along with each other ever since my family had moved to Peach Creek at least a decade: it was always about trying to be one step ahead of each other on the social climb to popularity by any and all necessary means.” “Oh sure, tell my whole life’s story while you’re at it: that way this expository will go reduce everything we said and did to sentences; you may as well be my own ghostwriter, Double D…?” the stout youth scoffed, still licking his lips with a mixture of annoyance and melancholy as they’d already failed to affect the frozen foodstuffs. Rolling both eyes in derision, the juvenile in red answered at once, “actually, you’re referring to exposition but that’s besides the point anyway; writing anything whatsoever, much less a biography, takes time and effort: even a simple excerpt requires forethought and planning to fill up the first chapter with words, not to mention a balanced vocabulary and grammar thereof. Our animated adventures alone, whether on a piece of pulp or a sheet of cellulose is almost no different from the standard lead and/or ink against paper: even passion projects requires man–hours of desire spent bringing anything and everything imaginable to a mere facsimile of life as we know it.” “No wonder why chubs has such a low opinion; your friend sound like my sister and those glee club nerds: platitudinous to a fault…” the blond youth had sighed roughly, earning him a cocked grimace from Eddy whom soon raised an eyebrow in process, “we’d once made a book together and all it took were her, our dad, our aunt, our principal, Moe, and even Neil Gaiman too…” “By Jove, a book; why, how inconceivable… to think that a father and his small circle of family and friends alike would team up with the most famous writer of Neverwhere, Stardust, and Coraline of all people to write a single book…!” Edd exclaimed much to the apathy of his bored colleague in primaries whom still returned the burning gaze upon the still immune ice cream. Bart spat out some air before scoffing in clear vicinity of all three peers almost instantaneously, “don’t start celebrating too soon: even a guy like me is aware of the phrase ‘never meet your heroes’ as Lisa taught me; Gaiman proved himself to a real piece of work that day we got our book out. Besides, the literature industry is full of bollocks anyway, a scam no less; after all, even she learned about how these girly–girl ‘Ange Butt’ novels are made: a corporate culture of five old guys taking advantage of today’s youth using middle–aged burnouts desperate for work and a paycheck…” “Oh, my… how disheartening… to think that such a respectable trick of the trade had been corrupted by naked greed and shameless opportunism…” the juvenile in red gasped at the words their blond counterpart had uttered recently so to speak, “I know that Charles Dickens wrote of classism and poverty before getting inundated with such wealth in his life but this is just sad. Could this mean that other modern day classics like Harry Potter are now potentially tainted by this newfound knowledge that current year books are nothing more than a for–profit industry of avarice and arrogance, dooming literature as we know it to a fate of stagnation and repetition as one generation after another is deceived and preyed upon like caprines to the cosmic slaughter?” “Don’t mind Double Dee anyway: he always gets like this whenever he’s against something that goes against his character and ideals; melodramatic, am I right…?” Eddy found the strength the laugh albeit briefly, cracking a smile from the suddenly extinguished infuriation worn over his hot face. As Bart came to terms with the things spoken of here and there, a bridge of melodic beeping was soon heard within earshot; despite being faint, the point of origin came from a much rather surprising source simply because of the accompanied buzzing now: reaching into the left pocket, he’d pulled out a silver block prompting a reply, “sorry, guys; need to take this call.” “Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring banana phone…!” the youth in green sang as the blond correspondent stepped away to open the electronic contraption in an instant, “it grows in bunches, I’ve got my hunches; it’s the best, beats the rest: cellular. modular, interactivodular…!” “Talk to me: you’ve reached the Bartman; who is this…?” Bart announced himself on the small speaker within the device. This inquiring introduction was met with a familiar tone through a garbled filter, already belonging to the likes of Lisa herself, “Bart, have you gotten the ice cream yet…? I’ve just about gotten all the vegetables on mom’s list; we’re just about ready to finish up now…” “I’m getting there, Lis; keep your shoes on: it’s not like it’s the end of the world as we know it…” the eponymous listener answered back, regaining focus onto the task at hand as he’d mulled over the selections provided, “besides, you’re acting like you can’t even trust me anymore…” “Don’t forget we’re not in Springfield now: everyone seems so different from us and vice versa – I found some other individuals of different styles; they all remind me of those Itchy and Scratchy cartoons but more diverse and variable…” the younger sibling talked as her firstborn counterpart glanced back at the trio with apathy and ambiguity. Bart yawned reluctantly before replying to Lisa, “relax, celebrities are nothing new; after all, we’ve gotten used to seeing them coming and going to Springfield as well as leaving it to go on adventures like this one in Delmarva of all places: I once went on a class trip there to witness the peace conference hosted by our President of all people months ago…” “He’s not my president and you know that: even aside from our ages, Trump lacks the acumen of a good one, let alone a person…” the younger sister spoken back in turn, unaware of what her lone listener had been seeing, “besides, I’d name a few good presidents but we’re running out of time; mom called me to say that she’d stocked up on the sliced meats as she’s at the restroom. Please meet her there when you’ve got the ice cream already; forgive me for saying this but she’d still remembered that time you’d attempted to steal Bonestorm during the holiday season, not to mention the choice of words you had used prior to this traumatic turn of events…” “It’s all water under the bridge as they say; at least it’s not as bad as what Jessica tried to do to me: although I savor rebellion, stealing from the collection plate was too much for the likes of me…” Bart had slightly shuddered to Lisa. In a matter of seconds, the young girl said to her brother, “gotta go, I’m gonna meet up with mom now; she might call you if you’re not done within five minutes time…” “Yeah, you too…” Bart said before closing up the silver flip phone straightaway, returning it back to whence it came, “like I’m that bad with simple decision–making…” It was at this point in time the young blond had been now compelled in coming to terms with the long distance communication between him and Lisa. Operatively speaking, Bart had plenty of choices to pick but not enough time to process them all; for what it was worth, he had only himself to blame. Though the blond boy hadn’t factored in the possibility of unfamiliar faces, it was nevertheless his choice alone to go engage with them all the same. All that was left was to do was return to the task at hand and the family Bart had arrived with: it was time to make a choice and fast while he still can. Before the blond boy could even do so, he’d laid eyes on one individual currently standing out and about as the dense atmosphere before themselves gotten sniffed away; not much whatsoever could ever be said about this particular entity if at all, save for some simplistic attire: a jet–black hooded overcoat covering much of its wearer’s form as the sights and sounds became apparent. “Perfect…” a raspy voice emanated: although masculine, it was devoid of the youth and clarity within the likes of Bart and his peers; in addition, there had remained some rough textures surpassing that of his own father. The cloaked person wasted no time getting a tub of ice cream out from the confines right away; however, the blond observer otherwise inspired by such usage of timing also noticed something: the former was opening the lid of the paper packaging and held it to the nearby neckline at once. Bart couldn’t help himself but make out a flash of color escaping from the jet–black fabrics and onto the surface area, lapping a small layer before retracting immediately; afterwards, the handler had returned the opened item back to the area retrieved, only to hear some words quickly escaping into the open air loudly, belonging to neither of them, “ICE CREAM POISONER…!” “Huh…?” the blond observer peeped instantaneously, turning around to find that they were spoken by his lanky peer, “Ed…?” “COME BACK HERE, MADMAN FROM ANOTHER WORLD…!” the aforementioned juvenile bellowed, chasing after the cloaked person with little warning whatsoever as Bart barely got out of the way in the already sprouted confusion. It wasn’t long until the jet–black individual heard the lanky youth approaching him with increasing acceleration, prompting the former to flee from the impending danger leaking from the latter’s sudden burst of indignation as the former gave chase with fellow friends following after. Needless to say, Bart trailed from behind them out of impulse, his rather simple responsibility abandoned in favor of watching the hot pursuit unfold before the likes of him as he ran off at once, panted about, “damn, what just happened with lumpy: he was happy just a second ago; did that ice cream licker trigger him so easily…?” “STOP, CRIMINAL SCUM…!” Ed cried with fury like a frail firebrand as the blond listener had struggled to pick up on the sound of the former’s voice, the latter retracing his steps to rediscover the entrance in question used by the very same family in question, “CEASE!!” It wasn’t long until Bart found his way back to where he’d began, this time with the very same cloaked person standing up in front of the doors: despite being directly upon the black mat, they were still closed tightly, leaving the latter at the mercy of the lanky pursuer growling like a dog. The jet–black individual eyed Ed with a static pose underneath the textiles, remaining calm on the outside but wary altogether; gone was the happy–go–freely amicability within the youth’s visage and in its place a vicious canine’s temperament thereof: adding onto this, the latter had adopted a quadrupedal stance with shrunken irises and bubbling foam soon spat at the former. “This wasn’t supposed to happen…” the cloaked person spoke again, albeit internally so as a response won’t ricochet back at the current whereabouts. Even though the lanky youth couldn’t see the jet–black individual’s eyes, he refused to back down from his stance, let alone allow the target of such choice to go no further than hereon out. Almost instantaneously, a set of spheres slung from the cloaked person’s textiles, sauntering adjacently between the two individuals in seconds; sure enough, each of them created a cloud of smoke thick enough to obscure Ed’s line of sight, much to his infuriation as he’d barked even louder, “SHOW THYSELF, DASTARDLY WHIPLASH…!” “Holy cow, that’s some powerful smoke bombs…!” the blond observer coughed alongside countless others including the trio themselves whom had covered much of their faces, even the lanky growler whom whined with disgust and discomfort; afterwards, the artificial cloud had dissipated and the jet–black individual was no longer there, “where in the Hell did he go?!” “Bart, what’s wrong; are you all right: did somebody hurt you?!” another voice from long ago cut into the open airspace within the titular tyro’s range. Before the blond onlooker could even turn around, he’d instantly found himself being hugged compressibly by the corporeal woman from before; despite the sudden discomfort, he was more than relieved to reply to her, “mom… you won’t even believe what I’d seen just now: there was this man who licked some ice cream without paying and one of the boys tried to stop him…” “Shh… it’s okay, sweetie; I knew it was a bad idea to let you go off on your own: I just didn’t consider how horrifying it’d be…” the lean matriarch had sobbed softly onto Bart’s integuments, making no effort whatsoever to let go of him at all so to speak of, “I’m such a terrible mother for letting this happen to you…!” “No, you’re not… I’m just surprised by the whole thing: I remember Lisa telling me over the phone about all the strange people we’d been seeing at the store since we’d entered the store; come to think of it, the tall guy was the one whom chased him off to stop that man in black…” the blond boy said to the lanky woman within the snuggle. Soon, more of their relatives came by to comfort them: Homer and Lisa with Maggie in tow bearing widened and moistened eyes of storm and stress upon themselves; needless to say, the elder man was the first to speak, “I heard the commotion as well: was this another terrorist attack they’ve been warning us about; please don’t tell me that Isis is still alive?!” “I highly doubt that they’d have anything to do with this supermarket whatsoever, let alone here…” the younger blonde replied hesitantly as she’d held the infant in the former’s hands tightly at once, “are you alright…?” “Of course, I’m alright…” Bart scoffed softly. Homer felt his skin crawling about due to the excess of perspiration trickling down thanks to gravity, shaking about as he’d hissed, “when I get my hands on that monster, he’s going to be sorry that he’d came to this neighborhood…!” “Excuse me, coming thru; sorry…” another masculine voice was found to be making his way towards the family of five in mere seconds, “hello, are you the boy that had seen the attacker…?” “Who wants to know…?” the blond boy asked. All of them had turned around to face another individual standing directly abaft, unperturbed by the shocking turn of events. His skin was a dark shade reminiscent of the topsoil, matching the weary eyes he’d used to see what had unfolded currently. The onlooker’s hair was big and black with a few trace amounts of silver and white within them, matching the boots he wore. Like the balding patriarch, the speaker’s attire was simplistic to a fault: bearing a white shirt and blue pants, albeit so leaner. It wasn’t long until the dark observer answered calmly, “I’m the assistant manager; I believe you should all come with me for the time being…” Time had passed on through space alongside with the inhabitants whom were drifting aimlessly as the stars amongst the never–ending blackness floated on, each of them to prompt any wayward traveler to harken back to the memories of life when the richest beverage kept their spirits up until their next destination and from the mouth of madness. Of course, time itself was the only thing that remained constant in the ever–changing plane of existence where many variables had come in all shapes and size, coexisting alongside either in unions or divisions thereof as they transcended boundaries without incident to say the least; then again, almost all of them succumbed to the folding sooner or later. This interval however would prove to be a special case since that there were those who have found themselves still standing rather than stumbling and falling to the depths of their failure nonetheless; however, not all of them were doing so as the whole wide world turned on its own axis: out of many of those in question, there was indeed a few no less. A new environment was currently in clear view, much smaller than the outside world and the supermarket it inhabited both in terms of potential personnel and static spacing alike so to speak. The very ligneous ceiling in its entirety bore a chocolatey scheme though at the same time far from edible; nevertheless, there were technicolor dots scattered about by a lit fan up and running. The flooring was merely made up of ruby red carpeting on the ground easily filled to the brim of the richness already composed to the point of mysteries and miracles due to its forced diversity. All of the walls were painted in a vaguely obscure shade of star platinum, save for some fractions deep within the wooden base holding it all together with the illegible squiggles above and below. Scattered about were some various artifacts left and right which had given that room some life: a bookshelf, charts, pictures, electronics, a desk, an intercom, a microphone, and an emerald chair. It was at this point in time where at least several people had resided in there: of them, Bart, Ed, Edd, and Eddy were sharing the same side standing up and about as they’d faced the lone adult sitting down calmly. “Sir, please forgive us for our friend’s sudden change in behavior recently; usually, this isn’t something that happens, at least not here…” the juvenile in red was the first to speak up to the assistant manager reluctantly at once, “the last time this occurred, it was all because of a pebble in his shoe: you’d not believe it even if you’d seen it yourself; I had hard time believing it too…” “Relax, I’d be upset too if something was stuck up in my foot: at least a rock sounded more believable and removable in his case; a splinter on the other hand is a nightmare to get out on its own…” the lone adult said as his face was illuminated by a glass screen, eyes concentrated on a series of images moving about at a controlled speed. It wasn’t long until the stout youth had joined in too, albeit slightly grim, “so, how much trouble are we in, sir…?” “Compared to that dastard, not much at all: I would’ve wanted nothing more than to thrash this guy myself; this is what had been warned…” the assistant manager answered as he’d scrolled throughout the frames per second displayed afore himself, “a series of incidents such as this have been going on throughout America lately since a few months ago; they call them pranks now…! These sickos open ice creams and lick the surface off of them before closing them back up and returning them to the freezer like nothing has happened; the whole goshdarn thing makes me sick to my stomach thinking about it all, the diseases they spread, the tastes that have been ruined, not to mention the money lost ‘cause of such things…! Wal–Mart and Sam’s Club alongside some unaffiliated derivatives throughout America had a similar problem with them so they had to go and beef up their security protocols a bit to keep this from happening; to be honest, I don’t like where this is going, especially since we’re so close to the end of it all, yet it seems that our demise is inevitable.” “The end… of what…?” the blond boy blabbed. Suddenly, the screen collapsed into the blackness and the lone adult answered, “to tell you the truth, not a day goes by that I think about whatever’s awaiting us further down the future; I’ve been watching and reading how humanity would end so to speak ever since I was a young child: nuclear disasters, earthquakes, tornadoes, alien invasions, plagues, and even a megatsunami. None of them could compare to what had been written down in the books, of how the entire species has strayed off from the strait and narrow ever since the dawn of time itself so to speak; even the Western colonization serves as a more prominent example of why nothing last forever, especially with four centuries of progress made displacing, enslaving, and destroying others. The fact that the only things that’s changed throughout the ages is the technology yet rather than using it to do good, it succumbs to humanity’s deepest darkest desires for control and whatnot; it’s no wonder why the prophets from the ancient realm spoke of the end of days, especially considering how drastically different their societies were compared to the modern ages of now.” “I’m sorry but I don’t understand how this relates to our currently situation so to speak…” Edd interjected, bringing the assistant manager out of his focus and back into the multidimensional reality all of them were still in, “you were saying…?” “Sorry, I just have developed a habit going on tangents lately since my youth, an immutable one at that so far for what it’s worth; thankfully, I’ve been getting with my condition…” the lone adult said, calmly explaining the sudden bursts of dialogical discharge from before to the youths in question. The blond boy then blurted out plainly, “you’re on the spectrum…?” “Yes, for the lack of a better term…” the assistant manager had answered straightaway, slightly incensed but extinguished by a suddenly loud knock on the door, “okay, you can come in now…” “What are you going to do to my boy: is he going to be banned from the store…?” the hairless correspondent asked after entering the room right away, a face flushed with trepidation as he stared at the youth nearby. The leaner man wasted no time whatsoever in replying to Homer, “not at all; we are, however, going to close the supermarket until get this mess all sorted out: I don’t know exactly what had happened before then but I have reason to believe that the government is going to get involved in this mess all the same. Even if it was just a smokescreen, I cannot forget how much damage that monster would’ve unleashed on asthmatics and others with respiratory problems young and old; for a sec there, I might as well would’ve expected it to be so much worse, especially over something as mundane as ice cream.” “Ditto, to tell you the truth I’d fallen victim a fair share of them myself: there was this Ukrainian mob boss whom kidnapped me…” the bald heavyweight said nonchalantly to the assistant manager, much to the newfound shock of Bart’s three peers, “apparently, it was to draw my new friend from work out so he could take revenge; thankfully, my friend came to save my life…” “Good lord…!” the juvenile in red muttered. The lean overseer guided Homer and the youths within the very same room out while saying to them, “well, in any case, I recommend watching your step next time before you set out for home and away now; we may not be dealing with Middle–Eastern Fundamentalists, but I best prefer choose to visit the countryside for vacationing next time. Please wait out there for the time being until further notice; do you two understand…?” “Yes, sir…” Eddy grumbled as he, his fellow colleagues, and the hairless elder walked out of there, presented with a little bit of the same–old scenery from before yet with more individuals like and unlike themselves; it was at this point, he could care less in the slightest compared to earlier, “well, so much for the government; it seems the nineties are looking better than ever…” I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes, I saw the sign Life is demanding without understanding I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes, I saw the sign No one’s gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong But where do you belong? The lanky youth sang freely, much to the stout counterpart’s slight displeasure at the choice thereof. The blond boy had sat on down to watch as few of the various troops and police were currently surveying the area before himself: many of them were already active, whether it was asking questions and/or finding answers, it’d been all of the same to themselves; although they were already at ease, the turn of events they’d bore witness to directly was sobering to a fault no less. Of the very personnel found in active view, two policemen were in the vicinity: the uniforms alone were ironically a dead giveaway to the various observers; at the same time, they were just as different like everyone else here and there. Out of the distant duo, the first was tall and muscular, a face chiseled like a quadrangular brick adorned with a jet–black mustache; the second one was short but still lean, rounded out with a balance betwixt youth and age all throughout. It wasn’t long until the bulky man was the first to speak, “so what do you suppose happened, Daizaburo…?” “I’m still at a loss of words: terrorists usually would’ve struck with a bomb of some sort, let alone come here with a team…” the eponymous partner answered, studying the few products that were still unaffected all the same with an intense composure, “one thing that bothers me is why the ice cream prank; what was he planning to do with it, Sleepy: start an epidemic…?” “I don’t know but I didn’t get transferred out of New York to deal with this crap here: Capricorn was a tragedy on its own and that was before September 11th of all days; at least we didn’t have to deal with the following onslaught as well…” the muscular policeman growled, shaking about but remaining still for the convenience of others. The shorter correspondent groaned, “you don’t need to remind me of that; somehow, I wish we didn’t need any of this mass media crap predicting it all: Kojima must be laughing his ass off about the whole prediction…” Suddenly, with little warning whatsoever, yet somehow on cue, a vacant space devoid of people and items alike was illuminated with a cluster of sparkles shimmering about to little end in sight; soon, they’d transformed into a trio of concentrated circles kept apart but still sharing the same area as colors were swirled about within the otherwise flat surface area standing about sharply. Out of them were various lifeforms stepping into the same plane of existence as the males whom were sitting down watching it all: evidently, it was the only commonality shared between the visitors since even the young would be comforted by such a discovery; nevertheless, the significant differences were on clear display based on the entities whom appeared before them. The first portal had bore a quintet of women stepping out from the literal blue, each of those dressed in a pointed hat matching their gowns and capes: of them, the most that could be ascertained was an elder in blue with a pink bow around the neckline whilst the remaining others were dark haired in a set of ruby, sapphire, and emerald. The next portal, in teal, consisted of a mismatched twosome, a man and woman more different to each other and everyone else: while the latter dressed in purple matching her hair, save for a baby blue blouse and pink bow, the former stood out as having more colors in his clothes than his face and hair alike; even his eyes bore red over gold. The final portal was white, a singular man stepping out from there, tall like Sleepy yet blond like Bart as much of his body was cloaked in a long scarlet rob with white fur and gold jewelry, all of which overlaid his brown pants found sliding underneath to match a pair of high boots as they’d touched the solid earth beneath themselves right at once. “Hmm, come to think of it, it seems to me we’re not in Canterlot anymore…” the pied pedestrian prattled on, pondering about the predicament they’d all been presented with, “as a matter of fact, I’m surprised as to how we all got here no less…” “Relax, Discord, I’ve been to the human world before: it’s just that it’s been more different than I’d seen it last time; now that you mention it, where exactly are we…?” the petite peer in purple peeped out as she’d looked around to find all eyes now locked onto herself and the titular traveler nearby alongside others. As this was happening, one woman in emerald had this to say about it at once, “my sisters and I have been asking the same question as well; of course, it seems that we’re not the only ones looking for answers either: as a matter of fact, I’m amazed that the lot of us were brought here to the very same location…” “Wow, what a rather strange new world: a civilization full of people with so much magic…” the tall blond exclaimed, watching the many individuals staring agape with a few holding onto their chosen armaments straightaway, “whoa, whoa, easy, I come in peace; I mean no harm to you in any way whatsoever: I am Julius Novachrono, the 28th Magic Emperor of the Clover Kingdom.” “Yeah, and I’m the President of the United States; hands up where we can see them…!” the muscular policeman growled in an instant, drawing out a shotgun to point it into their collective direction at once; as he did so, Daizaburo also pulled a weapon from his holster, a small jet–black pistol within the left hand. This brought the elderly woman’s attention quickly as she’d held onto a wand in her right, her younger compeers also following suit as their guide said, “please understand that we’re of no threat to you at all, young man: my name is Esperance, the current fairy godmother of Princess Cinderella and I’ve not arrived alone as we can see here. In my case, I’ve commuted alongside three other similar fairies from the same land as I in a similar method with the same task at hand – to protect a princess and her homeland from ruin; now, it seems that we’ve collective found ourselves in a time and place far unlike that of their homes and families. Nevertheless, we’re still curious as to our current whereabouts and the weapons pointed to us: it seems to me that although everything is similar to their land, I’ve noticed many countless differences between here and there.” “This is America…” Ed now sang, catching the band of seven and their observant witnesses off–guard with little concern as they still remained focused, “don’t catch you slippin’ now… don’t catch you slippin’ now… look what I’m whippin’ now…” “Heh, heh, heh… what a time to be alive…” Homer hooted heartily. Although the short policeman still held onto his firearm, his gaze softened up a bit as he’d asked them, “who are you people and what are you all doing here…?” “Surely, you have really forgotten your manners when you’ve taken up the badge alongside whatever substitutes for gunpowder and steel here…” the pied pedestrian plainly pontificated, peering at the proximate policemen poised ahead of themselves presently so to speak of, “I’m Discord P. Sullivan, the closest of confidants to Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Equestria…” “Oh, jeez… more princesses; dreams do really come true…” the blond boy cerebrated as he’d looked away. It wasn’t long until the woman in a ruby scheme introduced herself, “‘tis as her fairy godmother has said before, we, too, are fairies whom have arrived from a faraway land: I’m Flora Knotgrass Septa and alongside me are my sisters, Fauna Thistlewit and Merryweather Flittle Septa; there are at least four others sisters, all older and with more experience than the likes of us…” “Interesting… actual fairies from another world… at the same size as the humans themselves…” the woman in purple said to herself as she’d stared at the fanciful foursome on her far–right past her polychromatic peer, “what do you suppose had brought us here all of the sudden, some new type of magic that humans have here…?” “Not quite, dear princess: usually my magic would’ve taken me anywhere I’d wanted to go, at least under normal circumstances; the last time I was exposed to a different kind of magic, I’d ended up having walked all the way over to Chrysalis’ hive with Thorax guiding us through…” Discord answered, his eyes rolling around into his sockets and then back in front of them again. This hadn’t gone unnoticed whatsoever as Daizaburo pointed his gun at the pied pedestrian in and instant, changing targets from the old fairy and the reluctance thereof as the former barked, “what the… what the fuck was that?!” “Language already…?” Discord shivered after the short policeman’s question entered a stray ear, a small trail of red crawling out from there, “even Tirek had more restraint in his words but this was highly uncalled for…” “I know… remember we’re not in Equestria: most of the inhabitants in this dimension aren’t used to seeing your body parts, much less your eyes rolling in other directions many can’t; besides, they’re still armed to the teeth with these strange metal wands…” the younger female whispered to her pied peer presently at once. Sleepy also took note of the movements the woman in purple made and barked, “please cut the chitchat already; I don’t want to use this, especially not in front of a pretty little girl like you… It’s bad enough that this supermarket had to deal with a failed bioterrorist, now we’ve gotten some people showing up out of nowhere at a time like this: as a matter of fact, this old man is this close to playing fool with that dirty trick of us…!” “Fool?!” Discord choked out instantaneously, his ear no longer leaking though releasing a puff of smoke at once, “says the meathead incandescently…!” “Guys, please… let’s lay down our arms and talk this out: I’m pretty sure there’s a good explanation for all this; why don’t we all just settle down…?” the Emperor chuckled sheepishly even with both the muscular policeman and the pied pedestrian locking leering eyes onto each oter electromagnetically in this passing moment. Esperance wasted no time whatsoever in chiming back into the conversation, “I concur: as far as we see it, most of us have been willing to comply with your simple command since our arrival; besides, even Julius has exceeded our expectations from the very beginning and we don’t even know each other at all…” “Miss Esperance has a point: if we’re to cooperate with the humans, then we must prove to be no threat whatsoever, Discord…” the younger female pleaded to the aforementioned individual almost immediately, still wary of the armaments pointed at them, “besides, it’s as what Officer Sleepy said: someone tried to poison the others and the last thing Equestria needs is a war…! I’m not going to let the era my mentors had brought in end with a conflict between two worlds, especially not over something like this; think about Fluttershy, what do you suppose she’d say about it if something goes wrong and I’m not back…?” “Fluttershy…?” the pied pedestrian peeped, his indignant gaze softening up a bit from what the woman in purple had said recently so to speak of. The woman in sapphire asked, “who is Fluttershy, a friend of yours…?” “Yes and she would want for us to return home safely alongside the others…” the younger female answered to Merryweather in an instant, remaining careful not to arouse the anger of the other armed onlookers, “after all, I have an obligation to uphold my title, not just for their sake alone; can you all please lower your weapons…?” “What reason should you have to give us as a gesture of nonaggression…?” Daizaburo replied to the woman in purple, relieving himself of the sternness within whilst holding firm all the same. It wasn’t long until Julius soon sighed, “my grimoire… usually I don’t see any reason as to relinquish it to any unknown personnel, especially to any hostiles though considering the situation, it should give you no cause of further alarm if I pass this onto to you for the time being…” “Is he really crazy: from our experience, it’s no better than laying down their sword; how can this even work?!” Fauna ruminated frantically as an assortment of paper stuck together appeared before their very eyes, hovering about in midair, “he’s no Maleficent yet the idea is rather reckless, not to mention his spell book has no protective cover whatsoever…!” “I’ll also surrender my wand as well: even I know better not to do this since the last time I’d been separated from it, the course of events set out had been gravely altered; at least this time, I now have faith that we can reach a mutual understanding and end the nightmare completely…” the elderly fairy also said as she’d released her wand, watching it fall to earth without incident. Flora and her sister also did the same while saying, “same with us… regretfully so…” “Oh, alright but I must warn you: I’m not like other guys, let alone other magicians you find at some resort past the desert plains…” Discord grumbled as he’d slowly knelt down without dropping his arms, looking firmly at the men with frustration in his eyes, “oh, this is most humiliating…!” “Okay then…” one armed individual said, a soldier in green bearing a voice just as feminine as the new arrivals, albeit gruffly. A few of the armored woman’s peer slowly circled in and placed the sticks and texts in separate plastic bags with all the tongs in their grip. Needless to say, although the band of seven were gestured to lower their arms, a combination of concern and hope dominated their minds. Denizens didn’t know what to make of the situation at hand, confused by the sudden turn of events but convince of the outcome so far. Yet, from what many observers could ascertain, the day was far from over, irregardless of the timing or the phase all the same so to speak. One person in particular took note of this, a fair skinned man in a generally bleached scheme textiles with green hair in sideway slicked undercut matching his eyes, vest, and shoes, watching it all as he’d said to himself, “I’m not really sure what had happened but I have reason to believe this isn’t the work of an enemy stand, at least not this time. In any case, should I happen to come across even one normal enemy, the least I can do is subdue him: Heaven’s Door will surely keep him from making any sort of drastic measures known and otherwise; besides, I have a feeling this will not be the first or last time I find myself in America, what with all the bizarre things happening here and I'd thought Morioh was crazy…” As he’d watched the band of seven approach the armed patrollers carefully, he kept his distance to the far corners of the supermarket, calm on the outside but thinking all throughout the time in regards to what had been seen and heard altogether without drawing any attention whatsoever.