King Sombra's on the hunt! For any job that'll actually take him.
Having recently lost his beloved Crystal Empire and only known profession all in one swoop, King Sombra suddenly finds himself in immediate need of employment.
I shook hands with my latest appointment and showed him to the door. He was good. Not great, mind you, but good enough. Although, I don’t think much of that honestly mattered with the entry-level position I was offering to people that day. Starbucks barista? Yeah. Any regular Joe or Jane would fit the bill just fine. As long as they weren’t crazy or anything, of course.
Closing the door to my cramped makeshift office, I returned to my desk and took a look at my next appointment: K. Sombra.
“Huh,” I muttered. “Karl or Kevin? Now I’m curious.”
My curiosity was only increased tenfold when someone loudly rapt on my door—hard enough to leave marks, I was sure.
“You in there!” the person outside spat lowly. “Are you the ruler of this land? The true Lord of Starbucks? If that is correct, then I wish to hold palaver at once!”
“Uh…” I rose to open the door for them, but my next “appointment” wasted no time and entered without invitation—quickly settling his completely exposed rump on my thin plastic visitor’s chair.
I was at a loss for words by the sight alone.
The thing that had just entered my office appeared to be a three-and-a-half foot tall grey pony with a wavy jet-black mane and tail complete with a curving red horn. On his back was a horribly tattered crimson cape and tucked around his ears was a shattered crown held together by what looked like large amounts of tape and glue.
Like a deflated balloon, I collapsed back to my chair. “K. Sombra?” I asked him meekly.
The pony flashed his sharp teeth at me. “King Sombra, if you’d be so kind.”
“We don’t really go for ‘titles’ here at Starbucks,” I tried to explain gently. “For example: all of my employees just call me Charles around here.”
Sombra raised a sharp brow. “Then how will your slaves know who’s in charge?”
I sighed. “Because I’m the only one that gives them their paychecks, but I think we’re getting off track here. You want a job here? You actually want a job here? You?”
“Well,” Sombra said, rolling his venomous red-and-yellow eyes around in his skull, “there seems to be quite a bit of difference between ‘want’ and ‘need’ and at the moment I ‘need’ myself a steady means of income.” He glanced at the floor for a second. “Steve’s been hounding me recently about paying rent.”
“Roommate?” I asked.
“Long story,” Sombra replied dryly, while I hurriedly scribbled down “Boyfriend?” on his resume I had open on my desk.
While taking a quick look at it, I brought it up to cover most of my face with. Since the very moment he’d entered the room, I don’t think Sombra had stopped staring at me once. Or even bothered to blink.
“Says here you used to run an entire Empire by yourself,” I gathered from his short list of previous jobs. “But there’s no reference phone numbers available. Were you fired from your last job?”
Sombra barked out a single laugh. “You could say something like that. I was torn into a thousand tiny pieces and shot clear across the land by the power of love. It was only due to my extreme hatred and need for revenge that I didn’t die that day.”
I whistled in astonishment. “Your employees must’ve really hated you, then. A while ago, I heard of something similar happening to a McDonald’s manager downtown.”
Sombra’s expression softened a bit. “Really? There didn’t happen to be a baby dragon involved, do you know?”
I stared at him deadpan. “No, Mr. Sombra. Of course not. What happened to you is of the completely insane and impossible variety.” I took another glance at his resume. “Says here you then worked at Baskin Robbins for a total of… six hours. What happened there?”
“They asked me to wear a hairnet,” Sombra growled between his teeth.
I nodded. “That’s pretty standard, I’m afraid. Most food service places make you wear a hairnet these days. Or would it be a mane-net in your case?”
Gingerly, Sombra raised one of his hooves to playfully poke and prod at his wavy mane. “You’d honestly ask someone like me to hide this beautiful hair behind a net?”
Again, I nodded. “Yes, I would. It’s part of the rules.”
“You want to touch it? It’s really soft.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine, thanks. But returning to…” That was when another thought occurred to me. A far more disparaging thought. “You didn’t happen to work at the Baskin Robbins down the street, did you? The one that burnt down last week?”
Sombra used another hoof to hide the smirk on his lips. “Fire? Smoke and flames and all those delicious screams? I can’t seem to remember what happened there now.”
“I read in the paper that all the exits were blocked by chairs—that people barely made it out of there.”
Sombra muttered more to himself, “That’ll teach that stupid kid not to drop his messy ice cream cone on my perfectly mopped floor.”
Anxiously, I rubbed both of my hands together. “Again, we’re getting off track here. Let’s try some standard interview questions, all right? Where do you see yourself in five years time?”
“Eating a burrito on the couch,” Sombra answered without pause. “It’s usually around this time of the day when I eat burritos on couches. Great combo, if you ask me.”
“I meant career wise,” I corrected. “Where do you see yourself five years from now?”
“Oh.” Sombra lightly tapped on his furry chin. “Well, if I haven’t recaptured the Crystal Empire by that point, then I’m sure I would be ruler of Earth. Or a used car salesman. I’ve heard they’re quite terrible people underneath their friendly exterior.”
Suddenly, I was feeling a lot more tired than I was a few minutes ago. “How ‘bout in one year, Mr. Sombra? Where do you see yourself then?”
Lifting his chin, Sombra motioned to the chair I currently sat on. “Behind that desk—perhaps with your stuffed corpse acting as my personal throw rug.”
My lips thinned instantly. “That’s disgusting.”
“How else would my employees know to fear me? Unless their original ruler’s cold, dead eyes stared at them each and every time they come speak to me?”
“You’d be arrested, Mr. Sombra,” I informed him bluntly. “For murder and for a whole lot of other stuff, I’m sure.”
He furrowed his brows at me. “Is that not how I get to claim your job from you? One-on-one fight to the death? I’m partial to swords, but we can always go hoof to fist. Where is Starbucks’ armory, by the way? And do you usually hold fights-to-the-death in the outside parking lot or do you have somewhere special to go? Sorry about all the questions, but I’m still very new to this whole job thing.”
I exhaled loudly and began rubbing at my temples. “I will not be getting into a fight with a three-and-a-half foot tall pony in the parking lot. I like my job, so I think I’ll keep it, thanks.”
Displaying a single fang, Sombra went on to add, “Would it change your mind if I told you your death would be completely painless? Or that your loved ones would be taken care of in your absence?”
I pointed a sharp finger at the pony. “You keep my wife and kid out of this.”
“Then defeat me in one-on-one combat, Lord Charles!” Sombra trumpeted. “Both of us must understand that Starbucks only needs one true ruler to govern over it!”
Holding my hands out in front of me, I left my seat to get around my desk. “I think I’ve heard enough. Don’t worry, Mr. Sombra. Don’t call us. We’ll call you.”
As I opened the door behind him, Sombra didn’t budge a single muscle from where he sat. Instead, he frowned and crossed both of his forelegs over his chest.
“Fine. Have it your way, Lord Charles,” he began angrily. “If I cannot have your job, then I must prove to you my worth so I may quickly rise above you. During my time in the Crystal Empire, I managed to fix an entire damaged economy before destroying it again even worse than before. Needless to say, I am a very good idea pony.”
Standing by the open doorway, I thought about grabbing the small creature and removing him from the shop myself. Then I caught sight of some of his many sharp teeth and soon put that idea on hold. Maybe he’d leave on his own if he talked long enough.
I returned to my desk and rested my head on a hand. “Go on.”
My returned interest must’ve excited Sombra as he scooted his chair a little bit closer towards me. “I’ve been inside this place for less than an hour and already I know what must be done to improve it. What do you call that large creature that guards the coffee and pastry treats in the other room?”
Already, I didn’t like where this was going. “You mean Susan? The employee working the counter right now?”
“Yes,” Sombra replied hungrily. “This ‘Susan’ must be dealt with. Immediately.”
“Why?”
“Because she is fat and we must trim the fat if we wish for this business to survive.”
I closed my eyes and lowered my head to my desk. “We aren’t firing Susan. She’s one of our best employees and weight has absolutely nothing to do with anything. You stupid hairy jerk.”
For some reason that made Sombra snort. “Who said anything about firing? You know what would boost employee morale around here? A good old fashioned sacrifice to the God of Mercury.”
“We aren’t sacrificing one of our employees to the God of Mercury, Mr. Sombra.”
“The God of Coffee Beans, then?”
“No.”
“But think about it, Lord Charles!” Sombra declared brightly. “We could even do it on company time, so we could get a tax write-off for it! And who doesn’t love feasts? Susan sandwiches anyone? I’m sure there’s enough in there for some second helpings.”
I buried my head into my hands—not wanting to look at the pony anymore. “Can you please go away already?”
It seemed Sombra wasn’t ready to budge just yet. “I told you I was an idea pony! So many ideas everywhere I look! Why… I have so many ideas shooting out of me at all times I should probably be wearing an idea diaper just to catch them all with!”
I snuck a quick peek through the cracks in my fingers to find him waiting patiently. Was I supposed to have actually found that funny somehow?
“Here’s the pitch!” Sombra continued on unabated. “You sell a brand new coffee to every one of your customers for a month, okay? It’s tasty! It’s delicious! It’s hip and it’s fresh!”
“But what’s the catch?” I asked, instantly hating myself for egging him on.
Sombra’s smile widened. “It’s all poisoned! A slow acting poison that kills all who drink it!”
“That doesn’t sound great for return business.”
“But here’s the best part!” Sombra nearly gushed. “We then offer another new coffee in all our stores—the antidote coffee! We charge them a thousand bits a cup so they won’t die and reap the rewards!”
“No,” was my only answer to that.
“But—”
“No.”
Sombra glanced away to think for a moment. “I could… I dunno… be your spokesmen or something. Do commercials and billboards and stuff. I could ‘pretend’ to drink the coffee and say that it’s good. I won’t actually drink the coffee because your coffee’s rather terrible, but I could always lie about it. I even have a tagline ready: ‘Starbucks—good enough for a King! Better make that next order Sombra-sized!”
I glared down at him. “Considering you’re basically the worst creature I’ve ever met in my entire life, I hardly think you’re qualified to become Starbucks’ latest mascot.”
Somehow that didn’t cause Sombra’s grin to disappear. “Although I am still more likeable than that sub sandwich guy right now.”
He had me there. “True. But that still doesn’t change anything.” I awkwardly tapped my fingers along my desk. “Don’t you… maybe… have somewhere else to be right now? Another job interview perhaps?”
Sombra shook his head. “Nope. I’m free all afternoon.”
“Splendid,” I said through clenched teeth. Then I yelled through the open door. “Susan? Is my next appointment here yet?”
“Yes, Charles!” Susan called from the other room. “Want me to send them in?”
Visibly pissed, Sombra gritted his teeth and shot daggers at me. He angled his head to shout into the outer room. “Don’t you dare send them in, Susan! King Sombra is not even close to being done in here! One more peep out of you and you’ll find yourself on very thin ice with me!”
He then turned to me in order to helpfully clarify.
“That’s actually a bad thing for Susan because ice can break under too much weight. And Susan’s so fat that it would break quite easily underneath her. Susan’s fat. That’s what I’m getting at. She’s bigger than most.”
I held a hand up to halt him. “I got it. Very clever. More fat jokes. Now what on God’s green Earth can I do to get you to leave my office today?”
“Simple, Lord Charles,” Sombra explained lightly. “Give me a job.”
Sighing what was left of my soul into the air, I finally told him, “Fine. You’re hired. Welcome to team Starbucks.”
***
The latest customer entered the store and lazily strolled towards the counter—a trail of drool seeping out from between their lips. Without emotion, they asked for the exact same thing the last thirty-one customers had also asked for. Namely: “the most expensive item on the menu times twelve.”
As Susan hurriedly made to complete their order, I took another glance through the shop’s windows to carefully monitor Sombra standing outside. To get him out of my hair, I’d originally given him one of those cardboard signs to hold above his head to try and drum up business. Obviously, Sombra had discarded the sign almost immediately and instead began yelling at passersby until they stopped and stared into his haunting eyes for a short while.
“That creepy little pony’s hypnotizing them, isn’t he?” Susan asked me from behind the counter.
I didn’t answer with words—only a small nod. By that point in time, I felt too tired to even speak much anymore.
“Should we call the police?” Susan ventured timidly.
My shoulders slumped and I sighed. “Maybe after the afternoon rush. Sadly, that insane pony’s great for business.”
When the knock on the door finally came, I almost choked on my mouthful of vodka and orange juice. I’d been waiting for the noise for so long, I’d nearly forgotten about it. As a thin smirk found my lips, I turned to my best friend Jessica on the couch to find her glaring at me with a rising blush on both cheeks.
“You didn’t,” Jessica questioned me sharply. “I told you not to, Denise. What was the one thing I asked you not to do for my bachelorette party?”
“Forget the ice?” I told her with a shrug. “Maybe it’s the pizza guy.”
“But we didn’t order any pizza.”
The person outside Jessica’s house knocked again—louder than before. “Listen up!” they barked out lowly. “This is the cops and you’re all under arrest!Or… whatever police officers usually do with unruly women on this planet!”
“You got me one of those fake dancing cops?” Jessica asked, as she smacked her forehead with her palm. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for something like that.”
Playfully, I nudged her drink closer to her face. “Then take a big gulp, Jess, because the hot and steamy show’s about to start!” I rose from the couch before adding lightly, “And it wasn’t like he cost a lot to hire anyways. I went with one of those cheaper companies. They told me he was new, too. Eager to work.”
“Great. Can’t wait,” Jessica spoke snidely, attempting to hide her faint smile behind her cup.
When I went to answer the door, the other half-dozen girls in the room quickly began buzzing like bees. Everyone besides Jessica had known I’d hired some “entertainment” for her special night. Now I only hoped they’d be worth all the trouble and the medium price tag involved.
“Sorry for keeping you waiting, officer!” I yelled, with my hand on the doorknob. “What seems to be the—”
My sentence ended prematurely as I opened the door to find a three-and-a-half foot tall pony dressed up outside in a small cop outfit.
The dark haired pony held a cue card in front of his face to read from. “Evening, host person. I am officer Sombra and have heard complaints about excessive noise in the neighborhood. Also of naughty women in need of strict and immediate discipline.”
I gulped dryly. Then I tried my best to conceal the costumed pony from the rest of the party. “Sure you have the right address… Sombra?”
Sombra glanced at the house’s mailbox and back at his cue card. “Yes. Completely sure. And it’s officer Sombra. I’m not wearing a fake plastic badge for nothing.”
Suddenly feeling a lot more sober than I was a minute ago, I pinched the bridge of my nose with a sigh. “Look… officer, I think someone’s made a terrible mistake here. When I requested someone for my friend’s party, I used the very specific words: tall, dark, and handsome. I also never used the word ‘pony’ a single time when speaking with your company.”
Sombra raised a mischievous brow at me. “But you also didn’t use the word ‘human’, did you?” He bared his sharp fangs. “And I believe I am the spitting image of tall, dark and handsome. Just take a look at my coat and mane! So dark! And mysterious, too!”
I shook my head at him. “But you’re hardly tall. You’re like half my height.”
“But I am tall compared to other ponies. I’m also in serious need of money right now.”
Officer Sombra wasted no time and hurriedly brushed passed me and inside the house—the faint murmuring in the living room dying the moment he stepped hoof in there.
“Greetings, horny older women!” Sombra greeted warmly, instantly gathering their attention. “I am tonight’s entertainment! So sit down, shut up, and pay attention right this instant!”
The ice in Jessica’s stare was enough to make me shiver on the spot. “Denise? Why is there a talking pony in a Halloween costume in my living room?”
“Umm…” I really had no good answer for that. “You see… there might’ve been a slight misunderstanding when I hired this guy.”
“Slight misunderstanding?” Jessica snapped. “If my fiancée ever hears about this—”
“Hold your tongue and prepare yourself!” Sombra loudly interrupted. “You are Jessica, are you not?”
Jessica’s grimace seemed to be answer enough.
“Good! Then I have you right where I want you! You demand a show, yes? A show full of debauchery and lust, yes? Then I am the stallion for the job—for I am not merely just some silly pony in a costume! I am actually a King of the highest caliber!”
With that said, Sombra used his horn to rip away his cheap police man’s outfit. What was underneath it might’ve been even worse than before.
Snap!
One of the other girls at the party snapped a picture of Sombra on her phone. I turned to her and furrowed my brows. “Seriously? You really want a picture of this?”
The girl shrugged and tucked her phone away. “What? Dancing pony dressed up like King Arthur? My Instagram followers will eat this crap up.”
On Sombra’s back was a blood red cape with a spotted white border. On his head was a thin metal crown that matched the style and look of his other glimmering bits of armor. All I could think about at the time was of those cheesy renaissance festivals I’d gone to as a kid.
Sombra narrowed his eerie red and green eyes at all the women in the room. “I have been instructed by my employer to inform you that you’ve all been very naughty and bad. Why if I were back in my old kingdom, I’d have you all hanged, drawn, and quartered just for being so terrible.” He took one last glance at his cue cards. “I’ve also been told that you all must keep your filthy hands to yourselves during tonight’s performance. I am not just a piece of delicious dark meat for you all to ogle at. Underneath this brooding exterior is a simple pony that only wants a normal life like anyone else—including complete and total control of the world alongside the mass extermination of all alicorns in existence. Having said that… let’s get to the part where I shake my hips in an inviting manner along to music.”
One of the other women at the party grabbed her handbag and rose from her chair.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” Sombra growled.
The woman tensed at once. “I was only… ponies aren’t really my thing, okay?”
“Not okay!” Sombra barked in return. “King Sombra should be everyone’s thing! Now take your seat and prepare to feast on the exceptional figure that is me!”
As the shaken partygoer regretfully returned to her seat, Sombra whirled around to retrieve an old CD player and speakers from the bag he’d brought with him. He used his horn to load a rather scratched-up CD into the machine.
I had to stop him there. “Did that CD say ‘Slayer’ on it?”
Sombra tipped me a wink before he pressed play. “Not just any Slayer. This is Reign In Blood. I know nothing gets my blood pumping more than songs about warm blood falling from the sky.”
Before I could utter another word in protest, the speakers of Sombra’s CD player exploded with the all consuming noise of heavy guitars and screaming vocals.
“Trapped in purgatory… a lifeless object… alive… awaiting reprisal!”
The song continued on unabated.
King Sombra—not to be confused with Officer Sombra by this point—wasted no time and immediately jumped into his dance routine in time with the hectic blaring music. If I had to call his style of dance anything, it would’ve been awkward and stiff. It was almost as if some lanky white guy with far too much charisma had been transformed into a pony and asked to dance. Which was also odd, considering just how dark Sombra appeared.
Shaking his head roughly from side to side, he soon lost his crown altogether and let his mane fly loose and wild. After that, he kicked out with all four of his hooves to let his smaller bits of armor tumble to the carpet below.
At least this ‘dance’ will be short, I thought brightly, when I came to the realization that Sombra was basically out of clothes to remove besides his cape.
Somehow, I should’ve seen it coming.
Even though Sombra only had on one last item of visible clothing, he still managed to spend the next ten minutes sluggishly peeling it off. What made matters worse was that hidden underneath each cape was only another cape a few inches smaller than the last.
“Behold!” Sombra bellowed, once he stripped away his last remaining tissue-sized cape. “My perfectly sculpted plot and posterior! Gasp at its beauty! Tremble at its power!”
Rather than do any of those things in the face of Sombra’s frantically shaking rump, my friend Jessica instead poured what remained of the party’s vodka bottle into her plastic cup and downed it in a hurry.
Thankfully, it was only a few minutes more before Sombra’s show came to a close—once he levitated a bucket full of water over his head to drench himself from head to hoof. Properly soaked, he stopped the music to catch his breath.
“There…” he said tiredly, “you are all now properly aroused. Now someone get me a towel and pay me my eighty five dollars.”
Beside me on the couch, Jessica took another pull from her mostly-vodka beverage and turned to me bitterly.
Jeremy had hardly been at work for five minutes before he wanted to surrender and retreat. Firstly, he'd forgotten his sack lunch at home. Secondly, no one had made fresh coffee in the breakroom, so he’d had to make some himself. Did the title of manager of Mattress King mean nothing to anyone?
Jeremy frowned. And didn’t bad things usually happen in threes?
A trio of sharp knocks on his office door. “Jeremy? You in there? I think we may have a problem on the salesfloor.”
Yep. Always in threes. With a grunt, Jeremy left his desk and answered the door.
“What is it?” he asked bluntly. “Some kid piss on one of the display mattresses again?”
Richard, Jeremy’s second in command, shook his head. “Afraid it’s worse than that, boss.”
“I find that hard to believe. Unless…” Jeremy winced. “Number two?”
“Maybe I’d just better show you.”
***
It was a pony. A unicorn, to be exact.
It was all black and red like it had recently escaped from a local Hot Topic basement. Complete with a smooth, curved horn and blood red cape, as well. Thankfully, the pony hadn’t noticed Jeremy and Richard approach. He was too busy yelling at Mattress King’s one and only imagination-less mascot, Matt the King of Mattresses, portrayed by a poor high school student named Ben.
The moment Ben caught sight of Jeremy, he scurried over. “Mr. Jeremy? You really gotta do something. This… pony… keeps on trying to pick a fight with me! And I really can’t just tell it to go away, can I? I mean… since it’s talking and all. You know how PETA can be sometimes…”
Jeremy patted the foam mascot suit on the fluffy shoulder. “You did good, Ben. I’ll handle it from here. A talking pony that wants a fight? I think we can—”
“You can do what?” a gravely, deep voice asked from near his ankles.
So focused on Ben, Jeremy hadn’t noticed the unicorn marching towards them. The unicorn focused his red and green eyes on him, studying him. Hungrily.
The unicorn said roughly, “So full of lies and slander, you are, mighty ruler of Mattress King. For a start, I am no mere pony. I am a King! King Sombra, to be exact!” With the snap of his neck, he turned to Ben in the mattress costume, causing him to flinch. “And in no regards did I challenge your precious Matt the King of Mattresses to a simple battle of fisticuffs. No! I requested an official trail by combat! Whether that be mortal combat with a ‘C’ or with a ‘K’, I care not! My skills with Kitana cannot be matched! Just ask my roommate!”
Jeremy had no such plans. He wanted to defuse the situation. Fast. If possible.
He held up both hands. “Fine. Let’s start from the beginning. Why is it that you want to challenge our company’s official mascot?”
The pony known as Sombra smirked, unveiling two pearly white rows of sharp teeth. “Isn’t it obvious? Is it not as clear as day? I want to be your new Mattress King.”
Jeremy knew he shouldn’t ask, but he did so anyways. “Okay. Why?”
Down on the floor, Sombra cleared his throat and straightened his back. “Since the moment you opened your doors this morning, I have been studying your business. What comes in. Who goes out. The difference between an air mattress and a waterbed. The hierarchy of your employees and overall complete lack of happiness . Where your bathrooms are located.”
“We’ve only been open for thirty minutes,” Jeremy said.
Sombra brightened. “And yet in only thirty minutes time did I discover just what this place was missing. Care to guess?”
“You?” Richard ventured with a shrug.
“Correct! How smart you are…” Sombra stood taller to read Richard’s nametag. “Ass Manager Richard.”
“It’s assistant manager Richard.”
“I don’t care,” Sombra replied coolly, before continuing. “For an entire two weeks now, I’ve been exploring the working world. One day spent at a horrible coffee shop. Another day spent trying to entertain female humans that wouldn’t appreciate a hot dish if it was shoved right in their faces. And, perhaps worst of all, two nonsensical hours spent at Burger King, trying to tell them how best to take over the fast food world.”
At that, Richard snickered. It was a bad move.
Sombra whirled on him with fire in his eyes. Literal green fire. “Something humorous about my current job struggles, Mr. Ass Manager Richard? Or perhaps you prefer Mr. Ass Manager Dick?”
Richard went stone-faced. “No. Nope. Nothing funny here. Just laughing… uhh… laughing at how dumb Burger King was! Not putting you in charge? Get out of here. Ridiculous. A pony in charge of a multimillion-dollar business? Makes total sense.”
In the blink of an eye, Sombra’s rage vanished. For a moment, he almost looked cute—all happy and pony-ish for a fraction of a second. Until he smiled again, showcasing those darn sharp teeth of his.
“And I’d only begun telling them about my takeover plans. Imagine this! Burger King takes over White Castle! What sort of respectable King is complete without a castle to call his own? Well, their loss. Terrible company, let’s be honest. Beaten every year by Pippy Longstocking and some red-haired clown? Bah! I tried other burger places, but… Hardees? More like Hardlees! Jack in the Box? More like…” He actually had to think on that one. “More like Jerk in the Box!”
Finally, Jeremy took control again. He thought he let the pony rant on long enough. “Well, I must say I’m impressed, but as you can see…” He nodded towards Ben in the Mattress King costume. “We already have a perfectly good Mattress King.”
Sombra’s mouth dropped. “Seriously? But he’s not good at all! I mean… just look at him! How in the Dark Lord’s name does this padded rectangle of a creature strike fear into the hearts of the competition? I bet he couldn’t slash a price in half if his life depended on it! Unlike me! Who has his very own razor-sharp sword! The only reason it’s at home right now is because they wouldn’t let me take it on the bus, but I’ll bring it next time! Promise!”
When neither Jeremy, Richard, (or especially) Ben said not a word, Sombra sluggishly lowered his head and trotted towards the entrance. “All right,” he muttered as he went. “Have it your way. Trademark. I shall depart. Only one last thing… sneak attack!”
BLAP!
A great bolt of red energy shot from Sombra’s horn, effortlessly slicing off Ben’s head. Not his real head, mind you. Merely Matt the King of Mattress’ fake foam headpiece. Regardless, Ben crumpled to the carpeted floor like a ragdoll. He obviously had the right idea. Play dead and hope the pony went away soon.
With a new spring in his step, Sombra crossed the showroom to the two remaining humans, stopping by Ben’s motionless body to nab his large foam crown. Already an audience of early morning shoppers was gathering. And. truthfully, who wouldn’t be curious? It wasn’t everyday that a dark-furred unicorn tried to take over a local mattress store.
Sombra fiddled with the oversized crown until it fit. “As you can plainly tell, I am a true King through and through. If I can’t get what I want, then I take it by force. Or I lie. Or I steal. Or manipulate. Either way, say hello to your new Mattress King! Unless…”
Again, Sombra’s creepy red and green eyes found Jeremy’s. In an instant, he felt as if all happiness had vacated the room, replaced by pure misery and sorrow.
“… this somehow makes you the new Mattress King?” Sombra said. “In that case, I sure hope your head’s screwed on tighter than this crown's previous owner's.”
Jeremy gulped. “Nope. No disagreement here, my new… King. Let’s see now.” Quickly, he glanced around the showroom and grabbed the most apropos object within reach—a long, white neck pillow. He used it to “knight” the dark pony thing. “Now rise… Sir Mattress King. And may your rule be as balanced and comfortable as our new Slumberland twin-sized mattresses located near the back.”
With such a growing crowd around them, Jeremy couldn’t help but plug.
After that, he quickly escorted both Sombra and Richard to another part of the store while Ben took off his mascot costume and went on a well-deserved break.
***
In a quieter part of the store, Sombra unveiled his “master” plan of attack on all nearby mattress and/or furniture stores. He paced back and forth like some pony-sized general as he spoke. “Leon’s… Lowes… that wench Ashley’s Furniture! These are the names of our enemies. Dare not forget them.”
Richard raised a hand. “Don’t forget Ikea.”
Sombra shook his head. “Not yet. Too easy to get lost in such a large and confusing place. No. For starters, we shall systematically destroy and takeover our closest rival. The Brick! And I’m sure you’re both asking yourselves, ‘But how, oh mighty King?’ Well, the answer is as simple as it is deliciously ironic. With the use of one window and one brick—”
“We throw a brick through their window?” Richard answered for him.
Sombra growled. “I don’t remember asking you a damned thing, Dick Ass Man!”
Richard sighed. “It’s Richard. Assistant Manager, Richard.”
“I care not!” Sombra eyed him suspiciously. “And, pray tell, how did you fathom my perfect plan before I told it to you? Stealing the King’s secrets already? Don’t you make me banish you from this fluffy, rectangular kingdom.”
Jeremy stood between the feuding pair. “Here’s a better idea. Sombra? That’s the name, right? If you’re to be our new Mattress King, then don’t you think it would be a wise idea to actually try out some of our stuff? Here. Let me show you this one. Just came in, actually.”
The trio stood before a normal enough looking mattress. A red warning sign was taped to the side.
Sombra poked it with a hoof. “What’s it do?”
Jeremy groaned. “What do you think? It’s a mattress! You sleep on it, of course!”
“Oh.” Sombra poked it again. “I’ve been living on a couch the past few years. This is all still very new to me.”
“Then give it a try!” Without pause, Jeremy grabbed two handfuls of Sombra and chucked him onto the mattress. “It’s called Insomniac’s Dream. Made by some highly skilled tech guys in Europe. Supposed to cure all sleep problems instantly.”
Atop the mattress, Sombra sat down with a thin smile. “Seems rather silly. I toss and turn almost every night.” Then he yawned. “Although… this is…” And yawned again. “Rather soft… and comfortable.” His eyes closed and his mouth slackened. The last thing he muttered before passing out was how the title “Insomniac’s Dream” contradicted itself.
Jeremy and Richard turned to each other.
“What’s the plan now, boss?” Richard asked. “Drive him out to the middle of a cornfield and leave him there?”
Jeremy mused on that. Just as a group of adults with accompanying children gathered behind them. One of the fathers asked, “How much for my kid to take a picture with your pony? Or it is some kind of store special?”
A terrible notion popped inside Jeremy’s head. A wicked, deplorable, dangerous notion.
Yet one that could make him money, too. A whole lot of money.
He told Richard, “The cornfield is now Plan B.”
***
“What do you mean my kids don’t get a picture with the Mattress King?” the latest adult customer asked Jeremy angrily. “I bought a brand-new mattress for this crap!”
Jeremy glanced at the sales slip. “That you did, my friend. Only… you purchased a Queen-sized mattress. I’m afraid the photo deal is for King-sized mattresses only.”
“Then what does a Queen-sized get me?”
Jeremy thought on that. “The use of our washrooms.”
Another customer in the growing line asked, “What about the purchase of a futon?”
“The chance to rethink your life choices that brought you to this point.”
Before Jeremy could answer anymore questions, Richard pulled him to the front of the line—a line forty or fifty people thick already. Jeremy tried to do the math in his head. If each one of them (minus children) had purchased a King-sized mattress in order to get the photo with Sombra, then that meant—
“We’ve got a problem,” Richard cut into his thoughts painfully. “A possible lawsuit-slash-jailtime problem.”
“Oh?”
Richard pointed towards the mattress Sombra was pleasantly sleeping on. Surrounding him were a half-dozen adults and children posing for pictures. An adorable little kid hugged Sombra around the middle. “I love you, Mattress King!”
Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t see a problem.”
That was when Sombra slurred out, still traveling somewhere far in dreamland, “And I… love you…”
Jeremy faced Richard. “Still don’t see a problem.”
“You tiny… completely edible… human child…” Sombra finished sluggishly.
Richard said, “Cornfield time?”
Sadly, Jeremy had to agree.
THREE MONTHS LATER
For the second time in two days, Jeremy watched the local news at home and felt the need to jam his thumbs inside his eye sockets. He drank a beer to help dull the pain.
“Local farm company Quality Corn,” the news reporter read out, “has officially changed its title to The Corn King following three straight weeks of record sales and doubling of market stock prices. Whether this has anything to do with their newly appointed unicorn mascot ‘King Sombra’ or the completely unrelated destruction of nearby competitors’ cornfields over the last several weeks remains to be seen. Regardless, all this recent talk of corn has somehow convinced California-based nu-metal band Korn to officially become a Corn King sponsor. A music video between Korn and The Corn King’s mascot ‘Sombra’ is expected in the upcoming days. Now a look at the weather…”
Jeremy polished off his beer with a grimace. He still felt bitter about it all.
Maybe throwing a brick through The Brick would make him feel better…
