Do you want to tell me a story (pt. 3)

duct tape. the rainbow then began to unravel and the tape refastened itself around several members of the crowd...seemingly innocent but warthogs in disguise.

...but straight up demonic looking. One walked ahead of the other and spoke with such a voice that can only be sung by Celine Deon. Despite the horrific and devilish appearance of the warthogs, they were truly a blessing in disguise, the exact opposite of the Greek Sirens. A second one came forth, this one with a saddle mounted on its back. PJ jumped on, as directed by the first warthog, and the were off riding across the grassy, gently rolling hills of the beautiful countryside. After a 45 minute journey they reached their destination. . .

everything sound that came out of his mouth sounded like Celine's voice, and instead of just speaking became singing!

....moments before he realized, 'WHOAH! Wtf is a magical beaver doing here...and how is he magical!?! How did I just KNOW this?' PJ asked the beaver...

and by the time that PJ motioned #5 and started "Rick-Rolling" the crowd the beaver had had quite enough. Normally a docile, peace-loving creature, he slapped PJ so hard with his tail that...

...and landed in a pile of...

thankfully he knew that he was only two days away from the Roo magic mushroom fountain, so he ate the last of his corn and started searching for that tesseract.

Bonnnnarrrrooooooooooo!!!!!

suddenly a deus ex machina fell out of the sky in the form of a giant tome of how to get through the plot. PJ hurriedly rushed past all the pages to the current dillema, but in doing so saw many directions to go in the past, present and future as this was a severely disorganized but quantum tome full of all possibilities. this became too much for PJ to think about, so M Night Shyamalan morphed into a bookworm working himself as a deus ex machina to solve the issue of having found an overwhelmingly illegible deus ex machina tome. M Night Shyamalan proceeded to explain to PJ all of the future plot twists in this timeline and that since PJ is a fatalist he cannot change such, which empowered PJ with the ability to join the cult of subgenius, who were secretly conspiring to slack in giving a flying quack about any of it and eat their pie, which tasted like

it tastes like chicken...no, that was too cliche. He tried to place the familiar and yet unusual taste and suddenly realized that it was white truffles from Perugia and black Beluga caviar. "my, the cult has expensive taste", he thought to himself.

...flashes of multicolored light started leaking out of the pores in his skin!

For these were not ordinary flashes of multicolored light that leaks out of pores, these were supernaturally-charged flashes of multicolored light that give those hit by their grand nature superpowers, depending on the color. PJ lost interest in the effects of the various colors on the surrounding cultists of subgenius after the first red ray turned Bob Dobbs into a very adamant street preacher with the ability to procure change from anyone, as PJ needed soda machine money. So he followed Bob Dobbs, who struck fear into the hearts of many for their money with relentless Jonathon Edwards sermons. This really didn't do PJ any good, though, because he was a terrible page and wasn't paid for his services, so he...

pulled two colored markers he habitually kept there; one blue, the other green, both the same size and permanent. A small turtle shell, the carapace or top, hung from PJ's neck on a long, looped leather strand. The shell had become bleached, with the natural markings faded like weathered Aztec stone reliefs. Carefully coloring the concave surface of the carapace, PJ mapped a design for the pleasure dome. Using blue and green markers, thin, colored lines played and entangled with one another on an opalescent background underneath the turtle shell.

he watched the hawk fly west, the silhouette slowly growing smaller and darker. At a point the raptor's wings resembled the hands of an old mechanical wrist watch. The wings/hands of the watch were level and steady. One pointed left, the other right, 180º from one another. Time was frozen and disappearing.

PJ felt some urgency to decipher the time indicated by the receding silhouette. He strained his memory to remember the time when time was pointed out by rotating hands sweeping slow arcs across small white disks laid upon by Roman numerals... The hawk's shadow was shrinking to the point where distinguishing one wing from the other was difficult. "I'm losing time," PJ said to himself. Then a memory resurfaced, and two sets of numbers rose from his confusion, "3:45" and "9:15" he whispered. But, by this time the hawk was no longer discernible against the vast expanse of sky.

PJ looked at the digital watch on his wrist. The watch was broken, but blinked the same set of digits, never changing, never advancing. "Blinking 4:20," PJ said with some exasperation, rolling both of his eyes in full 360º arcs. He quickly blinked a couple times, then held his eyes shut using some effort to keep them closed.