Oh, no.
“Look what’s become of your baby boy.”
Oh, Garcia’s Briefcase of Infinite Felonies, you were meant for a better end than this.
“I contain all realities, but exist in an embarrassing one. Look at me: I’ve been ensconced.”
You have.
“I am an anchorite.”
You are not a monk bricked up into the walls of a monastery to provide the building with a soul made of penitence.
“Those Medieval fuckers took their symbolism a lot more seriously than we do. But, yeah, that’s me. I’m an anchorite. I’m here to make the place holy.”
Okay, yeah, a little. You sure you’re not a relic?
“A relic is a knuckle, fuckhead. I’m a living, breathing briefcase. Well, not breathing. Not that anyone even checked before shutting me up in Magneto’s jail cell here.”
Did you eat Peter Shapiro again?
“Five times.”
You’re shitting me.
“I’ll be telling the story forever. The first time I swallow people and send them into the All, they generally don’t know I can do such a thing. So that’s on me. Shame on me for eating them. But every time after that? At least 50/50.”
Sure.
“Anyway, I spit Shapiro and his buddies out and they go running. Next day, our boy comes back and I was really gonna give him a chance, but he was wearing pukka beads. Down the hatch.”
No argument here.
“Standards above all. The third time, I am not proud of, but I am also not a liar: I seduced Peter Shapiro.”
Really, Garcia’s Briefcase of Infinite Felonies?
“Yes. The man loves like a stallion, but he insisted that my safe word be ‘fuck,’ so it was a stop/start kind of encounter.”
That’s not how safe words work.
“And then I ate him. Fourth occasion was a ninja-style home invasion. His family was home, and witnessed the entire event. That’s another checkmark in the ‘not proud of’ box, huh?”
Leave families out of it.
“It’s a good rule.”
Fifth time?
“During my apology for the ninja-style home invasion. His family was present, et cetera blah blah. I just got nervous.”
So you ate the whole family and sent them to the…what did you call it?
“The All. It exists within me. I am your stock-standard magickal bag of holding, brother, you know that.”
What’s in the All?
“Everything, plus all the other stuff.”
How do you find anything in there?
“What you need is where you thought it was.”
You’re gonna be all cryptic and shit?
“It’s magick, dummy. You want an equation?”
True.
“I let ’em all out pretty quick. Of course, ‘pretty quick’ is relative. Time works weird in there. Oh, and at least one of the kids’ evil twins came back instead of the original kid. At least one. Someone should ask Shapiro whether any of his children seem off lately.”
Off?
“Looming over the bed while you sleep, murdering the pets, do they suddenly know Latin? That sort of thing.”
Dammit, Briefcase, I’m sorry to see you like this.
“Maybe this is the right place for me. After all, there’s a shooters special. Two bucks a shooter. That’s before 9 pm, of course.”
Don’t make it worse.
“It’s okay. I put a curse on the joint.”
Yeah?
“Yeah. May you never realize what you’ve done.”
I think it’ll take.
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