Praline Peril
by Rivka Crowbourne
Their names are Bob and Tim; ghastly, sinister names! They lead me through the nightmare halls of this white-rubber dungeon, this hell of insanity where horror lurks in every doorway, every face. Everyone here is mad, hiding their pitiful minds from the hideous truth. But I know. I know!
First, I must behold the freakish obscenity that is Reggie. He thrusts his PILL upon me: a small, green capsule of some gruesome vitriol. I struggle feebly, but Bob and Tim force me to swallow the PILL. Mortal thews are no match for their evil powers. They look vaguely bored, but I can hear the ghoulish laughter echoing in their twisted, vulpine souls.
And now... Now I must face their terrible master! Dr. Oldman is he: a portly, balding prince of the abyss. As his fiendish slaves seat me across the cruel metal table from him, fear breaks through the haze of the PILL and I cower helplessly.
“Good sorrows, Michael,” he says in a venomous hiss. “How’re you feeling today?”
“End this charade,” I whisper. “Destroy me.”
“You’ve been here for over two years, buddy. Don’t you think we might’ve gotten around to destroying you by now, if we were going to?”
“I know your secret!”
Oldman sighs insidiously, doubtless a signal to an accomplice. I cringe, but the lethal blow does not fall. Why do they toy with me?
“Michael, there is no secret. You were playing the old drinking game where you listen to ‘Roxanne’ by The Police and do a shot every time Sting says ‘Roxanne,’ except instead of doing shots you dropped tabs of acid. You’ve been on a bad trip since 2022.”
I shudder and await his demonic vengeance.
“Anyway, it’s a beautiful day out there, and I think some fresh air might do you some good. Tim’s going to take you on a walk through town. Just a quick jaunt, and we’ll see if it helps your nerves a bit.”
I can feel the blood drain from my face. His wickedness surpasses my darkest dread! He will send me... out there?
“Come on, pal,” Tim rasps like the scion of perdition that he is. “Let’s stretch our legs a little.” And his steely pseudopods clamp me in manacles of despair.
* * *
The town! Winged grotesqueries flutter through the bright screaming chasm of the sky, the arch-terror beyond the clouds sends forth blazing yellow rays of madness, and the menacing agents of iniquity wave at us and leer with their glistening ivory fangs. We walk aimlessly, like lunatics, through the senseless, crooked streets. I know that I go to my death. But when will they strike? When?
“Nice day, huh?” Tim gurgles. “Whattaya say we get some ice cream?”
As we enter the haunted shell of the ice cream shoppe, I brace myself for doom; but their talons remain veiled for now. The store is empty. Tim calls for Mr. Carlton — a devil’s name! — but no one answers.
“That’s weird.” Tim opens the door to the basement. “Hello? Mr. Carlton?” We hear a low, anguished moan from below. “Mr. Carlton! Oh my God, are you all right? Michael, stay here!”
He descends into the murky netherworld beneath; and I, summoning my fortitude, defy his tyrant’s edict and follow him down the stairs. For I recognize the torment in that moan. It is the sound of one who has seen things too monstrous to describe!
Carlton lies upon the floor, shaking and drooling uncontrollably. “It came from the Pralines,” he mutters.
“What? What came from the Pralines?” Tim fumbles for his cell phone and dials three beastly digits, but before he can speak, Carlton lunges forward and clutches at him.
“The Nameless One! It was... in... the...” And he collapses, groaning like the damned.
Impelled by something I cannot understand, I move toward the Praline Ice Cream. Tim glances up. “Hey, Michael, let’s not touch anything, okay? I think the cops may want to—”
But he is too late. I open the Pralines and it comes forth once again! I see the lashing tentacles and the palpitating maw stretched wide to devour the very stars. I see the true evil beyond all universes. And then everything goes black.
* * *
I awaken back in my bed. How I loathe this torture rack, this engine of sloth, this... this... Huh. Actually, it doesn’t seem so bad now that I’ve gazed upon the Horror from the Pralines. My door opens to reveal the hated form of Bob, and I shrink away. Then I take another look at him. Jeez, what the hell was so scary about this guy? He’s just some flabby orderly.
“Michael,” he says in a pretty normal-sounding voice. “How are you?”
“Oh, er... not too bad, I guess. How’s yourself?”
He peers at me. “Well... we’d better have Dr. Oldman talk to you. Come on.”
We head back into the halls, and he takes me to visit Reggie as usual. I gotta admit, the PILL doesn’t sound so bad right about now. “Yo, Reggie!” I say cheerfully. “Hit me up with a red pill and a blue pill, let’s see what happens when you cross the streams.”
“You know, that sounds like a good... Wait, what the what? These aren’t recreational, man.”
“Hey, it’s cool, I’m not gonna narc. Who’d believe a loony anyway, am I right?”
“This dude ain’t crazy,” Bob mutters and pulls out his radio. “We need Dr. Oldman out here, stat.”
“Wow, you guys really say ‘stat’? Just like on E.R.! Far out. But seriously, Reg, how about just a purple pill? That’s like red and blue pre-mixed, yeah?”
At that moment, Dr. Oldman appears. Boy, is he not intimidating anymore. “Michael,” he says gravely.
“Heya, Doc. What’s shakin’?”
“What’s ‘shaking’? I’ll tell you what’s shaking, my friend. Timothy the orderly and Mr. Carlton — the ice cream man — are shrieking in strait-jackets right now. They’re both in some kind of hyper-advanced state of paranoid hysteria, and you suddenly appear to be as sane as a summer’s day. What the hell happened in that basement?”
“Oh, yeah, that. We encountered The Nameless One.”
A brief silence ensues. “I’m sorry, you... you encountered the what now?”
“You know, the horror from beyond the stars? It’s a big... Actually, I’d better not describe it, I’m pretty sure you’d go mad. As for Tim and the ice cream fella, we probably just need to whack ’em out on acid. I know a guy.”
“Whack them... Are you seriously proposing that we treat them by a deliberate overdose of a controlled substance?”
“Why not? They’re not gonna get any crazier. I mean, I’m just saying, apparently it worked the other way around.”
“Look, I need to know about this thing you saw. Was it some kind of alien?”
“No, no... More like we’re the aliens, like the whole cosmos... Wait a minute. The real question is, why are we still here at all? Why didn’t it consume the Earth? It definitely had an ‘Earth-consuming’ vibe going on.” Then in a flash it hits me. “Of course! It’s not here for the Earth. Doctor, I must return to that basement at once.”
“I’m afraid that’s completely out of the question. You’re not going anywhere until we figure this out. Robert, escort Mr. Faber back to his room immediately.”
“Before you do that,” I say reluctantly, “maybe I’d better describe The Nameless One after all. You see... Glar’yoth remnarbleg! Hagthrim f’yildrikthorb! Thalthothep zeblohir!” Luckily, my contact with the Praline Horror seems to have up-loaded my brain with its hideous inhuman language. By the time I finish my description, Reggie, Bob, and Dr. Oldman are screeching and clawing at the walls.
A dozen security guards come running into the room waving clubs and tasers, and I have no choice but to explain the situation to them as well, in the Nameless Tongue, of course. I hope this place has a few extra beds. “Sorry, guys,” I say to the writhing, gibbering horde. “Don’t worry; I’m gonna fix this.”
Back into the pleasant, sunny town I go, and back to Mr. Carlton’s quaint little ice cream shoppe. Fear and doubt beset me once again, but I must take action. The destiny of our planet is in my trembling hands.
Back down the basement stairs I go, and back to the faintly quivering tub of Praline Ice Cream. Mustering all my resolve, I open that accursed vessel, and it comes forth once again!
Yarg’lethbuurnab ovlegbrak, maa’aan! it howls within my mind, and lo! the words take shape and meaning in my mind. Who dares to harsh my mellow?
“It is I, Michael Faber. I come in peace!”
Like wow. You wanna get down on these Pralines, man? They are sooooo righteous.
“Um-no, I’m good, thanks. Listen: is there any way you could finish up those Pralines in, like, another plane of existence or something? We kind of need the space down here.”
Oh, totally. I didn’t mean to be in the way. Lemme just snag all the Pralines in the spacetime continuum real quick and I’ll be right outta here. Peace, brah!
A moment later, The Nameless One is gone, and every Praline in existence is gone as well. But you know, folks, perhaps, at the end of the day, that’s a small price to pay for the preservation of the universe.
So! I’ve recovered my sanity, confronted the horror from beyond, and saved the human race. Unfortunately, I can’t call it a day just yet. I’ve gotta go score a shitload of acid.
Copyright © 2024 by Rivka Crowbourne
