Once upon a time in the state of Florida a totally cool guy romanced an excellent lady and everything was pretty rad and groovy.
Okay, no, wait, the other thing.
It was awkward, and embarrassing and kind of perilous at points. But also totally un-ironically the best thing that ever happened.
Florida.
Orlando.
Disneyworld.
The Magic Kingdom.
A certain car in the Haunted Mansion.
-00:20:25
“Dave, this is ridiculous. Am I supposed to believe that amateurish hologram is the enraged spirit of my ancestor returned to collect my viscous sloshing fear fluid in its ethereal horrorsacs?”
In the dim light of the car, he can just make out the way the corners of her mouth are twisting down in boredom. They are being trundled along, facing a plastic-y looking mirror into which an undeniably retro hologram of a green talking head is being projected. Her scarf has slipped down, and the spiked tip of her horns are reflected near the talking head’s nostrils.
“If you are five I have it on reliable authority that this is the most mind blowing fucking acid trip nightmare fuel on the market,” he says and leans back in the seat to better watch her face, light a pond slime colour from the hologram.
“I am not five.” She wriggles around the curved seat and leans round the edge of the car as far as she can go. “Who is this ‘reliable authority’? Is it John? If it’s John then it doesn’t count.”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, standing up in the car and holding onto the edge as she peers along the tracks.
“I can see the other cars.”
“Yes, we’re all on a magical fucking journey of self-discovery into the depths of human terror and shitty animatronics. Sit down.”
Terezi turns to look at him, that needle sharp grin spreading across her face. He is suddenly aware, looking up at her from this angle all grey skin and unseeing red eyes and fucking ice-pick-nailed fingers clawing marks into the plastic of the seat back, of how alien she is.
“Don’t be silly, Dave. I have a far better idea.”
She pulls the scarf right down off her head and hops out of the car. Dave opens and shuts his mouth uselessly. He stands up, for moment he can see her - and then she is gone. A flash of red in the gloom. Before his brain has a chance to catch up with events and tell him that actually sometimes he resembles less of a cool guy and more of a fucking moronic incompetence peddler, he climbs out of the cars and onto the side of the tracks. Somehow, despite all his impressive powers of cognition, he didn’t see this coming.
In the distance, a real human glass-shattering kiddy scream pierces the soundtrack coming over the speakers.
Okay, no, wait, the other thing.
It was awkward, and embarrassing and kind of perilous at points. But also totally un-ironically the best thing that ever happened.
Florida.
Orlando.
Disneyworld.
The Magic Kingdom.
A certain car in the Haunted Mansion.
-00:20:25
“Dave, this is ridiculous. Am I supposed to believe that amateurish hologram is the enraged spirit of my ancestor returned to collect my viscous sloshing fear fluid in its ethereal horrorsacs?”
In the dim light of the car, he can just make out the way the corners of her mouth are twisting down in boredom. They are being trundled along, facing a plastic-y looking mirror into which an undeniably retro hologram of a green talking head is being projected. Her scarf has slipped down, and the spiked tip of her horns are reflected near the talking head’s nostrils.
“If you are five I have it on reliable authority that this is the most mind blowing fucking acid trip nightmare fuel on the market,” he says and leans back in the seat to better watch her face, light a pond slime colour from the hologram.
“I am not five.” She wriggles around the curved seat and leans round the edge of the car as far as she can go. “Who is this ‘reliable authority’? Is it John? If it’s John then it doesn’t count.”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, standing up in the car and holding onto the edge as she peers along the tracks.
“I can see the other cars.”
“Yes, we’re all on a magical fucking journey of self-discovery into the depths of human terror and shitty animatronics. Sit down.”
Terezi turns to look at him, that needle sharp grin spreading across her face. He is suddenly aware, looking up at her from this angle all grey skin and unseeing red eyes and fucking ice-pick-nailed fingers clawing marks into the plastic of the seat back, of how alien she is.
“Don’t be silly, Dave. I have a far better idea.”
She pulls the scarf right down off her head and hops out of the car. Dave opens and shuts his mouth uselessly. He stands up, for moment he can see her - and then she is gone. A flash of red in the gloom. Before his brain has a chance to catch up with events and tell him that actually sometimes he resembles less of a cool guy and more of a fucking moronic incompetence peddler, he climbs out of the cars and onto the side of the tracks. Somehow, despite all his impressive powers of cognition, he didn’t see this coming.
In the distance, a real human glass-shattering kiddy scream pierces the soundtrack coming over the speakers.
Well, shit.
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