Down the Rabbit Hole

You know couples? I’m starting to feel like I’m part of one, even though I’m not, because that would make Nibbles a Third Wheel*, and Third Wheels don’t usually share most of the talking…unless they’re married…or in that kind of relationship…anyway, he’s not. I’m not.

I just happen to be morally obliged towards ensuring a certain someone doesn’t get himself killed- by coincidence, by debt and by lack of a better alternative. It’s turning out to be bloody hard work.

My decision? Yeah, thanks. Now I can’t not “help”, because I’ll feel like an arsehole if I don’t.

He couldn’t have picked a more awkward place to do it, either…stupid angelical white bastard…there’s only one way to get down a cliff without any ropes. Obviously he can regenerate, so that soup of melted HD tiger holds no fear (providing he remembers how to find the exit). Ned knows how I “help”.

Maybe it’s fake. Possible, but unlikely. I doubt he’d have bothered with the whole death sentencing shebang if it hadn’t involved any actual death. It smells like death- just imagine throwing that up.

Who are you talking to?

…where have you been hiding?

I’ve always been here. It was surprisingly easy to avoid being noticed during the execution of four caped adolescents in such an expressive location. All I did was stand VERY still a few meters away near that sun-spot, see?

Uh-huh. You’re looking good. Is this known as puberty in engineering terms, or are you past that stage?

Har har. I learnt how to re-program myself, as you have evidently noticed. SOMEONE gave me a body that was quite simply too small. I have revolutionized myself.

Or put on weight. You sure it’s easier being that size? You’ll have to stoop to get on buses, you won’t fit on a normal seat, and they’ll definitely start charging you adult fares- probably parking tickets too. What’s the point of translating anything when you’re big enough to stomp things?

It’s my body and I will do with it what I want! What are you doing, anyway?

Deliberating over the definition of “help”. Does it count if I write a eulogy?

Probably not.

Damn. Any ideas that don’t involve changing my wardrobe to suit the occasion?

HAR! I think you need to jump.

That’d suit you, wouldn’t it? No thanks. You try it, it’ll take a lot longer with all that added bulk-

Didn’t you see the…thing…take HH into it? They didn’t die, they disappeared. It’s like a leap of Faith.

I don’t have any Faith!

That’s the point! You, sort of, get Faith by jumping…I think…

What do I have is this uniform, some copper’s badge, a packet of cigars and…a small flask that says “Drink me”…huh. HH must’ve put it there on the way in. He must have. Unless I’m reading myself again, like the time I sang happy birthday to myself-

-or the Joker put it there-

– or it’s just a hipflask. It could be that.

It could be dangerous.

Wha- you were telling me to jump into a flaming lake of lava just a second ago! Don’t tell me I can’t “try” this! Stick to what you’re good at, as I alw-

-never-

-ays say. I never thought I’d say this, but the old Nibbles was an improvement. You couldn’t interrupt me back then. It was nice.

So you’re drinking it?

Why not? If it goes bad I can always “try” both, after all. Cheers!

*gulp*

And?

…just a hipflask filled with vodka. Not bad, vodka, but it doesn’t help either.

Immolation is your only choice then.

Yeah, yeah, sugarcoat it NOW why don’t you! You coming with, or are you going to paint a picture?

Maybe I will, he he he…

If you do, may I suggest that the lava needs just a touch of Burnt Umber, barely a smidgen, just enough to add crisp to the flecks of ash dotting the surface layer, do you see?

…you’re insane. Genuinely insane. And yet, saying that, of course I’m coming with you…

Why?

In case you turn into a bloody penguin again. Besides, I liked HH. He was someone I recognized who wasn’t you.

If this does turn out to be a leap into death, you know, I won’t be too unhappy. Anything to shut you the heck up.

Oh bite me. Now, on the count of- wait a second! Wait!

Bit late for that now, flying through the air like a bucket full of bricks. I really, really hope this is going to be worth it. I don’t fancy the idea of meeting Death because THIS seemed like a good idea.

As it transpires, all I manage to hit is darkness. Completely bloody darkness, thicker than a lobotomized shed, visible exclusively in every shade of impenetrable black.

I don’t think I’m dead-

“Do YoU waNt To eAt Me?”

W

*Which is never as useful as the notion of having a third- additional, extra -wheel suggests. It’s actually rather awkward.

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