Tinnese's Question Part 3
He made the people of the worlds a proposition- a strong argument really. Why should they follow ancient traditions that were routed in superstitions and myths? He was so persuasive that a majority of them agreed. After all, no one had seen the One Who Saves for as long as anyone could remember.
The Narrator paused to catch his breath, when he noticed that all of the characters were out of their seats, save the Crow. He sat stiff as a board, with his face full of rage and his fist shaking madly in the air. Peering closer into the two-way mirror, he saw that Nosos and Danny were exchanging laser fire. The Old Man and Tinnese were busy planting plastic explosives everywhere- Tinnese even put a big mound under the Crow’s seat. Symphony, meanwhile, was trying to slink inconspicuously along the outer edge of the factory floor. Every once in a while, she had to dive one way or the other, to avoid being hit by stray laser blasts.
Groaning inwardly, the narrator thought, ‘They’re just like children- the kind of children I never wanted.’ Clicking the button he yelled, “GET BACK IN YOUR SEATS RIGHT NOW!” All of them did so, except Tinnese and Danny, who had just gotten back together. They smiled wickedly as if sharing a private joke, then together punched a bright, red button on a slim, sliver box, which was connected to a straight, short antenna. The result was instantaneous. Everything around them exploded into a fiery, red ball. Nosos, Symphony and The Old Man were running around, trying desperately to put out the flames that licked their behinds. The Crow, meanwhile, had been launched with such force from his seat that the upper half of him was embedded into the factory’s drywall ceiling; while his legs kicked back and forth wildly below him.
Tinnese and Danny were rolling on the floor laughing hysterically, when the three characters- who had finally managed to douse the flames- grabbed hold of Danny and Tinnese, and threw them into their chairs. Symphony and the Old Man held them down, while Nosos latched them to their chairs with a bundle of dirt, drenched towels that he had stumbled across, when his bum had been on fire. “There.” Nosos said, tightening the last knot, “They’re secure. Let’s see them cause trouble now.”
“For my next trick…” Tinnese began, but the Narrator would have none of it.
“AS IN RELATION TO YOUR NEXT QUESTION, TINNESE,” yelled the Narrator into the microphone. Everyone, except, of course, the Crow, covered their ears from the sudden, blaring noise. Taking this as a hint that they should be seated, Nosos, Symphony and the Old Man rushed to each other’s seats, cleared them of debris, and sat down.
The narrator groaned, clicked the mike, and more calmly this time said, “Will you, please get in your assigned seats; and Crow, come down, now!” As they moved to their proper seats, the Crow stopped kicking his legs back and forth, and instead, tapped his shiny dress shoes together three times. With a puff, he was back in his chair, sitting the same as he originally had been before the explosion took place. Turning slightly in Tinnese’s direction, he chuckled low and soft, and said barely above a whisper, “Funny, really, funny. Remember one thing though- I’ll get you back for this.”
“As in relation to your second question, Tinnese,” said the Narrator. “I’ll have to keep this short and to the point, since you’ve wasted so much time. “Since, I’m the narrator, and you are the character. I have the right, the privilege and the responsibility to decide when, where and what happens to you.”
“And yet, you claim there are parts of the story line that you know nothing about.” Tinnese said, interrupting the Narrator yet again.
“When a story grows from infancy, to childhood, and eventually to adult hood, there are bound to be twists and turns that even the Narrator can’t foresee. It’s part of the Narrator’s job to find a way to adapt to each and every situation, when newly, formed words and ideas are flung at his or her feet. Now as for me getting off playing god with your lives; the answer is a solid no. Every pain, every emotional trauma that I put you through, I go through twice myself; for I am the one who must think on these things. Every joy, pain, anger that you feel- is a part of me as well. You can go as far as to say that each of you and your fellow minor characters, are, in fact, a certain aspect of me; and I am in turn, an aspect of another as well.”
“And who would that be? Tinnese asked.
“You know him as The One Who Saves,” replied the Narrator.
