“Pres-TOOON! Preston Weston!!”
“I’m right down here ma. I must — I must have fell out of the funhouse somehow, heh. Cool, though.”
“I can’t see you Preston. Lots – of – wind. And you’re *right here*?”
“Yeah, ma. I’m standing kind of right below you. Heh, like I said. No, hum, wind where I’m at.”
“I’m going to walk a little further and try to find solid ground again. Can you hear me?!”
“Yeah, like I said. Right below you.”
“Alright! I’m walking!”
“Cool, cool.”
“Alright Preston Weston! I’m going to try to teleport you up to my location! When you see the invite just accept and hopefully — can you hear me!?” The wind was behind her now but still quite noticeable.
“What!?”
“Walk to-ward my voice!”
—–
“I see you again up there, ma. Can you hear *me*, heh!?”
“Yes! So — look for the invite!”
“Okay, ma!” Preston Weston sees the invite but accidentally closes the dialog box while hovering over it. “Um, ma?!”
“Yes, Preston Weston!”
“Can you send me another invite!? I kind of fumbled that one, heh!”
Your Mama sighs, then tries again. That useless, fuzzy brained kid, she thinks. Never paying attention to what he’s doing. How many coats and jackets has he lost now? She’s lost count. And the umbrellas!
“Ta daa.”
“Thank God. *Don’t* wander off again. Stay by my side until we reach the end of this thing. Whenever that is.” 100 lindens, she thinks. Well, it was something to kill a Saturday afternoon with Boy Wonder.
He turns after announcing himself. “Neat-o. A periscope. Is this a submarine?” He tries to grab onto the handles but finds he can’t. “Aw Jeez.” But then he sees the ship through the viewer anyway. “Look ma, a sailing vessel. Full of gold bullion and maidens with big apples most likely, heh.”
“Preston, just stop it with the apples. I don’t want to hear about the apples again. What did we talk about?”
“That I wasn’t suppose to talk about women’s apples?”
“That’s right.”
“Like Mrs. Appletree’s apples,” he pronounces.
“*Especially* Mrs. Appletree’s, pheh.” She shakes her head for about the hundredth time in the funhouse. “Why don’t you focus your attention on her daughter Felicia, instead? She’s a little older than you, but she’s in most of your classes.” I can’t take away from Preston Weston that he’s smart, Your Mama thinks. If only his grades would keep up with his imagination. And Felicia Appletree is top of her class — might be a good influence.
“Alright Preston. It’s time to figure out a way to get out of this room. You’ve done it before.”
“We’ve done it *everytime* before. We had to go through all the other rooms to get to *this* room. Uh, ah, I’m kind of tired, ma, heh. Can’t we just go home?”
“No, “persists Your Mama, set in her ways. “We paid 100 lindens apiece for this game and we’re going to see it through to The End.”
“Jeez ma,” Preston Weston exclaims again. He starts looking around. “Well, heh, it looks like this is another easy one. Not like the one with the ants, pheh.”
the one with the ants
“I didn’t like that one either,” admits Your Mama.
“Yeah, heh. Looks like you just go up this ladder, ma.”
“Well? Go ahead.”
“I might fall into the Between World and be lost forever if I’m wrong.”
“You’re not wrong. I think this is an easy one too.”
“Not like the ants.” He eyes the ladder again. For some reason, he doesn’t want to go up it. He senses…
“Oh for Pete’s sake.” Your Mama brushes aside stalled Preston Weston and ascends…
—–
“Preston! Pres-TOON!” But Your Mama’s son couldn’t hear her now. She was truly sealed off. Because this was the real submarine room. The ham submarine sandwich room. The Room.
END OF “COLLAGESITY 2019 MIDDLE”!
*Ba dump bump.*
Sunklands 