But Obvious to Whom?

"This is entirely too psychedelic!" you shout. As if on cue, the instrumental portion of "San Francisco Girls (Return of the Native)" by Fever Tree begins playing over the intercom. Two girls enter the room and recite beat poetry. They read it badly.

Not so much at the girls as at the whole world, you begin screaming. "Where is all the gratuitous transformation? Where are the centaurs? The fauns? The werewolves? I was expecting a bleeding circus, and I haven't seen so much as a box of popcorn around here! I want my money back."

One of the girls begins to cry, but the other hands you a vial of orange liquid. "Calm down," she pleads. "I wasn't supposed to give you this until tomorrow, but if you're going to make a fuss, take it now."

You press the vial to your lips and suck down the contents. They taste pleasant enough, but you feel no different, even after several minutes have passed. "What's the holdup?" you ask before surveying the room. Then you realize that both of the girls have become beautiful sirens. "Never mind," you say, and they begin to sing you a lullaby.

Written by Joey Liverwurst (edited by phaedrus)

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