“This situation is all your fault, John.”
“My fault?”
“Precisely.”
“And what, ‘precisely,’ is my fault, Clarence?”
“Why, this situation, John.”
“Look, I couldn’t have predicted that we’d get stuck between floors.”
“You could have anticipated the results of your dietary decisions.”
“Look, how was I supposed to know the chili would do this?”
“Indeed. How could you possibly predict that beans and peppers would haunt you later?”
“Haunting, yeah. Says the man who apparently lives off of only air and the tears of lost children.”
“Very funny. I feel so very fortunate to have a comedian in this situation.”
“At least the power’s still on.”
“For now.”
“Don’t jynx it, Clarence!”
“If anyone were to have “jynxed” it, that would be you.”
“Fine, fine.”
“…”
“…”
“So Clarence, what are you in for?”
“You realize my comment on comedy was sarcasm, do you not?”
“Sure, sure. Gotta make light of the situation, though.”
“Must you, John?”
“Hey, it’s been a tense day, okay?”
“Tense? How ever do you mean?”
“Well, we’re stuck in an elevator, for starters.”
“Present situation excepted.”
“Well, there were a few other things too.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“Nah, it’s a long story.”
“Well we presently find ourselves with nothing but time, so do go on.”
“No, I, uh, I really don’t want to share anything right now.”
“Really? Tight-lipped? You?”
“Hey, it happens, okay? Maybe we should just enjoy the ambience.”
“At present, the ambience is hardly enjoyable, owing to a particular odor.”
“Not that again!”
“Then I think it best that you tell me what you’re hiding, John.”
“Hiding? Nope. Not hiding anything.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope!”
“Nothing at all?”
“Honest.”
“Swear it.”
“On my mother’s grave!”
“Ah. Speaking of which . . .”
“Wait, you’re not gonna interrogate me about my mother, are you?”
“What? Not at all. I’m merely. . . making light of the situation.”
“Oh. I see.”
“Oh! Did you feel that just now?”
“Feel? Feel what?”
“I swear I just felt a chill.”
“I didn’t think you swore at all.”
“Quiet. This is serious, John.”
“Of course, Clarence. It’s always serious with you.”
“It seems to have gotten cold in here all of a sudden.”
“It ha- Oh no.”
“What?”
“Uh . . . we need to get out of here. Now!”
“We’re between floors, John. There’s no opening that door.”
“Not if we hit the emergency button!”
“That’s strictly for emergencies.”
“I consider this to be an emergency!”
“What has you so frightened, John?”
“Why are you so calm, Clarence!?”
“Oh, I’m quite accustomed to encounters with the paranormal.”
“Did the lights just flicker?”
“Yes, I do believe they did. You didn’t do that, did you?”
“How would I make the lights flicker, Clarence!? Let’s get out!”
“Ah, there she is! I was hoping she would turn up.”
“No!”
“John, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
“Get me out!”
“Before I ask her for her story?”
“Don’t- don’t you dare!”
“I do try to be impartial in these matters, after all.”
“Why won’t this button work!?”
“Of course, she doesn’t seem very pleased right now, does she, John?”
“Mother, please! It was an accident!”
The Astral Wanderer is brought to you by the words spoken in frustration while stuck in flatulence-filled elevators. Share this post with your friends, or don’t. I’m not gonna tell you what to do with your life. If, however, you wish to support this content, Patreon is always an option. All proceeds go toward achieving justice for John’s deceased mother. Really.