We're All Crazy Here! [Creepypasta Fanfiction]

25: BAD APPLES (Part Three)

For the next few minutes, the illusionist creepypasta sat on the throne room's granite floor and thumbed through Laughing Jack's extensive file.

This included a list of his identifying traits (swirly cone nose was omitted and then rewritten) and a medical report by Smiley (explaining in flowery terms about the aforementioned nose's 'removal' and 'reattachment.')

It ended with one helluva footnote.

*Key weaknesses are [in no particular order]: liquorice, liquorice jellybeans, liquorice candies, liquorice root, liquorice sticks, liquorice-filled chocolates, and death.

With a flick of his wrist, Smirky sent L.J's file spinning over the floor.

"This is a joke; a waste of my time. Whoever wrote it is an idiot."

Swish! Zalgo's tail abruptly whacked on the throne's backing. The prince of darkness glared, leaning forward.

There was an awkward pause, time suspended in silence. His voice fell to a dripping hiss.

"I was Slenderman's co-author before I left his forsaken cult of imbecilic imbeciles! Don't you recognize your own master's handwriting?!" 

A nearby torch exploded.

Smirky ducked his head down, throwing an arm over his face to shield himself from a spray of embers.

"I'm sorry!"

The fire cooled, hissing unhappily at the prospect of being told to poof out of existence by the author. However, it was soon dealt with and disappeared for good.

Zalgo slowly sat up straight again, curling one hand into a fist to rest on. He regarded his servant with a tight-lipped smile. "Stand up."

Without a hesitation he rose to his feet -  if only to move his spine from its uncomfortable pose.

Said spine was quite glad to be free, and gave a friendly pang of teeth-clenching pain in greeting.

"Come closer."

Smirky's feet shuffled over the floor.

A quick thought occurred to him.

He tilted his head, creating an illusion of hopeless innocence by returning the smile sweetly. "My apologies, Lord Zalgo. It's out of my place to question your expertise."

As expected, his pain packed up and left.

"Oh, cut your flattery short and just kill that clown."

"I was wondering if we could negotiate on that ma-"

Abruptly, the prince of darkness lurched forward, splaying his scaly palm over the illusionist's forehead.

"Now.... Do I make myself clear?

When Zalgo lifted his hand, there was no mark, no imprint, nothing.

A strange change had taken over Smirky all of a sudden.

His expression was unreadable – eyes wide and pupils shrunk. It was like he'd been the recipient of an electric shock.

Drip.

Blood fell from his chin; the hidden scar tissue in his lip had split open of its own accord. He nodded absentmindedly, bobbing his head up and down.

Zalgo's voice was quieter than it had been all day, but still laced with disdain. He didn't look at all concerned about the drastic shift.

"Borrow a scythe from my armoury, and make your fight entertaining for the camera."

"Hehehe... This is going to hurt a lot."