dontcallmebugsy (dontcallmebugsy) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2023-02-17 21:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, [plot] quirks, ~jonathan tipton-clarke (dontcallmebugsy |
Don't Call Me Bugsy
Who: Jonathan Tipton-Clarke (and Bruce Campbell in an uncredited cameo)
What: Freaking The Mundanes (Quirks)
When: Friday, the 17th
Where: A Coffee Shop
Warnings: Insects? Language?
Status: Complete (Narrative)
Jonathan was on his third? fourth? cup of coffee. He'd been parked at a table for several hours now, downing coffee and buying the occasional baked good to keep the owners at bay, while he worked on a story on his laptop. He could have done it at home, or at the Arcane--there were desks available if you wanted to work at them--but he liked the coffee shop.
There was something about being surrounded by other people coming and going and eating and drinking and talking and laughing while he worked that he found soothing. If someone had told him it was because it reminded him of life in Manhattan, surrounded always by millions of other people, he'd have laughed at the revelation and agreed.
He was engrossed in his story and his research, so it took a while for the change to percolate into awareness. The constant background noise of conversation and laughter had vanished. Jonathan looked up and felt a chill. Everyone in the coffee shop was staring at him. Everyone, even the people who worked in the back were standing in the doorway or peering through the pass-throughs at him. A few held up their phones, taking pictures or videos.
They looked horrified, or terrified, or just nauseated. Why? Why was everyone staring at him and having such strong reactions? He looked around, seeing nothing unusual. Then he looked down at himself. Oh.
Emerald green wasps were crawling all over him, and over his laptop, and the table in front of him. Some were flying around, making occasional forays into the rest of the coffee shop, prompting patrons to jump away or swat at them. If he thought about them, he could get a swarm's-eye view of the coffee shop. One wasp got flattened with a rolled up newspaper; Jonathan felt its death like a sharp pinch on the arm. He recalled them with a thought.
But that wasn't worst of it. Jonathan knew that from experience. It wasn't the wasps flying or crawling around, or crawling over him that freaked people out. It was seeing wasps crawl out of his sleeve or his collar, or emerge from his curly hair. Or worse, disappearing into his hair, his sleeves or his collar. Worst of all, though, was seeing the wasps emerge from his skin, or meld into it. He'd seen people run screaming from that.
"Jesus, dude!" one scrawny patron said, finding his voice now that Jonathan was looking around. "What. The. Fuck?"
"What?" Jonathan asked. "You haven't ever seen a man turn into a swarm of wasps before?"
An older man, middle-aged, maybe, with dark hair graying at the temples and a chin that could most charitably be described as "heroic" stepped out from behind the counter. He wore a small name badge with the word MANAGER beneath his name. "Sir," he said, "I'm gonna have to ask you to leave the store."
Jonathan met his gaze. "Why?" he asked. He was already packing up his laptop, but he wanted to know how the guy would answer.
"The insects," he guy said, gesturing with his substantial chin. "It's a health code issue."
Jonathan nodded. "Good answer," he said. He drew all the wasps back. The crowd reacted with the unease he expected to the sight of the insects melding into him as if slipping beneath the surface of a pond. In only a moment, they were all gone. But not forgotten. Jonathan could tell by their expressions that a number of other patrons would never look at him the same way again.
A minute later he stepped out into the cold, bleak light of a February day. He looked up at the dome that he couldn't actually see but knew was there. "This is your doing, isn't it?" Jonathan had better control than that. This had to be the dome up its tricks again.