Pinky

Now, I will not tolerate being called a stalker. I prefer to be called a follower. Why, you may ask? Well, I don’t dig for information on people. I get to know enough about someone until I am content. It is a passion of mine. As a member of the Huge Salary (enough to pay the bills, I guess. Maybe not, now that I think about it.) writers club for a newspaper and working part time as a computer security consultant, one could get bored of just going to work, clocking in, and then going home after work. There has to be some excitement. To put it simply, my hobby is to follow someone for a couple of days, watch them, and learn a few facts about them. It is like opening a book and reading a few pages before closing it and setting it back on the shelf. Before you say anything, I am NOT a stalker. I don’t hound them for days on end. I just sit nearby and listen. Think of it like a podcast, or whatever you listen to. Or better yet, a video streamer. They held live sessions and I was a “follower”.

I have a place I go to when I want to find someone new. I do not go to the mall or a bar. I go to a psychologist’s office. Why? The people who are convinced that there is something wrong with them so much that they have to go talk to a total stranger for a large sum of money. Usually, all I get are a few small time men and women who are a tad bit lost in what their next move in life is going to be. Occasionally, I get a few interesting cases. Like a woman who was convinced she was a duck for three whole days. That was amazing. Imagine the better the following, the better the experience. Following is my drug. Then, I followed the big one.

First of all, this guy was packing big bucks. Not big bucks as in a good suit and a nice car, I mean BIG BUCKS, like every little thing he had on was bling bling up to the ceiling. CEO sort of stuff. He came in and sat across from me, and picked up a magazine. This guy was clearly not comfortable being in this three star (three stars at best) psychologist’s lobby, and he held the magazine by its corner, as if it was contaminated. Well, to be honest, it probably was. He looked a tad bit impatient, and was tapping his foot with an unsteady rhythm. Besides that, he was well dressed, sat prim and proper, and held a steady gaze. I was following a woman who was in a mental crisis with her husband, but that was run of the mill romantic drama. I was getting bored, so this guy looked perfect. After about ten minutes of cheap candy (the shrink had this bowl of butterscotch. It must have been from the 1950’s, but who cares? It was free.), Dr. Bor came out and asked for someone named “Mr. Ivan Wolcrust”. Weird name, but hey, we all have weird families. I was thinking that Mr. Wolcrust was the fat guy who had a serious addiction to Twinkies and was coming to this psychologist to talk about alcohol. Dr. Bor should have just suggested a diet by now for the cow. I am surprised that I didn’t know what the cow’s name was. Low and behold, when Mr. FancyPants gets up and walks into the office.

As a dedicated follower of the following arts, I had installed a small device in Mr. Bor’s office. It is a camera that records in remarkable detail and has excellent audio. It does not mean that I am a stalker. It means I want high quality videos for my hobby. I turn on the camera, which is wireless, and find Mr. Wolcurst sitting in a beaten leather chair across from Dr. Bor’s very faded leather chair. I hid the camera in there after I pretended that I had a fear of dogs. Dr. Bor does like his leather furniture. He even had a leather chaise couch. Dr. Bor was trying way too hard to be a professional looking psychologist.

“Mr. Wolcrust, it is a pleasure to have you at this establishment, but why have you come here, out of all places, in downtown New York? From observation, it seems like you could have afforded a more…well known psychologist.” Dr. Bor asked. He was asking the same question if I would have been talking to him.

Mr. Wolcrust leaned forward. “I don’t want word to get out that I am visiting a psychologist. Reputation matters up the corporate ladder, Dr. Bor. I need an answer to a question that would make my associates and business partners want to pull out of deals because they might think I sound crazy.”

Dr. Bor moved forward as well, his face showing curiosity. Like when he talked to the duck woman. “And what would that be, Mr. Wolcrust?”

The next part was so quiet, that I almost didn’t hear it. “I saw a demon in my bathroom.” Mr. Wolcrust whispered.

Dr. Bor (and myself for that matter) were shocked. I have no idea what was going on in that noggin of Mr. Bor’s, but my noggin had a lot of questions. This guy saw a demon? He looks perfectly sane. Was he doing drugs? Was he drunk? Was he drunk and high? I have been high. You could say that it was fun. There was some weird crap. But, alas, the officer who pulls you over at twelve o’clock, he probably won’t find it that fun.

Dr. Bor kept a solid face. “A demon? Care to explain?”

Mr. Wolcrust sat back in his chair. “I believe that it is a joke. Maybe that came out a bit too dramatic.” He crossed his hands. “I went into my bathroom, and did my business like always. But when I reached for the toilet paper, there was none. I thought I had requested a few extra rolls, but when I looked in the cabinet, there were no toilet paper rolls. That is when a short man came out of my shower. He was an odd looking sort of guy. He had a gold mask that had a slit for a mouth, and he wore an Asian conical hat. He was wearing crimson robes. The guy must have been using some advanced tech or just had a good costume on, but his hands looked like the hands of a skeleton. His whole costume was tattered and sort of dirty, and he must have had a fake katana on his back, for there was the handle of a katana on his back. I don’t know what he was dressing up as, but I guess it was some sort of Japanese warrior cosplay or something. Then, the guy held out two rolls of toilet paper. I swear I heard a voice that was almost ringing when he asked, but it sounded like he was talking under water. Imagine a bell had a voice and it was talking in a bowl of water. He asked me, ‘Red or blue?’ Of course, I tried asking him if it was a joke, and he just stared at me, holding these rolls of toilet paper out. At this point, I was sort of annoyed because he was holding two rolls of toilet paper that he probably took from my bathroom. So, I said blue. He just put his hands in his cloak, and disappeared. I don’t know how. He was there one moment, then after a quick black flash, the little beast was gone. When I looked at the toilet paper roll, there was a blue roll on the holder. I have no idea how it got there if the guy was standing in front of me and never moved. So, I need an answer, doctor. Am I going crazy?”

Dr. Bor was still keeping a stone face. I have to give him credit, because I almost burst out laughing at how this guy sounds like a fruit cake. He then answered Mr. Wolcrust, all professional. Way to go, Dr. Bor.

“I believe that it may just be from stress. You could be stressed enough to start seeing things that aren’t there. I am guessing that you must have been tired enough to believe there was a demon in your bathroom. It is odd how your hallucination was this vivid, but it can happen. Perhaps you were just tired enough to believe that a demon had offered some toilet paper because you were tired enough to not want and grab some. It could have been that you were sleepwalking, and just dreamed the whole thing. I think you just need rest. Do you have family members who have had schizophrenia, or any other mental diseases?”

“No.” Mr. Wolcrust said.

“Then I suggest you get some sleep. For the next couple of weeks, you can come visit me to try and see if this is from stress and overworking. I recommend rest. If you still keep having these hallucinations, I suggest seeking out a professional doctor and getting a check up to see if you have a mental disease. Do you have any more questions or concerns?”

Mr. Wolcrust said that he did not. They then started talking about cars, which was decently interesting, since I worked part time as a mechanic in highschool. Still, not what I came to follow.

Mr. Wolcrust looked at his watch. I have to tell you that it was fancy looking, but not a Rolex. He was going against the grain of stereotypical rich guy. I bet he felt all warm inside to know that he was different. He told Dr. Bor that he had a meeting and had to go. He pulled out some crisp bills.“I believe that should cover at least one more meeting. You may keep the change. See you next time, whenever that will be.”

And just like that, Mr. Wolcrust was leaving. I watched him leave via cameras. He had a fancy car further down the street. When a chauffeur opened the door and he climbed in the back, I knew that he was even richer than I thought. He was on top of things. I had no idea what job he had, but it must have been paying way more than what I was getting paid. Until I followed him to the most expensive penthouses in New York! I mean, he was obviously carrying big bucks, but the more I followed him, he just seemed to get more and more rich. That is when I remembered his name. He owned one of the biggest companies in New York, Temple Industries, challenging several companies in the stock market. I remember reading an article about him, and that he likes living near his office. Probably for one of those rich boy rituals you hear about. Which just so happens to be right across the street. While I was following his car, I made a call to my boss and took the next two weeks off. I said that I had to visit my dying grandma. Jokes on the boss, because my dear granny had been dead for years, rest her soul. Still, she makes a good excuse. I felt that this would be the most exciting person to watch. Well, maybe not the most interesting person in my follower career, but he would be up there. Besides, I hadn’t taken a vacation in forever.

When I realized who this guy was, I was trying to figure out how exactly I could get near one of the biggest men in the world. They are among the richest and most powerful men of the century. So, when Mr. Wolcrust went into his office building, I went into the building that would have his home. I pulled out one of my fake IDs (don’t judge me) and pretended I was a maintenance man. It worked out a little too easily, as the secretary just waved on through. She even handed me keys to his penthouse. Why would you do that? I have no clue. But she did it, and I am not complaining at all. I thought I was going to have to pick his lock. You are probably wondering why I am doing this. This guy was huge. I had to set up cameras in his penthouse. I had to know what was up with him. I felt like his biggest fan. I probably was for the time being. Anyways, I get up there, and I open the door. It is a nice place, full of the most expensive furniture options available. But I wasn’t interested in his furniture. I was looking for places to set up my babies. My cameras that I could link up wirelessly and watch live. He wouldn’t be able to see them unless he knew he was being watched. And, well, the point of being a follower is not to be seen. I set up a camera in each room in the darkest corner. The cameras were small enough that they would not be seen, unless he really focused. They were quite expensive, but it was worth the price. I made sure they worked, and when I was satisfied with the quality, I walked out. You know how easy that whole thing was? It was just too easy. If I was an assassin, I could have just sat in there and casually killed him. I guess rich people care about their privacy. I gave the keys back and went out to my Watcher. My Watcher is just a van with some surveillance equipment I have picked up over the years, mostly from old government agents. I just tell them I protect people’s houses through surveillance. One agent even gave me my small cameras. It looks like one of those Volkswagen hippie vans. The man I bought it from says that it came out in 1943, but that is impossible since the vans came out in the 1950s (huh, same age as the butterscotch). It is a tad bit different from the other vans of its time, with a whole windshield rather than the classic split windshield. Since I was a mechanic in highschool, I think I at least qualify to say that. The hardest part about following a person is parking in a spot that is not suspicious. Luckily, there was a parking lot I could park in. It looked like there were a few people who lived in their cars, which means that the police in this area were nice on the poor whose only roof above their heads was their car roof. I had everything I needed for the next week. The bathroom was across the street, but my cameras could record, so I would just watch what I missed while Mr. Wolcrust was asleep. I had the mind of a night owl. Plus, there is nothing a liter of Mountain Dew and a case of Monster can’t handle.

The meeting seemed to take forever, but he finally went across the street into the penthouse. I waited for him to get to his penthouse and there he was, right there on my monitor. He seemed to just be going through the motions. He cooks his own meals. Tonight he had some sort of fish fillet. I think it was salmon, but I could be wrong. Wolcrust then worked on some paperwork for a couple of hours, which, I have to admit, was pretty boring. In the beginning, it was very boring. It was literally a rich guy taking a chill pill after work.

That was until he went into the bathroom. I do not watch people do their business, so I usually don’t set up cameras in the bathroom. Mr. Wolcrust’s penthouse was perfect, because I could set up a camera that saw about half the bathroom. That means I could watch him without being disrespectful. If someone clearly has the intent to do something personal, I just turn off my monitor until I feel like they took care of it. When I first began my passion, I didn’t realize just how crazy people get. A guy decided it was his birthday and ran around in the celebratory attire. That was a mistake I would never make again.

I was about to turn it off, when something caught my eye. I left it on, and what I saw next was amazing. Mr. Wolcrust walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Then he saw what I was seeing. Standing outside of the shower was a short, cloaked figure. It matched Mr. Wolcrust’s description from earlier. Its cloak was covered in tears and symbols. I noticed that it had the Japanese symbols for “red” on its right sleeve and “blue” on its left. It also had the katana on its back. The conical hat it wore was really big on the little guy. I thought the little cloaked guy would fall over. I saw part of the golden mask, but not too much. The angle of the camera didn’t allow me that liberty. It just stood there watching Mr. Wolcrust. It was a little creepy that it was watching him like that.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my home?” Mr. Wolcrust asked the man. I think it was a man, as it didn’t really give off girl vibes. You know what I am saying.

The red cloaked midget just stood there some more and then disappeared. Like some sort of messed up fairy godmother. Poof. Gone. I kid you not. It was there on the monitor, and then it just disappeared. I couldn’t believe it. Nor did Mr. Wolcrust. I guess he thought it was just a hallucination, because he just shook his head, went over to the sink and started splashing his face with water. I presumed it must have been some sort of technology. Nothing could disappear that fast. Maybe someone set up a hologram? I had no idea. Pretty advanced stuff, like it was straight out of a movie.

So, someone is playing a joke on him. Cool. I get to watch one heck of a joke on one heck of a guy. I wait for him to get done going to the bathroom and then log on to find that he is in his bedroom. Only, he was not the only one in his bedroom. At first, I thought it was a blur on my camera lens, but it moved. It was quite an odd sight. Probably way weirder than the Crimson Midget. First reason why it was way weirder was that it was pure pink. Little girl pink. Princess pink. Bubble gum pink. I don’t know how to explain it. It was just pink. It had two huge eyes, that were pure black like two blots of ink. Its mouth? Looked like it was stitched on. Its legs and arms? Stumpy arms and legs, that were basically just pink poles that stuck out of its body, with five fingers on each hand (no palms, just the fingers sticking out of the end of the stump), and no toes. Nose? Didn’t see one. Wings? Yep. Dark purple wings. Ears? I think it had ears. It had two tufts of fur on top of its head. Small horns I think if they weren’t ears. It was most likely genderless. Hard to say. It was one big mystery. It was floating at the end of Mr. Wolcrust’s bed, the stitched mouth slightly bent upwards, like some sort of doll smiling.

Mr. Wolcrust jumped when he looked up. He looked each direction as if to see someone rushing in and singing Happy Birthday. Yippee Kai Yay! No one did. The thing was still there. I checked the status of my cameras, and there were no problems with them. They were fine. The only thing that was not fine was Mr. Wolcrust. Because at that moment, he started crying. It was a few tears at first, but then he was full out bawling. The dude turned into Niagara Falls. He was writhing on the floor. It would have been almost hilarious if I didn’t see the things he did.

“I am going crazy.” Mr. Wolcrust sobbed. “I am going crazy. I am seeing things. I am going crazy. I am stressed, and confused, and alone, and, and, and….Crazy!” He broke off his sad tirade in another fit of sobbing.

Pinky watched him for a bit. I noticed that the mouth looked more like a frown. Not to mention, its eyes looked sad. It hovered there for a bit until it landed on its stumpy legs. The wings disappeared and it walked up to where Mr. Wolcrust was on the ground. What happened next was almost cute. Almost cute. The thing was still creepy. It put a stumpy arm on Mr. Wolcurst’s shoulder and just stood there, as if providing comfort. Eventually, Mr. Wolcrust stopped sobbing and turned to Pinky. They stared at each other, and it seemed like they were studying each other like two strangers.

Mr. Wolcrust decided that he should try to touch it. I guess to decide if it was real? I would have slapped it to kingdom come. He almost touched it, but then it darted out of the room and into the bathroom. For a couple of seconds, it was out of sight from the cameras, but then it peered around the door frame, black eyes studying Mr. Wolcrust. It came out of the bathroom and started to approach Mr. Wolcrust slowly. It stood a foot away from him, and then extended out one of its arms. Mr. Wolcrust reached out and touched the hand. It had these little stumpy fingers that stuck out of the end of a stump, so I am going to call that the arm. I don’t know, I don’t study demons. That’s right, I am calling it a demon. Just because it looks cute and provides a little comfort, doesn’t mean that it is not a demon.

Then it nuzzled its head into Mr. Wolcrust’s hand like a cat. He seemed to be a bit awestruck. I bet he still thought it was a hallucination, but I knew it wasn’t. Cameras don’t pick up hallucinations. They weren’t the best cameras in the industry, but they were pretty advanced. Then he started to pet it. For goodness sakes, he just started petting Pinky, as if this was a daily thing. At this point, Mr. Wolcrust wasn’t crying anymore. In fact, he was smiling. Pinky was sleeping, or it was resting with its eyes closed. Mr. Wolcrust picked it up, and set it on a chair. He climbed into bed with his shoes on (this was annoying to me, as I don’t tolerate shoes on a bed. It bugs the heck out of me), and promptly fell asleep. I knew that he was for sure asleep, because he started to snore louder than a jackhammer. Pinky woke up about twenty minutes later and hopped off the chair. It then waddled into the bathroom and hopped into the bathtub. I could barely see the upper half of Pinky even though it was standing in the bathtub. It started to fiddle with the faucet handles, and the water came on. It looked like it was hot, but the demon just sat underneath it. It looked like Pinky liked the hot water. It started running around the bathtub, letting off small happy sounding shrieks. I couldn’t see half of the bathtub, so what I saw was this: a pink blur running in the view of the camera, then disappearing behind the door frame. Then it came back, and repeated the process. It was like watching “Peek-A-Boo!”.

Mr. Wolcrust abruptly woke up to these shrieks and to the sound of the water and ran into the bathroom, to find Pinky still having the time of its life. Mr. Wolcrust just stood there watching. Pinky stopped playing and stared right back at Mr. Wolcrust. Mr. Wolcrust walked over and switched the water to the faucet. He sat there with Pinky until the bathtub filled up with water. He then turned it off and went back to bed.

Pinky floated around in the bathtub. For a while, it stayed awake, but it eventually fell asleep. Or whatever demons do when they rest. It closed its eyes at least. I watched for about another hour before I felt like nothing else too exciting was going to happen. So, I decided it was time to take a nap as well. I had to be on my toes with this one, or I might miss something important. Who knows what this pink ball would do next?

The next day, I woke up and checked the cameras. Mr. Wolcrust is asleep, and the bathtub is full of water. I don’t see Pinky until I check the other cameras. Pinky had punched a hole in one of the cupboards and was eating what looked to be some party crackers for salad trays. Pinky was opening that stitched mouth and sliding handfuls of crackers at a time. It would reach in and shove a handful of crackers into its mouth before chewing. It didn’t know how to chew with its mouth closed, as cracker pieces flew out of its mouth and onto the floor. Messy little beast. I could see its teeth, which were sharp spikes that were as clear as glass. They looked to be made of glass. It tossed the box to the ground and proceeded to try and climb a set of drawers. Pinky wasn’t that successful as it pulled out one drawer, and sent it spilling all over the ground. Spoons, forks, and butter knives clashed to the ground. Pinky tried to climb some more, but it just ended up pulling out more drawers and sending utensils clattering to the ground. Pinky bounced off the ground and made a squeaky toy shriek. Mr. Wolcrust rushed out of his room to find Pinky amid all the utensils. It was clearly shocked that it had failed to reach the counter. It was like watching a man find his pet dog chewing apart a pillow.

I was surprised to find that Mr. Wolcrust just walked by Pinky and picked up a phone off the counter. He dialed a number and pressed the call button. He waited for a little bit, until the other end picked up. He told the person on the other line that he wasn’t coming into work today. He must have called his office. Mr. Wolcrust put the phone down and looked at where Pinky was still lying in the carnage. It had picked up a spoon and was now chewing on it with enthusiasm. Mr. Wolcrust walked back into his bedroom and into his bathroom. Pinky stopped chewing on the spoon and followed Mr. Wolcrust. The spoon was bent up, and was missing part of the scoop part.

I couldn’t see what was going on, but Mr. Wolcrust still had a hold of reality enough to know when he should have privacy. Mr. Wolcrust picked up Pinky and set it outside the door as he shut it. Pinky walked over to the bed and pulled a pillow off it. It then proceeded to chew the pillow. I heard running water which meant that Mr. Wolcrust was taking a shower. When he came out, he looked much cleaner and more awake. He was wearing some shorts. Pinky was being treated as an individual, not some sort of animal. When he saw Pinky chewing on the pillow, he ran over and pulled the pillow out of its mouth. Mr. Wolcrust held the pillow. He seemed to be still confused as to whether Pinky was real or not. I heard him start mumbling under his breath.

“This is crazy.” He said. “Absolutely crazy. This is just a figment of my imagination. Or, if it is not, what kind of animal is it? Is it some sort of monkey, or rare species of goat that walks on its hind legs?” Mr. Wolcrust looked down at it. “What are you?”

Pinky looked at Mr. Wolcrust and shrugged. It seemed to do a lot of staring. It barely blinked at all. It extended a stumpy hand out for the pillow. Mr. Wolcrust ignored this and tossed the pillow at the bed. Pinky was not too enthusiastic about this and climbed on the bed. It walked over to the pillow, promptly picked it up, and started chewing it again.

Mr. Wolcrust gave up and started to get dressed. First, fancy pants and then fancy undershirt. Then, he put on his suit jacket, with a white pocket square. There was something off about it though. His suit wasn’t as straight as it had been. It was slightly wrinkled, and his tie was bent out of shape. He was different from what he was yesterday. Today, he seemed like a common business man rather than Ivan Wolcrust. He walked over to the door leading out of his apartment, and put his hand on the door knob. Pinky noticed and quickly hopped over to him. It grabbed the leg of his pants and pulled.

Mr. Wolcrust looked down at it. “You can’t come along. It is too dangerous out there. You could get hurt. Besides, I can’t be seen with you. You would spoil my reputation. I will be back from Dr. Bor in about an hour or two. Just don’t pee on anything.” Mr. Wolcrust then slapped his forehead. “You can’t understand me! You are just an animal. Whatever sort of animal. I am going crazy. Talking to animals? Me? Mr. Ivan Wolcrust? Unbelievable.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the penthouse. When Pinky tried to follow him, he held it back with his foot.

I watched as Pinky stood at the door. Pinky turned around, walked over to where a door led to a balcony, and opened it. I watched as Pinky walked out onto the balcony, climbed up the railing, and leaped off the balcony. The little creep just leaped off like it was no big deal. I had set up a few cameras in select locations around the surrounding area. Each of these cameras could see down the street. I found Mr. Wolcrust got in the back of a car, but I could not find Pinky. It had just disappeared, like the Crimson Midget. Pinky was not there.

I was part right and part wrong. I was right as that Pinky had disappeared. I was wrong because Pinky was still there. It was just invisible to everyone except Mr. Wolcrust. I found out due to how Mr. Wolcrust was acting. He was about to get in the back of the car when he suddenly stopped and reached for something. He said something that the cameras couldn’t pick up. Then, he grabbed thin air, like grabbing a basket of clothes, and got into the back of the limo. This got a few weird looks from the people nearby. Then the car drove on.

I decided to take a nap until Mr. Wolcrust arrived at Dr. Bor’s office. Despite what he said, he was not going to be back in a couple of hours. It takes about thirty minutes just to get there. A rich guy who just has to walk over to his workplace wouldn’t really know that. I turned on the camera in Dr. Bor’s office and went to sleep. If I woke up later, it won’t matter. My cameras had long memories, and they didn’t mind sharing some of that memory.

I woke up about an hour and a half later. By some sort of luck, Mr. Wolcrust had just walked into the office. They greeted each other and Dr. Bor offered some coffee. Mr. Wolcrust declined.

They both sat down from each other again. “How are you feeling, Mr. Wolcrust? You don’t look so good.”

Mr. Wolcrust tried to smile, but it seemed sort of weak. “I am doing fine. I think I need some medicine. I just can’t sleep that well.”

“I can’t do that. I am a psychologist, not a psychiatrist. Tell me what is wrong.”

Mr. Wolcrust itched the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I just can’t sleep that well. I feel drained and uncomfortable and itchy and hungry and…” Mr. Wolcrust’s voice faded. “I just feel horrible.”

Mr. Bor jotted down some notes. “I didn’t think you look that bad. It just seemed like you weren’t at a hundred percent. Have you been seeing anything? Have you seen the demon in your bathroom? Or anything else out of the ordinary?”

Mr. Wolcrust was about to say something, but seemed to stop himself. He was looking over at Mr. Bor’s chaise. I looked in that direction and noticed that there were scratch marks forming on the chaise, making deep cuts in the leather. Mr. Wolcrust mouth dropped a little, but he recovered before turning his attention back to Mr. Bor. “No. I have not seen anything. It has been normal. I just don’t feel well. Maybe I am just sick. Or, like you said, just stressed.”

Mr. Bor seemed to think that Mr. Wolcrust was not telling the truth. But he let it slide. I guess he thought it was nothing. Maybe he thought it was just a rich guy whining. “Mr. Wolcrust, is there anything else you want to talk about? Besides feeling horrible?”

Mr. Wolcrust looked down at his watch. He stared at it.I heard him talk under his breath. “Tik tok.”

Dr. Bor looked up from his notepad. “Did you say something?”

Mr. Wolcrust stared for a couple more seconds before paying attention to Mr. Wolcrust. “I didn’t say anything.”

“So? Anything else you want to discuss?”

“I have to go. I have a meeting with a partner of mine.” He pulled out a clump of dollars. The whole bunch was wrinkled, unlike the crisp note he had handed before. “That should cover it for now. I will come back tomorrow.”

Mr. Wolcrust was about to walk out, but at the last second, he dashed over to the chaise and grabbed the air. Mr. Bor jumped, unaware of what Mr. Wolcrust was doing. Mr. Wolcrust pulled the invisible, but without a doubt, Pinky off the chaise. He smiled at Dr. Bor, and walked out of the office, awkwardly holding air, like some little kid holding his imaginary friend.

I knew what I had to do. I had to get a camera in his bathroom. It had to happen. That demon had spent a whole night in the bathtub. Action was across the house, but the bathroom was a hotspot. So, I took advantage of the amount of time it would take Mr. Wolcrust to get home and grabbed the fake ID and pretended I was a maintenance man again. Once more, the secretary gave me the key without asking too many questions. Man, the security there absolutely sucked. Anyways, I set up the camera. I check the other cameras to make sure everything is going fine, and notice a thin layer of a purple powder. I tried to wipe it off, but it stuck to the lens. It was made of grains, like sand. I decided to leave it since the vision from the camera feed seemed perfectly fine. Even though there was a thin layer of purple crystals, it didn’t change the color of the picture. I left the penthouse and went back to my van. While I was waiting there, I went to get a gulp of some more Mountain Dew. It was empty. I reached for my backup bottle. It was empty as well. When I tried to grab a can of Monster, I found a can. But guess what? It was empty! I usually had a bottle of Monster Dew (Monster and Mountain Dew mixed if you were wondering) for these extreme cases, but it was empty. Looks like I haven’t done a stake out like this for a very long time. If you drink the liquids I drink, you will know that this is not acceptable. I needed my energy!

There was a convenience store across the road. I had done business in the form of bathroom breaks over there. Seeing that it was the only way to restock my drinks, I decided that it was a tactical choice. I walk over to the door, and it opens up with a hiss. I walk in, and I try to find my Dew. They are not that hard to find, all stacked up in a pyramid. I walk over to the counter, set down my drinks, and get slapped in the face.

That’s right! The chick just up and slapped me in the face. I was opening my wallet to get some cash, and a hand just reached out and made me see stars. As I reeled back, I heard the cashier babbling in Japanese. I recovered, and looked up to find the cashier starting at me, holding a bat.

“Whoa, whoa! I am not robbing you! Please don’t hit me!” I held up my hands. I did not plan on being slugged by some cashier. My head was not a baseball.

She looked as white as a ghost. The cashier seemed to get paler the more she looked at me. “I am so sorry! I thought you were an aka manto.”

I kept my eye on the bat. “What? Is that some sort of gang?”

She set the bat down, shaking. “I saw an aka manto in the bathroom the other day.”

I had never heard of an aka manto until now. She was cuckoo.“What the heck is an aka manto?”

She pulled out a yellow piece of drawing paper and showed me what was on it. It was a beautifully drawn picture, but it was creepy at the same time. The artist had blurred the background. The amount of detail was amazing. Seeing what the picture was of was even more of a shock. It was the Crimson Midget. It stood there with two rolls of toilet paper in skeleton hands. Its cloak was tattered, and the Japanese symbols for red and blue were in gold on its sleeves. The hilt of its katana was peeking over the Crimson Midget’s shoulder. From this angle, I could see the Crimson Midget’s face. It was covered in a golden mask. Its eyes were two pits of black. Its mouth was a slit in the golden mask. It almost seemed to be smiling. This reminded me of how Pinky looked like it was smiling. The thing was, it wasn’t smiling. Or, if it was, it was not out of happiness. The picture almost seemed alive, the paint glittering in the light. It looked as if it was giving me a choice. Red or Blue?

I looked at the cashier’s face. “That is one scary picture. How did you get it in such good detail? It looks like it was drawn by a professional. And why did you think I was that?”

“I have no idea how I got the drawing. The picture was just there. Your red sweatshirt made me think you were the aka manto.”

I looked down, and noticed that I was indeed wearing my red sweatshirt from college. I remember the time I was eating potato chips and watching some cartoons in college. I think I watched some of the first episodes of Sponge Bob. Don’t know, hard to say. I was probably high as well. You know, druggies and the munchies. Actually, you shouldn’t know. Don’t do drugs, kiddos. I was roughly seventeen when I started college. My mom always said I was a bright bulb. School had been easy, as had college. My mom had also said that I would get a good job and make lots of money. I think life had a good laugh out of that. I don’t really think about what I am wearing when I follow people. I just sort of wear whatever. It seems that my college chill sweatshirt had been the clothing of choice.“Well, I guess that makes sense. What is an aka manto exactly?”

“An aka manto is a Japanese urban legend. It offers the choice between red and blue toilet paper to people in public bathrooms. If they choose either one, they die a horrific death. In my family, my grandma said that it was even older, as my great grandfather died similarly to how the legends go. I thought it was just a story, until it opened the bathroom stall and an aka manto gave me the option. It sounded like a human with a tin bell voice was talking underwater. It asked if I wanted red or blue.”

“How did your grandpa die?”

“He was strangled, which according to legend, he picked blue. If he had picked red, he probably would have been flayed.”

I shuddered. That is what I thought the picture seemed to be asking. That is what Mr. Wolcrust said Crimson Midget asked. Now, she was saying the same thing? Weird. Also, why the heck is the demon going around offering toilet paper? Did the Charmin toilet paper company do this? I mean, they do have the colors of red and blue. “How did you get out alive? Did you run from it?”

“I tried to run, but it pulled out the katana on me, blocked my way, and asked again. I said green and it disappeared. I feel like it is still here.”

“Wait, this happened today?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you still here?”

She seemed to almost cry. “If I leave, the gang might come for payment. And if I am not here, they will take all the money from the cash register. I have to pay the bribe.”

“What is your name? I didn’t catch it, since you almost knocked my head off my shoulders.”

“Sakura Ito. Yours?”

“Philip. Philip Wallace. Nice to meet you properly.”

“Likewise.”

I checked the time. I had about thirty minutes before Mr. Wolcrust arrived back home. “I have to go soon. May I buy my drinks?”

She started to ring up the items. Sakura finished up, and asked for the money. I pulled out some crumpled dollar bills and handed them to her.

Before I could even stop myself, I asked “Hey, want to get a cup of coffee someday?” I totally felt like Einstein. Classic pick up line, bro. Want to get a cup of coffee? Real smooth. And there. There is some romance for you romance wakkos.

She smiled. I have to admit, she was quite pretty, despite the fact that she looked like she had her soul scared out of her. And that fact that she was almost responsible for knocking my head off. “Sure.”

We exchanged information, such as where to meet. I grabbed my drinks and hurried back to the Watcher. I waited for Mr. Wolcrust to get to the penthouse. He arrived later, and he looked even worse. I could tell from a distance that he just looked horrible. His chauffeur looked very concerned, and was urgently saying something to Mr. Wolcrust. Mr. Wolcrust ignored him and walked into the building. He arrived in his penthouse shortly after.

First thing I noticed, his clothes were in even worse condition than before. There was a tear at the seam where the sleeve of his dress coat meets the shoulder. He had swapped the white pocket square with a crumpled red square that was unfolded and coming out of his pocket. His eyes looked more sunken in. He seemed more pale, and his skin looked to be drawn tight over his skull. He walked in a crouch. His eyes were bloodshot so bad, that his eyes were almost pure red.

Mr. Wolcrust walked into the kitchen and started flinging cupboards open. He would see packets of food, and tear them open. You know how a wolf eats the corpse of an animal? It was just like that. He would eat anything he could get his hands on. Coffee grounds, cucumbers, raw meat. If he had it, he ate it. Mr. Wolcrust did this for about ten minutes, emptying the penthouse of food. His hand would occasionally zip behind his head and itch at his neck, or reach up and rub his right eye viciously. Always his right eye. I didn’t know why.

He was soon grabbing empty boxes, and after checking to see if they had any more food, he started to bite himself. I almost puked as he tore a chunk out his arm and ate it. This seemed to wake him up, as he looked down at his arm in horror. Mr. Wolcrust puked himself, and ran to the bathroom. He pulled off his suit jacket. I was astounded. His arms were covered in scratches, some being mere scratches while others were deep gashes. The back of his neck was the worst. It was the only amount of exposed flesh besides his hands. He had scratched himself on the back of his neck so much that it was leaving a red streak down his back. He took the square out of his pocket and wiped the back of his neck. I realized that it was the white pocket square. It had dawned upon me that Mr. Wolcrust had dyed the piece of cloth with his own blood. He sat on the toilet, head bent.

Mr. Wolcrust sat there and wrapped the part of his arm he bit with some bandages he found. Then he started scratching his arm. The skin started to turn red from irritation, then red with blood as it dripped on the floor. He scratched to the bone before he stopped. The thing is that Mr. Wolcrust didn’t cover up this wound. He left it exposed. He went into the bedroom. The white shirt he had on was covered in spots of crimson. Mr. Wolcrust started to pace around the room. I forgot all about Pinky until it came into the room. Pinky was bigger than last time. Its eyes now looked like some one had shot a paintball gun with black ink at its face. Its stitched mouth was bigger, curled even more upward. But it still didn’t look happy. It looked very sad. It watched Mr. Wolcrust go back and forth, making a trail of blood from the blood dripping from his arm and multitude of wounds.

Pinky came into the room and came over to Mr. Wolcrust. It grabbed his hand. Mr. Wolcrust looked down. He smiled. I shuddered at the sight. His teeth were pure white, and the canines looked bigger and more pointed.

“I was blessed with a child. The child seemed to come from heaven.” Mr. Wolcrust said. “It healed my wounds, and made me see the truth.”

Mr. Wolcrust sat down on the bed. There was a dull growl coming from him. He stared at his watch. “Tik tok, tik tok, tik tok, tik tok, tik tok, tik tok. Round and round and round the clock. Three sets of four. That is how we go.” He said.

Mr. Wolcrust looked in a mirror. He saw his own reflection. But there seemed to be something off. The reflection didn’t seem right. Then I saw something that made my blood turn cold. The reflection waved at Mr. Wolcrust. I heard a voice that sounded like Mr. Wolcrust. In fact, I saw his mouth move. But it was not Mr. Wolcrust. It was Ivan. I know that Mr. Wolcrust’s first name was Ivan, but this thing was different. It was like Mr. Wolcrust, and it talked like him. They shared the same body, but they were different beings.

“Hello, Ivan. How are you feeling? Feeling hungry? Feeling itchy?” Mr. Wolcrust seemed to say to himself. A hand shot up and grabbed his right eye. Next thing I know, he plucked it out of his eye socket and threw it. It bounced off the carpeted ground, a morbid bouncy ball, staring without seeing.

“Much better. Isn’t that right, Ivan? Or is it Mr. Wolcrust? Mom’s the only one who calls us Ivan. Or she did. But she is ten feet in the ground. A bed that is nice and sound.” Ivan threw back his head and laughed. I knew that it was Ivan, not Mr. Wolcrust. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, just way more twisted. If that is possible. All of a sudden a knock came at the door. Ivan’s eye shot to look at the door. There was a demented look in that eye.. Mr. Wolcrust was out of commission. Ivan had taken control.

The secretary opened the door. “Mr. Wolcrust? Are you okay? Charlie said that you weren’t looking that good. Mr. Wolcrust? Are you in here?”

She walked in the living room. I wanted to scream for her to get out. I wanted to come out of my camera and pull her out of that apartment. The lair of Ivan. But, there was nothing I could do but watch.

Ivan got off the bed, arms dropped to his sides, the white hands clenched into fists. “A fly stuck in the spider’s web. They struggle, but it is useless. It is dinner time. Fly, darling, meet Mr. Spider.” I heard him whisper. He slowly walked out of the room. The growl continued, a steady din in the dimly lit penthouse.

Mr. Wolcrust walked into the living room. The secretary shrieked. “Mr. Wolcrust! What happened? What happened to your eye?”

Ivan extended his arms. “I am fine, Kira. Please call me Ivan. How are you?”

Kira was horrified. “You need an ambulance.” She pulled out her phone. She tried to turn it on. But it didn’t come on. “How has it died? I just charged it.” She continued to try and turn it on by holding the button down to restart it.

Mr. Wolcrust walked out of the room as she was trying her phone, going into the kitchen. I heard him chuckling, but I didn’t pay attention to him.

I was so focused on Kira that I wasn’t watching Mr. Wolcrust. Next thing I know, I see Kira with a knife coming out her neck. She grabbed at her neck, trying to comprehend what just happened, phone dropping to the ground. I looked at the other cameras, and found Ivan standing in the doorway of the kitchen. His missing eye gushed with blood coming down in a solid stream of red. The growl grew louder, his smile wide.

“Charlie knows nothing. I am perfectly fine. Everyone else is crazy. I am Ivan Wolcrust! No man is as sane as me! Not even that Dr. Bor!” As Kira fell to the ground, Ivan approached the dying secretary. He held his hands behind his back, whistling “Don’t Fear the Reaper”. Ivan stopped at her head, looking down with his one eye. He watched her, struggling to grip to life. Ivan bent down. “Wow. How did she die? Didn’t her mother charge her with life when she was born? Looks like she forgot to plug in the charger.” He straightened up and released a wild cackle. He stomped on the knife. Kira stopped moving. She was as dead as her phone. Ivan looked down at her.

“Look at that!” Ivan said, pulling the knife out. “She is as dead as a doornail! Dead as a mouse! Dead as Mom!” He threw the knife into the wall, stabbing a picture of Mr. Wolcrust who was shaking hands with a man in a suit. The grass cracked, severing the head of the man. Ivan looked down.

“So… hungry.” He reached down towards Kira. Before Ivan could touch her, he started to convulse. Maybe it was Mr. Wolcrust battling for control over his body. Mr. Wolcrust seemed to have won temporarily, for he looked down and screamed. “No! Kira! What have I done?” He seemed to convulse again. Ivan took control, making Mr. Wolcrust’s mouth split into a grin.

“What do you mean, what did you do? It is what we did, Ivan! We did this!” Ivan started to convulse.

“Stop fighting, you wimp! You can’t run from what’s in your head! Just ask all the addicts and the crazies! They always get caught by the booze, the pills, or a figment of their imagination! Ask Dr. Bor! Just ask Mom! Remember? She blew part of her head off when her number one boy told her to get a life!” Ivan said to Mr. Wolcrust. Ivan started to do that growling laugh, but stopped to cough. Suddenly, Mr. Wolcrust’s eyes fluttered back into his head, and Mr. Wolcrust fainted.

Mr. Wolcrust didn’t get up. He was still alive, because he was breathing. Pinky walked over to him and pulled out some bandages. It started to dress the wounds. Pinky then climbed into the bathtub. It turned on the water. Pinky proceeded to go to sleep. I checked all the cameras, still in shock. I couldn’t believe it. I checked the cameras’ connection, their power, everything. They all read that they were fine. It was clear that Kira was not fine. I didn’t want to believe it. But it was real. The cameras don’t lie. For the first time, I was wanting them to lie. I didn’t want to watch it. It was a nightmare.

I went to sleep. I thought that maybe I was not seeing right, that I was too tired. But when I woke up the next morning, the same scene was displayed on the cameras. Mr. Wolcrust was passed out on the floor. There was no sign of Pinky. I checked all the cameras. It was nowhere. Instead, on the bathroom wall, there was a big number four made out of blood. I realized it was four days after Mr. Wolcrust claimed to see the aka manto. Mr. Wolcrust opened his remaining eye. He got up, but he didn’t do his normal routine of taking a shower, or putting on new clothes. His shoes were not shiny anymore. The suit jacket was missing an arm. He didn’t button up a single button, on either his suit jacket or his undershirt. The tie was wrapped around his neck. The pocket square was put in the pocket. His hair was matted with blood. His remaining eye was filled with the look of a maniac. I looked at where his shirt was unbuttoned. I puked. His ribs were exposed, skin clawed away, as if some beast had been tearing chunks off of him. I bet he did that somewhere else. He looked at his watch. It wasn’t working, from what I saw, since the glass was clearly cracked. I heard him whisper to himself. It sounded like the growl of a beast.

“Tik, Tok. Your time is up. Tik, tok. Around the clock. Tik, tok. Are you afraid? Tik, tok. Time is sweet, as sweet as flesh. Tik, tok. As sweet as blood. Heads popping off like caps to cherry soda. Tik, tok. As sweet as the girl you dumped. Remember that, Mr. Wolcrust? Sweet, sweet Amy.” He chuckled. His empty eye seemed to resemble the aka manto’s eyes, as if it was looking through his eye socket. Or it had possessed him. It was Ivan again.

Ivan looked over at Kira’s body. He walked over to her. “I am a hungry, hungry hippo, darling! And you aren’t using that body anymore. I don’t think you will mind lending me some, will you?” Ivan lashed out with a hand and tore a chunk off. The chunk of flesh disappeared in an instant. Ivan tore a couple more chunks off and ate them as well. “Sub par, mademoiselle. But, it will make a turd. I will be saving that for later. If you don’t mind. I guess you don’t. I mean, you can’t really complain, darling. Afterall, I have your tongue.” He tore off a part of her shirt and used it as a napkin. Ivan tossed the shirt fragment on her body.

Ivan got up and walked out of the penthouse. I climbed out of the van and watched the door of the penthouse building. He walked out. People looked horrified. Ivan just gave them a wink. Can you do that with one eye? So, more accurately, he blinked and tipped his head to them, smiling widely. Ivan climbed into the back of his car. I was wondering what happened to the chauffeur. He usually opened the door for Mr. Wolcrust. The car drove off. I knew where he was going. Dr. Bor’s office.

I waited for him to arrive. I turned the camera on. I wanted to stop, but I just couldn’t. I was his follower. I had to watch Mr. Wolcrust. I heard people cry out of the office. Ivan had arrived. Dr. Bor opened the door to see what was happening. While Dr. Bor was out of my view, I heard him gasp. Moments later, I saw Mr. Wolcrust pushed through him and came in. He sat down on the couch, crossing his legs. Dr. Bor walked over to him.

“Hello, Dr. Boredman! How is it going? How is the doc feeling? How are your children?” Ivan asked Dr. Bor. That smile was pasted on his face like a malevolent Chesire cat.

“Mr. Wolcrust, what happened to you?” Dr. Bor asked, his face full of horror.

“I am fine. I am not crazy, Dr. Bor. I just came to tell you that I am fine. Fine dining. Fine as rain, right as a fiddle!”

“You are not fine. You need a doctor. I am going to call 911.” Dr. Bor reached for the phone, but in a flash, Ivan had a hand on the phone. He threw the phone against the wall, where it shattered, sending debris flying through the air. Ivan likes throwing things. Dr. Bor shrieked and ran behind his desk.

“No doctor is needed. Besides, I have you, Dr. Bor. I don’t need anyone else.” Ivan walked over to him. “What is wrong? I thought you could handle a bit of gore. Look me in the eye.”

Dr. Bor looked at Ivan. Ivan stared down at him, like a cat that contemplated whether to play or kill.

“See? Perfectly fine. Fine as rain.” Ivan reached in and pulled out some dollar bills that were covered in blood. He dropped them on the desk. “This should cover the day, don’t ya think? You were such a bore, but I have to give you some credit. Besides, I have to pay you for my meal.”

“What do you mean?” Dr. Bor asked nervously.

Ivan reached over the desk and grabbed Dr. Bor by the back of the shirt. He pulled him up, and bit off a chunk of his arm. He dropped Dr. Bor to the ground. Dr. Bor was screaming, holding the part of his arm where there used to be flesh. Ivan licked Dr. Bor’s blood off his lips.

“Fine tootin’ BBQ, Dr. Bor. You should be a chef instead of a psychologist. Man, man, man! Five stars!” Ivan clapped. He did his growling chuckle, wiping his chin with a torn up sleeve. “You can keep the change, by the way.”

Dr. Bor whimpered and tried crawling away from Ivan. Ivan watched him crawl for a bit. He lifted his foot and stomped on Dr. Bor’s leg. I heard the snap, and Dr. Bor cried even louder.

“Where do you think you’re going, Doc? I haven’t finished my meal!” He ripped a chunk of Dr. Bor’s leg off, and then another part of his arm, and then one of Dr. Bor’s ears. He tore off the parts so quickly that his hands were blurred. All parts were eaten in quick succession, disappearing behind the white satin teeth. Dr. Bor screamed, but I guess those stupid mother cluckers in the office were too dumb to obviousoulsly call 911. Or maybe they all ran.

Ivan looked at his broken watch. “Ah, it seems our time has run out. This was the best session. I will recommend your office to my colleagues.” He looked down at where Dr. Bor was laying. “It was nice talking to you. You gave me the gift of consolation in three. But, it has come to four. It is the end. Ta Ta.” Ivan said. Then, he turned on his heel, and he walked out. Some of the bandages must have come loose, because blood was dripping on the floor. Or maybe that was Dr. Bor’s blood.

He left the view of the camera, leaving Dr. Bor shocked. I waited for him to come home, like always. And he did. I saw the chauffeur walking down the street towards the car, twirling what looked to be keys. This raised a question. Who drove the car? Casper the Friendly Ghost?

The chauffeur looked up in surprise. I guess it must have been because he saw Mr. Wolcrust get out of the car. Ivan was too far for the chauffeur to catch up. He walked into the building, leaving the chauffeur far behind. I watched as Ivan walked into the penthouse.

Ivan went straight into the bathroom. He paused at Kira’s body, glancing briefly at the secretary. He grinned widely and continued walking. He closed the door behind him. I tried to check the camera in the bathroom. I got there. It showed me Mr. Wolcrust. I knew it was Mr. Wolcrust, because that toothy grin and that growling laugh were gone. It was just Mr. Wolcrust, standing there with chunks of flesh torn off him as if he had fought off a bear Mr. Wolcrust stood there, staring at his reflection. His reflection wasn’t his reflection. It showed Ivan. Ivan stared back, smiling. Hands reached out of the mirror. Mr. Wolcrust starred as Ivan’s hands reached for his neck. And then the screams began. The hands of Ivan curled around Mr. Wolcrust’s neck. Mr. Wolcrust’s hands clawed at Ivan’s hands, trying to pry them off. I heard laughing. A tinny, underwater laugh. I briefly saw something standing in the doorway to the bathroom. The camera turned purple and red. I couldn’t see anything else.

I checked all the cameras. Each and every one of them were showing red and purple. It was like looking through red and purple glass. I turned them off. I couldn’t do it anymore. I was too shocked. I was too terrified.

Later, someone came running out of the building, yelling. Police rolled up. People stood around confused. I walked over to the crowd. Whispers were bouncing around each person. A bunch of rich folk who lived there came walking out, being escorted by police officers. Shortly after, an officer came barreling out.

The officer was screaming, and he ran into the street. There were no traffic jams, so cars were moving faster. Before anyone could stop him, a car hit the officer and sent him flying into the air. He came crashing down, his neck twisted. People screamed. More police officers rushed into the building. I recognized the chauffeur. He came out. He was pale, and covered in blood.

“He had his head popped off like the cap to a bottle of cherry soda.” The chauffeur said. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he fell. I stood in the chaos, speechless. I felt something touch my shoulder, and spun around. Sakura stood there, confused.

“What is going on? I saw a cop get hit by a car, and saw the crowd.”

I looked at her. I couldn’t say anything. I felt like Ivan was choking me out. I tried to say something, but nothing came out. More officers came out of the building. They started to push people away. I walked back to my van, got in the driver’s seat, and drove home. That concluded Mr. Wolcrust’s follower session.

A week later, the news came out of Mr. Wolcrust’s fate. The reporters said that someone had killed Mr. Wolcrust. Charlie, the chauffeur, had released his own article about it. He said that the body had been strangled, but Mr. Wolcrust’s head had been pulled off. He said that the body was missing all of its blood. Charlie also said that there was blood all over the penthouse. He had found Kira in the living room, with most of her body eaten. He had reported that her right leg, left arm, parts of her brain, and both of her eyes were missing.. When people read it, they asked for the whole truth. The police had given in and told the public that Mr. Wolcrust’s body had shown signs of strangulation. They said that Kira’s and Mr. Wolcrust’s blood was found all over the penthouse. They did not comment on the possible cannibalization. They said that they couldn’t find any signs of the killer, except the number four in the bathroom, which they suspect is the killer’s kill sign. One officer even leaked out information on how they found Mr. Wolcrust’s own fingerprints on his headless neck. Like he had strangled himself. Here is the weirder thing; Mr. Wolcrust was seen walking out of the building after the reported death, according to some witnesses. Some people started spreading rumors of how he killed Kira and paid the police to keep quiet, even the police had shown the body to several news stations to debunk the theory. People started to call Mr. Wolcrust’s old penthouse, the “Crimson Pent”.

I gave up on following. It was a good gig, but Dr. Bor quit his job (I mean, a client just went Jeffery effing Dahmer on him. He was lucky he survived. The police found him on the brink of death.), and I just lost all motivation to do it. Watching Mr. Wolcrust was, creepily, the best following ever. I still have my equipment, but I stored it in boxes. I hid the hard drives in a loose floorboard in my apartment. I stripped the Watcher of all its surveillance equipment. Now, I just call it the Watcher, because of my adventures with it. Now, I just drive the Watcher around to places. You want to know what happened to my cameras I had set up in Mr. Wolcrust’s house? They disappeared. The police never reported them, even though I spent about three months in fear of discovery. I went back to the penthouse through a tour. Can you believe that? They set a tour three months later. I looked at where I had set up my cameras. They were small, but if someone looked closely, they could see them. They were still there, just encased in purple crystals. I guess the people thought they were decorations. But I knew that was the work of Pinky. It was the only logical explanation. So, that is one thing off my mind. Occasionally, I feel the need to go follow someone, wanting to get my follower’s fix. I end up avoiding them. Nothing will top Mr. Wolcrust. That was fine tootin’ BBQ.

Remember Sakura? We got married a year later. I met her for a drink, and we both had a lot in common. Well, except our pasts, where I was a follower and she was into playing the guitar. I left that part out. You know, for personal reasons. We dated for about eleven months, decided that we should get married since we both loved each other very much. I had some trouble with her family, since they were Japanese and I was a full blown Boston boy. World War II was in the past, and I was born quite a few years after Vietnam, hallelujah. I made the horrible decision of telling a joke about World War II kamikaze pilots. I told them that a kamikaze pilot tells his students to watch closely since he will only be doing it once. Her grandpa and dad served in World War II for the Japanese, so that didn’t settle well for a while. But we eventually became friends, so now we are a happy family! I think. Maybe they secretly hate me. Anyways, we decided to become journalists, and explore the world. What do we write about? We explore the paranormal! Ironic, huh? We explored the topic of aka manto for a while, but we didn’t find anything. I told her, in a roundabout way, my encounter with Pinky. She drew a picture that matched it perfectly. We have a few cases under our belts, such as one case about sasquatch. That turned out to be a guy in an ape suit on meth. Fun stuff. I think Pinky was a Korean demon called a dokkaebi. Or it could have been from a story about these demons called Lovelace Demons. I am still figuring it out. We plan on going to the Koreas soon to try and find out. Yay, North Korea. It sounds nice and dandy. Our next appointment is to go and interview some sort of studio about a demonic cartoon. I can’t remember what exactly it was. I think it was Cartoon Dog? Cartoon Cat? I forget. Anyways, Sakura and I have been married for about three years, in case you were wondering. Still going strong.

It has been four years since the death of Mr. Wolcrust. Occasionally, I wake up from nightmares. Some of them were from when I was in college and got slammed into a wall until my skull cracked. Others were from when I served two years in the military and almost died by getting run over by a tank. But most of my nightmares are from Mr. Wolcrust, Ivan, and the aka manto. I keep dreaming that the aka manto gives me the choice of red or blue. I always answer something different. I say purple and I get pulled into hell. I answer yello and my head is shoved into a toilet. I answer green and it slashes my head off with the katana. Pops my head off like the cap to a cherry soda, as Charlie would say. Ivan keeps tearing me apart and eating me. Mr. Wolcrust just stares at me and asks why I never helped. Why I just watched. Whenever I wake up, Sakura always tells me it is alright. And I believe her. We have seen some of the same terrors. But I can’t get that tinny laugh out of my head, nor that growling laugh, and I can’t unsee Ivan reaching out and grabbing Mr. Wolcrust by the throat.

So, I continue my adventures with my wife. The Watcher goes where I go, and we, the Watcher and I, share a common past. We have seen things together that we can’t unsee. Sakura and I will see things that we won’t be able to unsee either. Demons, ghosts, and much more await us. Maybe, just maybe, I will meet Pinky again.