“You used to be the Higher Power,” I reminded It. “You got eaten. If you don’t want Shitty Ritchie to name you, and I would recommend that you avoid that fate, tell me your name.”
“Eaten?” It shouted in disbelief. “I was EATEN?”
I’d been correct. It had no clue what had happened. “Yep. Eaten.”
“Eaten by what?” It demanded, still in denial.
“Me!” Shitty Ritchie announced with a giggle. “I ate you! And I would do it again, Goober.”
It screamed. The sound was blood curdling. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. The interior of Shitty Ritchie’s mind trembled. I spared a glance at my little cannibalistic buddy. He was fine—grinning like the idiot he was. Its fury might be chilling, but it couldn’t physically harm us.
It began to pace the floorless room in a state of furious agitation—muttering and cursing. It was fascinating to watch. I might represent compassion as the Angel of Mercy, but I felt no pity for the abomination coming to terms with what had happened.
“You lie,” It finally snapped.
“Do I?” I countered.
We stood in silence and stared at each other. With each passing moment, I felt less afraid. It, on the other hand, looked far less sure of Itself.
“Name?” I asked again.
“Higher,” It ground out.
“Nope.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes.
“Power,” It tried again.
“For real?” I asked. “I’m leaning towards Goober right now.”
“HP,” It hissed.
“Goober it is,” I said, totally over it. It had Its chance and screwed it up. “You snooze, you lose, Goober.”
“Fine,” It shouted. “I shall be henceforth known as Phoenix.”
“Interesting. Is that so you can rise from the ashes and kick ass?” I inquired with sarcasm dripping off of each word.
Its eyes became slits of ire. That used to terrify me. Not anymore.
“I take it Phoenix is a no-go?” It inquired in an icy tone.
“I’ll give you one more shot before it’s Goober,” I said.
The conversation was absurd, but I wasn’t wasting time. I’d stated that I’d only be gone for five minutes. It didn’t matter if we spent what felt like hours in Shitty Ritchie’s mind. In real time, I’d be back in five minutes.
“I shall be Zeus,” It announced.
“You shall be Goober,” I snapped, done.
“Fine,” It ground out through clenched teeth. “When I get out of here, I will make you regret it.”
Bingo. Goober was running on the assumption that It was still alive even though It got eaten. I didn’t think so due to the transparent parts of Its body, but I wasn’t going to share that nugget just yet.
“About that,” I said, walking over to the couch and sitting down. “There’s only one way out and Shitty Ritchie doesn’t defecate all that often.”
“I’m sorry, WHAT?” Goober roared.
“You heard me,” I said with a saccharine sweet smile. “Of course, if you’re helpful, there’s a chance my tiny buddy might take a laxative, but that’s all up to you, Goob.”
