As The Keymaster opened his eyes, he saw a black-and-white checkered pattern before him. He realized that he was laying face-down on a tiled floor, and so he groggily rose to his feet. Everything was dim, and as he struggled to see his surroundings, he heard the childlike giggling of a girl echoing all around him. Suddenly, a spotlight turned on to illuminate a jester marionette standing atop a stage.
“WASSUP FUCKHEAD, READY TO GET WASTED ON SOME EGGNOG?!”
The Keymaster jolted as he looked towards the puppet, realizing who she was. “Game Master? You’re the second emissary?”
“Eyyyyy kay mester! Its-a-me, the ghost of Christmas future-” the Game Master began, before trailing off as she looked somewhere offstage. She then turned back to The Keymaster.
“O-oh, sorry, I’m the ghost of Christmas present, I think. Whatever, want some eggs? I got plenty!” She produced several eggs from her sleeves, most of which unceremoniously fell to the ground with a splat.
The Keymaster raised an eyebrow. “Whatever do you need eggs for?”
“Why, for the eggnog, ya silly fuckin goose!” The rest of the eggs plummeted to the floor as the Game master then pulled out a mug of “spiked eggnog”, which appeared to be nothing more than half-beaten egg yolk with dirty nails and screws floating about.
“No, thank you,” The Keymaster declined, raising his hands.
“Bah, suit yourself. Y’know what, just for you, I got somethin SPECIAL on the menu that I don’t make for anybody. Any. Fuckign. Body.” The Game Master flipped over the “spiked nog” to reveal it to be a cup of steaming hot bovril. “It’s a cow juice beef thingy! No spikes!!”
The Keymaster studied it closely. Although he was somewhat apprehensive… he did like bovril. “Alright,” he relented, taking the cup and sipping from it. Scrumptious.
The Game Master grinned widely. “Now let’s get down to business! You know the drill, right?”
The Keymaster shrugged slightly. “I believe I do? You are to show me something about myself?”
“Correctomundo!” replied the Game Master, snapping her fingers on both hands and making finger guns towards The Keymaster. “But I’m gonna spice it up for ya. We’re gonna play a game together!”
The Keymaster sighed. “Wonderful.”
The Game Master grabbed the Keymaster’s hand and pulled him towards a Christmas tree in the corner of the room. “Okay okay, so here we see the uh… spiky tree where the garbage trading thingamajig happens. Speaking of the fecking trees, why do they be so damn spiky? Aren’t trees, like, round, ya know? That’s how they look in the drawings, right?”
The Keymaster blankly stared at the Game Master.
“Anyways…!” The Game Master continued as she clapped her hands and started rubbing them together. “Let’s begin our game!” She grabbed a red ball ornament from the tree and chomped into it, crunching on the glass-metal as casually as a human would eat an apple. She then motioned with her hand for The Keymaster to come towards her. “C’mon, Keymaster, pull my finger!” she said with a wink.
The Keymaster narrowed his eyes. “What ruse are you playing here?” he questioned.
The Game Master gave an exaggerated gasp. “What?! I’m not doing anything! Just pull my finger.”
The Keymaster sighed again, pulling the Game Master’s finger, When the wooden joint clicked, his cup of bovril sprayed onto his face and temporarily blinded him. While he wiped it away, The Game Master reached underneath the tree and pulled out a large ball of wrapping paper, throwing it at The Keymaster. “Wooooooooh, look at this thing I just materialized!” she said while waving her fingers. “Now it’s time to play pass the parcel!”
“How does the game work?”
“You unwrap each layer of the ball until you get to the center! Like an an onion. There’s a surprise under each layer.”
“Only I am to do it? I thought it was called pass the parcel.”
The Game Master scoffed, shrugging. “Whatever, just play the fuckin game,” she grunted, pointing to the parcel.
The Keymaster looked down at the ball, noting the peculiarity of the first layer’s design. It was mono-yellow, patterned similarly to wallpaper. The Keymaster recognized it, but he could not quite identify where and when he had seen it. He unwrapped it, but found nothing beneath the layer, instead only the next layer. “Is is the paper itself that has significance to me?” he asked.
The Game Master laughed. “Well, it’s because there are arrows on it, like the logo for Back to the Future!”
“But we are not travelling anywhere.”
“Yeah but- whatever, just unwrap the next layer!” she pouted while crossing her arms. The Keymaster shot a suspicious glance, before proceeding to unwrap the next layer. The wrapping paper was red, patterned with cockroaches. Beneath it was a cockroach that hissed at The Keymaster, before swiftly being squashed by him. “And how is that significant to me?”
“Because there were cockroaches in Level 4, which you just visited!”
The Keymaster scoffed. “I have had enough of these games.”
“But I’m the Game Master! That’s, like, my whole thing!”
The Keymaster shook his head in disapproval, before unwrapping the next layer. It was patterned with cartoon bombs. His confusion subsided into shock when the wrapping paper fell away to reveal an actual bomb, burning down to the end of its fuse. It exploded in The Keymaster’s hands, laying him out on the ground. He groaned, rising back up with a cloud of smoke around him. “And…what was that meant to be?” He grunted, his eye twitching with anger.
“Why, your explosive temper, of course!” exclaimed The Game Master, rocking on the floor with laughter. “C’mon, there’s one last layer!”
The Keymaster looked down to see that the final layer of the parcel, miraculously still intact, was patterned with keys. He tore away the wrapping paper to reveal a key. “I see, it must be because I am The Keymaster, right?” He asked.
The Game Master shook her head. “Nope! It’s because one of the wanderers that you helped had his house key in his wallet!”
“How do you- never mind,” The Keymaster said, shaking his head. “Are we done here now?”
The Game Master nodded. “Yep! Oh yeah, by the way, the ghost of Christmas future is gonna kill you! Okay, I’m going to bed now, bye!” The Game Master then promptly proceeded to faceplant on the floor.
The Keymaster did a double take. “He’s going to—!?” he began, before promptly collapsing into unconsciousness.
“Eheheheh, I dropped Ambien in his bovril….” The Game Master snickered, before she too fell asleep.