The Masquerader

Mr. Goba was a messenger. He had a black beard, blue eyes, and a very small pile of brown hair in the very center of his head, surrounded by a lake of skin. He had been hired to deliver a package to the resident of house number 666. He walked down the dark eerie street that had a single streetlight, far away, shivering, while the sinister winds tried to drive its roots out of the earth. The glowing rock in the sky, let a single stream of pale silver light, trickle through the dark clouds, just enough to see where he was going. He walked toward an old broken down house with moldy planks that might, have used to be white, and a door that was hidden behind coils of black, leathery, vine. The package, that of which was stuffed in an old, leather pouch thumped against his thigh as he scampered toward the house. He pushed aside the vines, and a door was exposed. It was a door, the colour of the desert, with a crimson knocker. It would have looked like an ordinary door if it did not have dried blood splattered all over it, although today was Halloween and it might just be, the perfect finishing touch. He knocked on the door three times and stepped back, it creaked open... there was a scream followed by a thud as a body hit the floor...

A little while later an elderly old man came down from the clouds. He had long silky hair, white robes, a staff that had a twisted cage-like top with blue light swirling around inside, like a supernova, and a beard that could grow no whiter. An angel from heaven perhaps. He snapped his fingers and now he was wearing a shiny silver tuxedo and his cloud had transformed into a dance floor with bright lights flashing. On top of that, he had speakers blasting Michael Jackson's Just Beat It song, which was sure to be able to be heard ten miles away. He waved his staff, sunglasses appeared on his nose although it was night, also he had a pink cowboy hat with roses on it perched on his head. He kept nodding, waving his limbs, and making sharp noises like a cat who had been electrocuted. The dance floor continued to float toward the ground until it was hovering above the surface by two inches, which is when he stepped off. Although his destination was only five meters away he took a minute to get there because he was just the slightest little bit drunk. Ok, maybe very drunk, he had a sway in his step and a sleepy expression on his face, but when he saw the body lying beside the broken-down house, all that changed.

"Bless the old pig from heaven!" he bellowed in his Texas accent, "Bless his ugly snout that ain't gonna stop spying at us every day!" he continued as he spat a mouthful of flem on an unconscious Mr. Goba's forehead. "Get up you lazy booger, stop fakin!" he yelled.

Mr. Goba suddenly leaped to his feet like he had been shocked.

"Who are you?" he asked as he wiped away the flem with a handkerchief. 

The sun was beginning to rise but it was very cloudy so it made little difference. 

"I'm your old fairy godfather... Ronald... McDonald," he said, enjoying the sound of his name. "I've come down from the heavens to help you capture that hooded guy who stole your memory." 

"He stole my memory?" 

"Yea, try to remember somethin', like your name." Ronald said.

"My name is...its... now that you've mentioned it I can't remember anything," he said looking puzzled.

"Don't ya worry I'll fix ya up. Just follow old gramps and y'all soon getcha memory back." Ronald waved his staff and two bright pink motorcycles appeared on the street.

"I'm not going to ride one of those death vehicles," said Mr. Goba.

"C'mon it'll be fine, you'll have me," assured Ronald.

"No offence, but having you with me won't do me any good, because you're drunk." 

The old man looked like he thought that was a compliment. After a while of smiling, he dragged Mr. Goba onto the motorcycle. 

"Look, you can follow me, or you can stay here and rot. I'm fine with both by the way," Ronald McDonald stated as he strapped on his helmet. 

He started the engine, got into gear and drove off leaving only smoke and the smell of petrol behind. Mr. Goba watched the motorcycle until it was only a speck of pink, then he cursed and he too blasted off behind the man. They drove for hours until they got to their destination somewhere deep in the black forest. 

“This is an area in the forest called The World's Grave.” Informed Ronald, “We are in zone 3-A” he produced a map. “Now there should be a trap door somewhere here…” there was a chink as he disturbed a pile of leaves. 

They were blown away by the wind around them, revealing a rusty chain in its place. He yanked on the chain and a trap door swung out of the earth.

“Where are we going?” Mr. Goba asked. 

“To get ya a teleportation scale from a dragon and using it to get to the memory stealer, now get in.”

Mr. Goba got into the trap door and immediately regretted it because of the smell.

“Why does it smell so bad?” he asked.

“Because it's almost as old as nature, this was the first city ever to be created." replied Ronald

There was a big sign and it said WELCOME TO ELCRON.

“Elcron was one of the four cities that sank, the one you might know about is Atlantis. There's Atlantis, Elcron, Faunskin, and The Ocean Of Storms.” Explained Ronald, “People ain't realize that sinking doesn't have to be in the sea. The Ocean Of Storms sunk in the desert.”

“I see, so Elcron sunk in this forest,” said Mr. Goba.

“Now you're thinking.”

They walked down a shadowy hallway that had greenery hanging from the ceiling. All was silent except for the steady clomp clomp of two sets of boots. They reached a house that had half of it crushed under rock.

“Wait here," said Ronald as he walked into the house.

A few minutes later he walked back out with a dagger strapped to his belt. It was the colour of a wet street at midnight, with a silver edge and specks of sapphire glinting along the blade. “It seemed to wink maliciously as Ronald walked back. 

“Let's go” said Ronald, his silver tuxedo was now a dusty grey colour. 

They walked until they reached the other end of the tunnel and that's when Ronald said, “the dragon is near, I can hear it.” 

Suddenly  the ground below them erupted, scattering bits of rock. A black dragon with blue eyes, and green ears flew out from a giant hole in the ground.

“Who dare approach me?  The queen of Pokemon!”

“Pokemon are real? Oh probably since dragons are-” Mr. Goba started.

“I meant Pokemon cards," said the dragon.

“You never changed one bit Bertha,” said Ronald shyly.

The great dragon looked down, noticing Ronald for the first time then fire came out of her nostrils, and her tongue flicked in and out. 

“YOU, I swore that if I saw you again I would -”

“I have come to challenge you in a game of Pokemon!” screamed Ronald desperately.

The dragon's face changed as soon as he said the name Pokemon.

“Ok, did you bring your own cards? If not you can borrow some of mine!” She said very fast and enthusiastically.

“I’ll borrow some of yours," mumbled Ronald. 

As she shuffled the deck she said, “if you win I give you one of my scales but if I win… I want one of those happy meals that you make, with real beef.” 

“Sounds good to me!” said Ronald before she changed her mind.

It took an hour until Ronald finally hit Bertha's Pikachu with Arceus and ended the game.

“I won, now gimme my scale," he wailed like a baby who just lost his favourite toy.

Bertha scowled then lifted her tail and plucked a single scale. She handed it over to Ronald who slipped it into the chest pocket of the tuxedo.

He turned to Mr. Goba “Lets-”, he paused mid-sentence.

The reason he paused was because Mr. Goba had used a dagger, a twin to the one strapped to his belt, to carve off his face revealing that the face was just a mask. He used his fingers to rip off the remaining flesh leaving strings of slime dangling from his horns… it was Lucifer himself. With a snap of his fingers a pitch fork appeared in his hand, he walked toward Ronald calmly until he was within striking distance. That is why, the scariest wolves are not the ones that growl or bare their teeth. They are the ones who walk up to you menacingly with their head down and hind legs tense, ready to spring.

“H-h-how? You couldn't remember anything so I thought you werent, well you.” Stuttered Ronald.

“You should be extra careful next time, but unfortunately for you there won’t be a next time.” Said Lucifer in a leathery voice.

“Why do you need the teleportation scale?”

“Oh, the old problem.”

“You need to go to heaven?” asked Ronald

Lucifer started to admire his fingernails which were very long and claw-like. He nodded then smiled. The pitch fork was thrusted through the air and landed on the place of Ronald's shirt where his heart would be, while Ronald prepared to experience death… again... death did not come. Lucifer looked confused, but that provided the perfect moment for the great dragon to breathe a wave of fire on him… it did not kill him, for he was born from fire, but it did indeed hurt very much.

“TRAITOR! YOUR SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE FOR DRAGONS ARE CREATURES OF DESTRUCTION!”

“Not this one, I only want to play pokemon,” replied Bertha smoothly.

In a flash of red Lucifer disappeared leaving bits of ash behind in a pile.

“Where has he gone?” asked Ronald.

“He’ll be back… I suppose it won’t be too much to ask that you make me a Happy Meal for saving your life?”

“It's the least I could do,” replied Ronald.

He started to work on the fire, then insisted that he needed some paper. Bertha had looked at her pokemon cards which were made of very fine paper then said no. She told him that she could start the fire but Ronald said that he needed a perfect flame. They concluded that leaves would do just as well as paper so Bertha raked a pile of leaves with her tail, while Ronald used his magic to summon his ingredients. After half an hour a scent of burgers and fries filled the air as the two beings munched on their food. This Happy Meal was not the type you could get from McDonald’s, but the type you would get if you were friends with Ronald McDonald himself.

“So what are you going to do now, return to heaven?” asked Bertha, breaking the silence.

“No, I’m going to start another chain of fast food restaurants,” answered Ronald.

“Really what's the name?” questioned Bertha hoping that he would name it after her.

“I like Tim, Tim Hortons will be the name, otherwise known as… Timmies.”

“That's a great name!” said Bertha with an enthusiasm she did not feel.