Polly Pandemonium

“Pigs.” Emilia shouted, her voice bouncing off the walls of the convention centre.

“Pigs?” Tyler asked.

The laptop balanced on his forearm wobbled as he one handedly typed an apology to yet another vendor his boss Emilia had insulted. His cheeks burned as he strode behind her, various spreadsheets and email confirmations all blurring into a stress inducing stew of responsibilities. A stew he simply couldn’t stomach.

“Yeah, little squealy bastards running around the whole place. Kids will love it, petting them, end of the night we could race ‘em. What do ya think?” Emilia asked him at mach speed.

“I just think for a comic book convention it may not match the feel. Besides doors open in ten minutes.” Tyler said. The laptop slipped from his arm; he grabbed and hugged it to his chest. Another vendor came walking up, huge and sweating, his arms up in a fury.

“Where do you want me?” He cried, looking to be on the verge of tears. “I’m sat on thousands of pounds worth of comic books with nowhere to go.”

“Second row, B7.” Emilia waived a hand at him. He ran both hands through his straggly hair.

“Row what? Where’s seven? You need to label these things or give us a map or something!” He shouted at her.

More unpacking vendors looked up from there displays. Most having been there since six that morning. After been told to set up in at least three different places they eventually had enough, placing their stalls wherever they pleased.

“Hey man, just set up there for us if you don’t mind.” Tyler told him, pointing to an empty corner. The vendor stared like he had just been slapped. Tyler didn’t stick around for an argument, stepping quickly to catch up with Emilia who was making her way backstage.

The backstage doors flung open with shuddering force. The security guard jumped out of his skin as Emilia strode past him followed closely by Tyler.

“Has Lisa Cartwright arrived yet?!” He asked, his phone erupting in a flurry of pings. Emilia turned on the spot, he drew up his laptop before screeching to a halt. She stared at him, venom in her eyes.

“It’s Polly Pandemonium! She’s not Lisa Cartwright! I’ve told you the woman does not break character until the final edit, capiche!”

Tyler put up a defensive hand and nodded. He had been in the job for less than two weeks and the only thing he had learned about event management was do what the boss says, but don’t expect her to tell you what to do. In a split-second Emilia was back to her smiling bundle of energy.

“Goodie gumdrops, I’m letting the crowds in. Keep Polly Pandemonium happy. Now get in that green room you tease.”

Emilia gave him a hard slap in his buttocks. Red faced and wincing in pain he caught a glance at the lone security guard who laughed. Tyler squinted at him, realising he couldn’t have been older than fifteen. He had no time to think about that now, Lisa, he shook his head, Polly would be waiting for him.

He heard a loud jabbering rush sweep through the halls. floods of devoted fans clambered over one another before bursting onto the main floor of the arena to a scattered host of half prepared merch sellers.

The whole convention was currently circling the toilet bowl and Tyler found himself in the centre of it all. He had no experience in managing conventions. He wasn’t sure if the architect of this nightmare, the red bull fuelled Emilia had any either.

One small success that could bring the entire convention back from the brink was their main guest Lisa Cartwright aka Polly Pandemonium. One of the most iconic figures in all comic book history. An insane, sex crazed super villain who had faced off against every square jawed, muscle bound crimefighter ever to squeeze into a spandex. She was now being brought to the silver screen by Lisa Cartwright who from casting to the premiere never broke character. Turning left down the far corridor, he straightened out his shoulders and knocked on the greenroom door.

“Miss Pandemonium, doors have opened. Half hour call.”

“Help!” came a muffled cry from inside.

Tyler’s heart jumped to his throat. He tried the door. Locked. He didn’t have the keys, there was no way he could find Emilia in all this mayhem, and the adolescent security guard couldn’t kick down a Jenga tower. He placed his laptop down and reared back his shoulder, slamming into the door. To his surprise the lock looked to give slightly.

“I’ll be right in miss!” He shouted through the door. More than eleven barges later and the lock gave, Tyler came charging into the coffee table. He steadied himself and looked around the room. No sign of anybody.

“Hell–

A flying object stuck him square in the chest, forcing every bit of air out of him. He sank down to his knees, trying to catch his breath. Cartwheeling across the room his very glittery assailant stopped dead in front of him. A colourful, oversized gun pointed at his head.

“Please!” He croaked. His ribcage felt like it was getting tighter by the second.

“Nobody orders Polly Pandemonium on stage!” Screamed the young girl in a sparkling costume, bright pink and green make up streaked over her face like war paint.

“I’m sorry it’s just…” Tyler implored.

“It’s just a one-way ticket back to prison! I’m never going back there, man.”

She cocked the gun still pointed at him. Tyler felt his brain begin to fog over, the smell of what could have been burning bubble gum took hold of his nostrils. He reached down to his pocket for his phone.

Polly was too quick for him. With one swift flash of neon leggings, she kicked his phone out of his hand.

“I think I’m having a stroke or something.” He wheezed.

“Please, you henchmen always bounce back.” Polly said, throwing the gun into a chair.

“Henchmen?” Tyler asked.

“You’re far too pathetic to be a hero but a girl’s got to be careful, you know.” She gave him a sly wink.

Ok this is all fine, Tyler told himself standing up and placing a steadying hand against the wall. She’s just a method actor, an extreme one but the con must go on. A mantra he had told himself since getting the job. Polly turned around, in her arms was a large red box covered in wires.

Tyler sank back down the wall to the echoes of a beeping timer and the hysterical laughs of a woman who thought she was a comic book character.

For the next ten minutes all he remembered was being led out of Polly Pandemonium’s green room and upstairs, leaving behind a big red box that might be a bomb. He had tried to reason with her that much he could tell the police. He suspected it was nothing more than clock wires and blinking lights, but he knew how people acted in crowds, one person breaks out in a panic and before you know it Simba’s dad is dead.

They were at the control room door when it dawned on him, the speaker system. Polly kicked open the door, skipping straight for the big red button.

“Wait!” Tyler pleaded, “What if it causes a panic?”

“Or a pandemonium?” She suggested.

Poor choice of words he thought as she dragged him across the room. Picking up the microphone she banged on it a few times, the knocking reverberating throughout the convention.

“Listen up motherfuckers we have taken over the building!” Polly shouted down the mic.

The crowd erupted into cheers and whooping, recognising the candy coated nasally voice of their favourite character. Polly stared at him, her exaggerated smile now thin-lipped contempt.

“Those nerds aren’t terrified?” She said.

Tyler stared at her open mouthed. Where does the character end? He thought. He looked down at the crowds through the control room window. A thousand faces stared up in silent anticipation of more Polly.

From the corner of the convention stage a man pushed out a cart, sitting on top was Polly’s so-called bomb. Tyler’s ribs tightened as the man wheeled it centre stage and then took off running.

“The plutonium pandemonium bomb,” A head in the crowd screamed, pointing at the device.

“

Phase two, phase two!” The super fans started to chant. Others shouted and threw glitter in the air. Then the crowd erupted into a screaming riot. People started shoving and fighting, the opportunists grabbed handfuls of merchandise whilst vendors thew punches and demanded payment. All the while Polly spun round on a chair, soaking in all the chaos.

In amongst the flying hands and stuffed toys Tyler locked eyes with his manager Emilia. Even from up here he could see her headset and clipboard shaking in rage.

“What have you done!?” He couldn’t hear the words, but they were clear enough. Polly waltzed up, put her arm around him and gave him a peck on the check before waiving down at the red-faced organiser. Tyler felt his cheeks burn as he mouthed the words

“It’s fine!”

His first ever event couldn’t end in a riot, he had sent out too many applications for this all to crash and burn and people could get hurt. He grabbed hold of the microphone and cleared his throat.

“Erm Hello, this bomb threat is for entertainment purposes only, please calmly enjoy the convention.”

Surprisingly that didn’t seem to quiet the carnage much, people held up their phones whilst their fellow con goers tore down posters and cardboard cut-outs. Some cosplayers started firing toy guns and swinging foam swords around. Terror induced daydreams of negotiating with a police bomb squad over a megaphone filled Tyler’s mind. Polly shoved a lollipop in his mouth and ruffled his hair.

“OK you mad bomber let’s get down there and give ‘em hell.” She said rushing for the door. Tyler was content to simply stare down at the riot, but Polly grabbed his hand and yanked him along with her. Feeling like a toy being pulled apart by children he offered no resistance. She burst onto the floor firing a few rounds off from the same gun she used on Tyler.

“Oh, good you remembered the gun.” Tyler said, seeing her targets double over and fall to the ground heaving.

“Outta the way fuckers!” Polly yelled squeezing off another round. The projectile caught a cosplayer in a foam muscle super suit causing him to crumple to the floor. He cried in pain, somewhat taking away from the stoic toughness of his chosen character.

“Ok he’ll probably be suing us then.”

Tyler offered him a small wave as he was dragged toward Polly’s bomb. Seeing what she’d done to the cosplayer the few people inspecting the bomb backed off. She let his hand go and leapt up on top of the bomb with such grace Tyler decided she had been perfectly cast for the role.

Her sudden debut and the trail of very sore nerds she left behind her captured the rooms attention. They slowly stopped shoving and pointed in her direction, whispering to each other and nodding. As the focus shifted from rioting to hot new celebrity grew, the room started to calm. Fists went down and phone cameras came up all the while Polly grinned and posed whilst Tyler stared at the sea of people like a cow chewing cud. He saw a small kid dressed as spiderman be shoved out of the way by his manager Emilia.

“You had one job!” She screamed at him, jabbing her finger. “Look after Lisa Cartwrig–

The projectile bounced off Emilia’s jaw with such force it sailed clear over the stage, in an instant she sank to the floor. Tyler looked up to see Polly still aiming her gun in an outstretched arm.

“It’s Polly Pandemonium dumbass! And he’s my henchman not yours!” At Polly’s words the crowd let out a huge cheer. She front flipped off the bomb, landing next to Tyler and thrusting his arm in the air.

“Is she going to be, ok?” He meekly asked as the crowd roared in approval.

The lollipop fell out of Tyler’s mouth whilst he let the chaos happen to him, he watched his employer roll around on the sticky floor, clutching her face. Polly was doing everything in her power to egg on the crowd. Pointing her gun at bystanders and yelling iconic lines from her characters comic book.

“Ok let them have it knuckles!” She squeaked in his ear.

He stared back blankly, thinking he may have hit his limit for processing information when she wrapped a fist on the bomb. The timer had less than a minute till detonation.

Tyler walked to the microphone stand as if drunk. The crowd began to shush one another whilst directing their cameras from Polly to him. He looked back at her. She cocked her gun and gave him a manic smile.

“Hello con-goers we have armed the plutonium pandemonium err thing. So its on now. Any attempt to resist will result in torture and death.” He announced robotically.

Amongst the crowd he spotted small children, clinging to their parents, a look of terror on their faces.

“I mean it’s fine, just it will detonate.”

As he was trying to remember one of Polly’s lines to end this nightmare the timer on the plutonium pandemonium bomb hit zero. With a deafening pop the bomb erupted, showering the guest’s, Polly and himself in glitter. Polly giggled and cartwheeled around the stage to the glee of the audience. Tyler looked on, strangely the anxiety that he had carried ever since he opened that greenroom door was now gone, like it had been smothered by a rather nice numb feeling. He walked through the glitter storm toward his groaning boss. Kneeling beside her he could see her jaw had already started to swell. It looked like she had a big gobstopper in her mouth.

“Hey Emilia, I don’t really think event organisation is for me, I quit.”

Emilia let out a slurry of vowels that might have contained a few swear words. Behind him Polly was enthralling the audience like a fluorescent snake charmer.

“Pandemaniacs!” She cried, “Go forth and rob people in the name of chaos!”

Tyler pushed open the fire door to a blast of cool air. Leaving the convention behind and wiping glitter from his tongue.

“Maybe something in accounting?” He muttered to himself.