List: Em's Mostly Random Word Generator List #1
Number: 29. Crunch
Story of Origin: Imperium
Character(s): Daub, Jeremy, Third, Emperial
Warnings: Some spoilers for Daub's story.
Use: This is an alternate version of an RP posted to Gaia. What if Daub had gotten what he wanted for Christmas? What if the lab rats had not arrived and Jeremy had punched him? It all unfolds much the same, but from Daub's perspective. As an alternate, this never really happened.

Scenario: It's December 24th, 2006. Nearly everyone in the Neighborhood has gathered for the annual holiday event, a huge party taking place in a large mansion. Anthony Arthur Andrews, called Daub, sits down between Jeremy Blake and Third Hhalak Atreipie. Neither of them knows Daub, but Daub knows who they are. He proceeds to antagonize Jeremy with the intent of getting Jeremy to punch him.
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The fist hit Daub's jaw with a sickening crunch and for a moment he could see spots in his vision. The room seemed to spin and then he was staring at the ceiling, not realizing he had fallen. One of his arms struck a wood table on the way down and he could only think, Oh! That's nice-- even though it really wasn't.

He was not immediately conscious of anything but his awkward position. His left arm was pulled back, almost out of its socket, and his legs had gotten tangled to the point where he was not sure which was which.

He had landed partly on his side, partly on his back, an uncomfortable twist that he might not have minded if he were ten years younger, and a contortionist. He could see the fibers of the carpet stretching off for what seemed like miles, followed by a forest of giant feet.

Above him he could hear voices, but they sounded distant, faraway. More concerning was the strange feeling that something was missing, some noise that should have been there was gone. The murmur of voices rose and fell like the tides. He was adrift in some vast sea on an ocean of grey fibers that spoke with rhubarb tongues.

Finally he realized the noise that was missing. With one great gasp he sucked in as much air as could fill his lungs. He must have stopped breathing for at least half a minute, or maybe hours. He had no concept of time.

There were hands pulling him, and Daub wanted to just lie there and do nothing and be dead a while longer. But the hands were much stronger than he. They pulled him up until he was sitting and he finally remembered where he was and what he had been doing.

Bloody. He hadn't meant for the punch to be that hard. Daub wobbled, woozy. "Yes, yes, quite all right," he answered to a question he was not truly hearing. He was at the party, the big party. He had come here to... He could not remember. He had wanted somebody to punch him. Somehow he had gotten lost and then he saw Jeremy.

Already Daub felt badly about it. Jeremy had just been sitting there, enjoying his martini, and Daub had used him in the worst way possible. He had taken the most intimate details from Jeremy's file and used them against the other man. In six seconds he had stabbed at Jeremy where Jeremy was weakest and manipulated Jeremy into doing exactly what he wanted Jeremy to do.

But he hadn't thought the punch would be that hard. Jeremy was a geek, a scientist, not someone you would expect to throw a punch with the strength of a burly Armenian dock worker.

And then her face was before him, like an angel's, and he could feel his heart breaking and all the fear rushing straight back in. Emily.

Only it was not Emily, it was someone completely different. She had all the physical features of his mother, but she was just a copy. He looked down at his legs, away from her, and asked, "Oh, am I not dead?"

He was not sure what he meant by the question. Was that what he wanted? To be dead with Spork and Lucy? Or was it merely surprise that he was still among the land of the living?

When he looked up again there were two Sporks -- two Emilys. The first was asking the boy standing next to Daub what happened. "Please," said Daub, "let's not relive the whole experience."

Then the two Ems were helping him up, which meant they were both real, not the result of double vision. Daub closed his eyes, saying, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can take two of you right now," just as easily and carelessly as he might have spoken in a dream. He half expected to see four of her when he opened his eyes again, thereby proving it was a dream, but when he did, the second one was gone and he had only one exact copy of his dead mother to worry about. One exact copy of his shame. It was like being punched anew.