A Trapdoor In The Shag
What passions, what greed, what crimes- nods of assent were exchanged
- lowering myself to the end of my leather strap
- (although it is not clear whose poop it was)
- as though by magic
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A trapdoor in the shag carpet popped open and a skinny man sprang up into the room. I almost didn’t recognize him without his bathrobe, for he now wore a zebra-striped body stocking.
“What passions, what greed, what crimes against decorum will you not stop at?” he exclaimed. “Human sacrifice I could have countenanced, as it’s for a noble cause, but such language! You’ve blasphemed in the temple! You don’t deserve to carry out the sacrifices!”
Clown faces were turned to face one another. Nods of assent were exchanged. Carla and her tragi-comic compatriot reared, throwing off their ringmasters and rising to their feet. They charged the zebra man and pinned him to the wall.
While the clowns were thus occupied, and before my brothers could recover, I seized Tesla’s wrist and dashed for the trapdoor. “You first,” I told her. She seemed more dazed than ever, making no moves of her own volition, so I guided her into the opening in the floor.
She dropped like a stone, vanishing silently into darkness.
“Shit!” I exclaimed, climbing down and holding onto the edges of the hole as Jupiter and Jove scrambled in my direction and the skinny man moaned disconcertingly. There was no ladder or stairs below the trapdoor, just something like a belt dangling there. I grabbed onto it and slammed the door, sealing out all light from above.
As I descended, my eyes accommodated to the dimness and I could see that if it was a belt I was hanging from it was for someone with at least a 50-foot waistline. Down I went, lowering myself to the end of my leather strap but still nowhere near the bottom. I held on, exerting all my senses for a clue about what to do next. I could see rough stone walls like a mineshaft. I heard dripping water that belonged to stalactites, and distant clicks that belonged to cave crickets. There was a pungent smell, definitely poop (although it is not clear whose poop it was).
There was no sign of Tesla. She had disappeared as though by magic, or as if down a shaft so deep that I hadn’t heard her hit the bottom.
bonus points for using them in order