A Fix (Patreon)
Content
"I can fix it."
"Huh?" It took a moment of searching to find the source of the voice. Below her, far, FAR below her, was a mewtwo, no taller than her stomach.
“Your depression,” the mewtwo continued. “I can fix it, if you’d like.” The gengar was unnerved by the little creature’s voice. She sounded young, her voice pitched unusually high, and yet…flat, devoid of emotion. The mewtwo stood unnaturally-still as she stared upwards. On any other, non-exhausting day, this might have been enough to give the gengar pause.
“Who the- ugh, just get lost. I’m not in the mood.” She waited a moment for the mewtwo to move. The tiny creature stood directly in the middle of the sidewalk, her arms behind her back in a disconcerting show of confidence for someone so small.
“I know. I know all about it. How you actually hate being a party clown. How you hate balloon animals, and party tricks. How you hate the long hours. How you hate being a literal plaything for children. How you hate the hot, stuffy suit. How you hate-”
“Get the hell away from me, before I call the cops!” She took a step closer to the little creature, her large, purple fist outstretched in an obviously threatening manner.
The mewtwo’s tail idly flicked to and fro. She paused for a moment, but otherwise stood as still as ever, continuing to stare upward at the clown-faced gengar. “How you hate the low pay and the extra favors it requires you to do so often. You know, the sexual favors. The ones that got you hired in the first place. It’s why you’re coming home so late tonight. You had to wait until the party was over, the children were away, and their father had an excuse to leave.”
The gengar deflated, the words dying in her throat as she stammered a reply. The mewtwo didn’t give her further time to process.
“It’s a niche business, for sure, but definitely makes you more than the party itself, when you’re lucky enough to get a biter, anyway. It happening a lot less from what I can tell. That lack of job security isn’t helping your depression, is it?”
The gengar said nothing, her mouth hanging slightly agape as she felt her throat tighten.
“Coming home feeling dirty and violated is just the cherry on top.” The mewtwo continued, cold and robotic. “I know you were considering ending it all the other day, and I thought that would be a bit of a waste, so as I said before: I can fix it. The depression. The anxiety. The fear. I can make it all go away. Just say the word.”
"Who...are you?"
The mewtwo cocked her head and brought a finger to her cheek as she pondered. She thought for a moment. "God," She said with a smile.
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Lucky wasn't always the person we know today. This is about where it started.