…

…

…

…please…

???: Mr Joyeaux?

…

…

…don’t wanna be…like Whiskey Bob…

??: Killjoy, wake up…

…

…

…masks smells like…stale potato chips…

???: Sir…?

…

…

…!

KILLJOY: I don’t like being called…sir?

The Prince of Pranks thrashes a moment more, before sitting bolt upright. He looks around frantically to see he is still inside the Killjoy Kave. He is sitting on the floor; the remains of an extravagant mask lay in tatters on the floor and a body-length mirror has a large crack in it nearby. Kneeling by our hero, looking relieved yet wary is the tailor Willhelm Claymore Hamphries.

MR HAMPHRIES: I’m sorry Killjoy, but I was beginning to grow concerned for you.

KILLJOY: What…what happened?

MR H: Well, as strange as this sounds, I think you passed out from lack of oxygen.

KJ: Lack of what now?

MR H: I think I might have made a small mistake in my measurements for your mask. I suspect it was effecting your ability to breathe. You were standing there, then you pitched forward into the mirror and have been unconscious for at least…ten minutes.

KILLJOY: Couldn’t breathe…?

MR H: I have been trying to bring you around, but I haven’t the slightest idea where you keep…well, anything here. I had to settle for trying to remove your mask. I had a devil of a time doing so.

KJ: The mask…

MR H: You were rather still for quite a while. It was only a few minutes ago that you began to stir slightly and tear at it. I couldn’t make out what exactly you were talking about, other than something that was upsetting you greatly.

KILLJOY: Oh…

HAMPHRIES: I take one hundred percent responsibility for what happened. I promise you I will not make the same mistake again.

KILLJOY: No, listen…just help me up.

The tailor helps the prankster to his feet, and Killjoy takes a few gulps of air

KILLJOY: Ok, that was a trip and a half. Talk about learning something the hard way.

MR H: Learning something?

KILLJOY: Well, a few things. First, masks are an acquired taste.

MR H: Indeed…

KJ: Second, Whiskey Bob is even more evil than I first thought. That shirt was nothing compared to the true darkness that guy is trying to spread…

MR H: Ok, that I am not completely following…

KJ: The mask man, the mask. No wonder he seems to win so much. The guy is probably cheating like crazy in his matches. And what better place to exploit near invulnerability than in the wrestling ring? Something must be done about him.

MR H: I see…so does that mean you are still wanting the mask for your match?

KJ: *momentary panic* You keep that thing away from me! No more masks. You were right all along: I can’t hide this chin. It would be a crime…

MR H: So what exactly are you going to do?

KJ: The only thing I can do. Me and Cayden are going to have to get through the first round of the Lethal Lottery by any means necessary. If for anything, then to keep Whiskey Bob…

MR H: Robbie Bourbon…

KJ: …from trying to take over the world!

Killjoy and Mr Hamphries suddenly freeze. A rather poorly made graphic appears, accompanied by a catchy if juvenile tune appear over them.

THEY’RE HAMPHRIES AND THE KILLJ

THEY’RE HAMPHRIES AND THE KIILJ…

…

…

…no.

THE IMAGE AND SONG CUT OFF ABRUPTLY AS THE SCENE RETURNS TO KILLJOY AND MR HAMPHRIES. THE TAILOR HAS HIS ARMS FOLDED ACROSS HIS CHEST AND IS SHAKING HIS HEAD.

KILLJOY: No?

MR H: No

KILLJOY: Aw…

FIN