WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VIOLENCE. GRAPHIC, SLOW, TORTUROUS VIOLENCE. RATED M. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH OR ARE IN ANY WAY SENSITIVE TO HUMAN SUFFERING.
Alright, now that that is out of the way... There was an enormous amount of hatred towards Randy the extreme instructor dude, and thus I promised I would write an extra epilogue just to deal with him. During the process of writing this epilogue, I got a tad carried away, and ended up making it incredibly graphic. It's twisted, it really is. I probably need therapy. I know you hated him, but did he really deserve to suffer so? You decide... And let me just warn you, I'm not joking here. This isn't like, 'aah, singing goblins, halp halp', this is like, 'aah, I'm dying slowly and horribly and in a lot of pain'. Jareth really doesn't like Randy, apparently. Plus, years of being alone and bitter have made him incredibly twisted.
Or is that just me?
This chapter also contains several goblins who aren't Hig. Thus, several goblins without Hig's intelligence. Thus, normal goblins.
I apologise if this offends any Americans. It's truly not (entirely) intentional. Some of my favourite famous people are American. Amanda Palmer is American, and I would happily have her children. Johnny Depp is American, and..................................... Sorry, thinking about Johnny Depp and David Bowie and tight pants all at once causes my brain to die. Anyway, the point is, I do not mean to offend you if you are American. Randy is just one of the worst American cliches, and thus brings out wrath.
I hope you enjoy this. Let it never be said I don't give the people what they want (remember that when I'm taking over the world).
I do not own Labyrinth, goblins, Jareth, an annoying American person or the Beastie Boys. I do own the Oubliette of Really Pointy Things. The idea for putting the fetus things in the Oubliette comes from Rioku Moondove (hope I got that right), who is awesome.
If all you put in a review is a diatribe about how messed up I am, I will understand. Thankyou.
Randy sat at his desk, filling out paperwork. The Beastie Boys blared from a radio in the corner, and he tapped his foot in time to the music, humming softly to himself.
Suddenly the room went dark, the song cutting out with a screech. Randy looked up, blinking amiably. There was a flash, and a figure was silhouetted in the corner of the cramped office; tall, thin, a halo of hair, an upright, regal bearing.
"Hello, Randy." The voice was low, seductive, velvet dripping over a razor's edge.
"H-howdy." Randy ventured cautiously, peering through the darkness.
The figure stepped forward, standing in front of the desk with folded arms. The room was lit suddenly with a shuddering light, like a candle in the wind, and the figure was illuminated.
"Well, Howdy! James, wasn't it?" Randy beamed, standing and offering his hand.
Jareth smirked, a dangerous expression that caused Randy's smile to falter. "Not quite."
"Well, what can I do you for?"
"I have a job for you, Randy." Jareth's tone remained calm, his smirk sinister.
"Gnarly! What kind of job?" He grinned excitedly, teeth flashing in the stuttering light.
Jareth's only response was to smirk all the wider. He held out a crystal, offering it to the American, who stared eagerly into its' depths.
"You are to teach bungee jumping to some subjects of mine."
"Whoa... it's like..."
"It's called an oubliette." Jareth explained coolly. "It comes from the French word for 'forgetting'."
"Extreme..." Randy reached out to touch the crystal's surface.
As soon as his fingers made contact, he disappeared. Jareth held the crystal up, looking into it with a satisfied smile. Then he, too, disappeared, leaving behind nothing but glitter and a rumble of laughter, deep and joyous and chilling to the bone.
Randy found himself sitting on the edge of a round hole, ankles tied together. There was a rope leading from his ankles to a sturdy-looking pole, which arched over the top of the hole. Looking around, he found himself to be in a low, dark chamber. Large eyes peered a him from the shadows, and snickers rebounded erratically throughout the room.
"Howdy there!" Randy called cheerily, waving.
Several creatures, squat and dirty and ugly, inched forward from the shadows. They steered suspiciously at him, large eyes narrowing.
"Well, aren't you funny-looking dudes?" Randy beckoned for them to come closer.
"Careful." One of them warned. "King says he's dangerous."
"Very dangerous." Another nodded.
"King says he's American." One of them informed the others in a squeaky stage-whisper. There was a horrified gasp from around the room.
"Don't worry, little dudes! I won't hurt you!" Randy assured them cheerily.
"Creepy." A goblin nodded sagely.
"King says we have to push him into the ooby... the obbly..." A brown goblin with a large boil on his chin stammered. "The big hole in the ground."
"Hey now, there's no need for that!" Randy grinned at them, pearly teeth flashing.
"Aah!" One goblin screamed.
"My eyes!" Yelled another, covering his face and running into a wall.
"Blind!" Shrieked one, sobbing fitfully.
"Make it stop!" Yelled the brown goblin, running at Randy and shoving him into the hole.
"Much better." A goblin said happily.
"All gone." Agreed another.
"Still blind!" Wailed the crying goblin.
"Open your eyes, Gurt." A goblin with a sock oh his nose sighed.
"Oh." Gurt opened one eye, then the other. Finding the room free of smiling Americans, he smiled happily and began picking at a piece of bellybutton lint. "No more American." He mumbled cheerily.
Whoa, this is extreme, Randy thought as he fell down the hole. I'm totally bungee jumping underground!
Then he noticed something glinting on the ground that was rapidly rushing up to greet him. Several Things, in fact. Things that, even from this distance, looked Really Pointy.
I totally hope this rope is like, long enough, Randy thought absently to himself. But who cares?! This is totally EXTREEEEME!
The rope wasn't long enough. Randy screamed as the Really Pointy Things sliced into his arms and face, hooking into his flesh and tearing it away in long strips. Things -like foetuses on sticks, but with teeth like daggers- bit at him, rending the meat straight from the bone. Several of the Really Pointy Things were rusted with salt, and the salt and the rust were left in the wounds as the rope snapped taut, bringing Randy out of the Oubliette and sending him back up again.
He came up far enough to see goblin eyes staring gleefully down at him, before he was again catapulted into the dark. Twice more he plummeted into the abyss, each time shrieking as fresh pains lacerated his very being.
"Screams like girl." One of the goblins observed.
"Screams like Queen." Another nodded.
"Girly American." A third concurred.
"Pretty girl." Another noted sadly.
"Not any more." The brown one replied happily.
"No." The other agreed. "Not any more."
Randy was on the way down again when suddenly, there was a crack. The pole to which the rope was attached was snapping under the strain. He shrieked, a metal spike embedding itself all the way through his arm and out the other side. He was tugged upwards again by the rope's elasticity, then plummeted downwards again. This time, as the rope pulled taut, the pole snapped. There was a loud thud, then a scream, long and drawn-out, disquietingly piercing, then silence.
Randy did not resurface.
The goblins stared nervously into the hole, shuffling their feet and glancing surreptitiously at each other.
"American gone." One of them noted.
"Painful." Another winced.
"Maybe he fell on a chicken." On of them offered hopefully.
The others shook their heads, and the little goblin bowed his respectfully.
"What shall we tell King?" One of them asked suddenly, voice panicked.
"It was a chicken!"
"One of the foetuses ate him!"
The others stared at the last goblin to speak.
":Stick broke. Stick bad. Stick's fault." He argued reasonably.
The others nodded wisely amongst themselves, stroking their chins thoughtfully in poor imitation of their King.
There was a sudden crackle and a shower of glitter, and Jareth himself appeared before them, clad head-to-toe in glittering, black armour. He looked slightly ruffled, inordinately pleased, and there was what appeared to be a smudge of lipstick on his cheek, but he was still imposing, regal and fearsome.
"I thought I'd better check on our little guest." He smirked, then narrowed his eyes. "I don't hear any screaming."
The goblins shuffled their feet nervously, eyes cast downwards.
"Well?" Jareth asked, voice pleasantly deadly.
"American gone." One mumbled.
"What do you mean, 'gone'?" Jareth enquired suspiciously.
"Stick broke." The brown goblin mumbled.
"Stick bad." Said the goblin with the sock on his nose.
"Stick's fault!" Another goblin assured him.
Jareth was still for a moment, then he strode forward and peered over the edge of the hole. He winced, turning away and shaking his head.
"Well, ah..." Jareth stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Tell you what, chaps. If you promise not to tell Sarah about this, I'll... Give you all a free chicken."
The goblins cheered.
"But... what happens if we do tell her?" A goblin asked nervously.
Jareth merely smirked and pointed to the hole. The goblins peered into it at the remains of the instructor.
"Telling bad." A goblin shuddered.
Jareth nodded slowly.
"No telling Queen." The goblins told each other, making sure the message was heard.
"Not telling good." The brown goblin reminded them, patting a black chicken feather on his belt. The other goblins nodded.
"Well, chaps, now that we've got that sorted, I have a naked queen to get back to." Jareth's eyes momentarily glazed over, a joyous smile on his face. Then he waved his hand, and he was gone.
"King bad." A goblin whispered.
"King strange." The goblin with the sock on his nose stuck out his tongue. "Likes naked Queen!"
The other goblins nodded.
"Queen sexy." Informed a smaller goblin. "King says so."
The other goblins fell into a debate over the meaning of the word 'sexy'.
"King sexy." Said a goblin dreamily.
This was discussed heatedly, before the topic went hideously off track and became something to do with chicken foetuses on a stick.
At the bottom of the Oubliette of Really Pointy Things, Randy twitched one last time. As the final breath left his body, he thought one thing:
At least my death was extreeeeeeeme...