The air was stale, a strange mix of chocolate-chip, evil and regret. Equal parts.
On the tongue you still tasted the tension of everything that had happened in this room before; the dents in the walls stood as distant reminders; the burn marks whispered of tragedy.
The table was gone, replaced by seven simple wooden chairs in a circle. Hard. Uncomfortable. Not especially sturdy. All the participants of the self-help group were already there, waiting for their counselor. All but one.
Mr. Mackey came in and immediately dimmed the lights.
“Let’s not be too bright, m’kay?” he said. He looked around and nodded.
“Nice, nice… I see we’re almost all here. Let’s not wait for Reralt m’kay, he’s always late. So let’s start, m’kay?”
***
They sat in their creaking chairs. The large green man was nearly sinking through his. Every breath he took made the wood groan. Every heartbeat might be the chair’s last.
Next to him sat a creature with a long nose and wrinkled skin, wearing nothing but a sack as a dress. He shifted his weight awkwardly, apologetic to both sides. He glanced once at the green man—stoic, staring straight ahead, desperate not to shatter the chair—and then quickly forward. On his other side, a dragon sat, glaring directly at him, smoke curling from his nostrils. The smoke smelled of anger and contempt. Dobby decided forward was safest.
The dragon muttered to the person opposite him.
“Can you believe that? Eating the donuts and throwing away the box. Perfectly good box too. Could’ve used that.”
His nostrils glowed hot.
The person opposite nodded, more out of fear than agreement.
“Yes… tambourine. Could’ve used it as a tambourine.”
The dragon actually nodded, satisfied.
Next to him, arms crossed and as grumpy as always, sat a man in black. He had recently come to the realization that he wasn’t a hero at all—just a masochist with enough money to avoid consequences.
“Welcome, m’kay,” the counselor said, sitting down with a bright smile. “You’re all here because of multiversal problems interfering with your lives, m’kay? This is a safe space, m’kay.” He adjusted his glasses and opened his folder.
“So let’s all do short introductions. I have a… Dobby here?”
“H-Hello.” The wrinkled creature waved nervously. “I’m Dobby, and Dobby has a problem.”
“Hi, Dobby,” the others replied with the weary tone of people who really needed this autograph before moving on with their lives.
“D-Dobby… Dobby has difficulties telling.” The elf sucked in a deep breath.
“Take your time, m’kay,” Mackey soothed. “We’re here as long as we need.”
“Dobby likes to put clothing where Dobby should not put clothing.” He whimpered, looking nervously side to side.
The dragon frowned heavily. The green man snickered. His chair creaked under the strain; a screw shot out and pinged against the wall. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Good, Dobby,” Mackey confirmed in his cheerful, slow voice. “That’s part one of healing, m’kay.”
Dobby sat back down carefully, proud of his confession.
“Hulk?” Mackey asked.
“HULK ANGER ISSUES!” Hulk roared, so loud the man in black nearly fell out of his chair.
“Good. Very good, Hulk. No one’s died in five minutes—that’s progress, m’kay. Everyone, let’s give him a hand.”
They clapped nervously. Hulk nodded.
“Dandelion?” Mackey checked the next name on his list.
“Well,” the man said melodically, leaping up with one foot on his chair, one arm raised dramatically.
“COLOR MAN NO SING,” Hulk bellowed from his breaking chair, glaring at the lute. “HULK MIGRAINE.”
Disappointed, Dandelion sat back down.
“My name is Dandelion. I’m addicted to attention,” he said, making very sure everyone was looking at him.
“You don’t say,” the man in black smirked.
“No, no,” Mackey waved a finger at him. “This is a safe space, m’kay. Now, why are you here… Bad Man, is it? Silly name, m’kay?”
“It’s Batman,” he snapped.
“Like a bat?” Dandelion asked. “Like a vampire?”
“NOT like a vampire!” The man jumped up, yanking a bat-shaped device from his belt. “Like a bat, the animal! They live in caves, dwell in the dark!” He hurled the gadget like a boomerang.
“Dobby believes vampires also do,” Dobby muttered.
“Safe space, people, m’kay?” Mackey shushed them. “Let’s ask the bat-person why he is here. No assumptions.”
Batman slumped back into his seat, arms crossed.
“Well… apparently I’m not a hero. More of a villain.” He kicked at something under his chair.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“They called it OCPD”
“So Good, thank you for sharing,” Mackey said brightly. “We’ll talk about that more later, m’kay.”
The whole room turned to the massive dragon.
“Hello. I am Smaug.” His eyes glowed red, smoke puffing from his nostrils. “I don’t have a problem. But they”—he jabbed his nose toward Mackey—“want me to get rid of my stuff.”
“No, no, Smaug. We all agreed—you have a hoarding issue, m’kay. Denying it doesn’t make it go away.”
“I am a dragon. I must hoard.” Smaug’s teeth clicked angrily.
“Only gold and valuables, m’kay. We’ve talked about this. We thought you were ready for this. But your hoard is… old newspapers and yogurt containers, m’kay.”
“Containers are valuable!” Smaug snapped. “You can put things in them.”
He looked around nervous in the room “And they are limited edition, some of them”
Mackey looked at the dragon and sighed, his oversized head bobbing.
“You don’t have to live like this, m’kay,” he said gently, placing one cautious hand near Smaug’s snout.
“You don’t have to live in the filth of used food containers.”
***
“Great. Four whackadoodles and a hippie counselor,” the man in black muttered.
“Why can’t I just pay for a proper shrink?” he asked Dandelion—who brightened instantly, thrilled someone had spoken to him.
“I once knew a shrink,” Dandelion sung, striking a theatrical pose.
“Three miles under the sea!” he continued, reaching eagerly for his lute.
SNAP!
“AAAHHH!” Hulk roared as his chair finally gave up on being a chair and pursued a second career as scrapwood.
Smaug laughed, a plume of smoke curling into the air. Then, dead serious, he added:
“Don’t throw away the chair. Good wood is always handy.”
“HULK SEE LAUGH,” Hulk bellowed from the floor. “HULK SAD.”
Dobby leaned over and patted him gently on the shoulder—before quickly scooting further away. Inviting the green man to share his seat.
“HULK NOT SIT WITH SOCK FETISHIST!” Hulk shouted, refusing to get up. He remained sprawled on the ground like an angry green rug.
Dandelion finally found his lute and leapt onto his chair. He struck a triumphant chord—on strings wildly out of tune.
“She told me, underwater, your mind is really free!” he continued anyway, eyes shut in rapture.
Hulk clutched his ears and bellowed, “NO! HULK’S HEAD HURT!”
A shard of broken chair wood sailed past Dandelion’s head, courtesy of Hulk’s finger.
The next missile was Dobby, hurled bodily at the bard, smacking him square on the skull.
“People, m’kay, let’s all keep our cool,” Mackey urged, adjusting his glasses as chaos bloomed.
A knock at the door froze the room for a single moment.
A man poked his head in, wearing a polite smile.
“Are you all okay with tea, coffee, condiments?” he asked.
“We are all fine,” Mackey said quickly.
“Can I have the empty boxes?” Smaug asked, almost sheepish.
Mackey sighed.
“Thank you for choosing Hilton Airport Hotel for your meeting,” the man said, then vanished.
***
The heat seemed to drain from the room for a moment. The air itself grew calmer, less nervous with every passing second.
Still, one spark—one well-lit match—could set everything off again.
“So, Chiroptera man,” Dandelion said, climbing shakily to his feet, dangling a sock of dubious smell in one hand.
“BAT. MAN.” The caped figure hissed each word, glaring at him. “Why is this so difficult for you people?”
Dandelion lit up with delight—someone was paying attention to him again.
Batman head-butted him square on the nose. Blood spurted.
“Fam man unhead for,” the bard wheezed through his ruined nose, pointing to his throat. “Thif if the money maker.”
Batman calmly punched him in the throat. Then he snapped the lute clean in half.
“That was a perfectly good lute,” Smaug growled, smoke pouring thick from his nostrils.
A door creaked open and closed again. The echo of running footsteps—somebody fleeing. Nobody saw Mackey anymore. The faint echo of “m’kay” drifted down the hallway.
Another shard of chair wood flew across the room—Hulk’s contribution. Dandelion ducked. The missile struck Dobby in the eye.
“Well, great,” Smaug fumed, shaking his massive head. “Another piece of good wood wasted. Don’t you know we need to be careful with what we have?”
“You’re just trying to justify your hoarding,” Batman snapped. Cooperation had left him entirely.
“It’s not hoarding. It’s a hoard.” Smaug whipped a wing at him. “Some yogurt lids are collector’s editions.”
“HULK ANGRY NOW!” Hulk roared. “HULK SMASH!”
Dobby helpfully healed Dandelion, after he got his precious sock back.
“You want a song with that?” Dandelion asked brightly, throat still a bit sore..
And so the five of them happily destroyed the entire room.
Smaug swept up everything and added it to his hoard.
Dobby proudly unearthed another sock.
Batman injured at least five people—two physically.
Dandelion basked in the spotlight of his “wreck-it-all” song.
And Hulk… Hulk was gloriously, triumphantly angry.
***
(as performed by Dandelion, until silenced by structural collapse)
Look at me, the chairs are breaking fast,
Look at me, the windows didn’t last.
Look at me, the dragon’s hoard has grown,
Look at me, I sing while Hulk throws stone.
Look at me, the bat is punching throats,
Look at me, I thrive on ruined notes.
Look at me, the socks are flying free,
Look at me, the spotlight’s all on me.
Look at me, I dance on shattered glass,
Look at me, the roof comes down at last.
Look at me, the fire eats the wall,
Look at me and wreck it, wreck it all.
*For those people:
Dobby - House elf in Harry Potter series
Hulk - Marvel superheroe
Smaug - Dragon from the Hobbit (Lord of the Rings universe)
Dandelion - Bard in the Witcher Universe
Batman - DC universe
Mr Mackey - South park
