Blunderball

The Dunwich Helper(s)

Challenge #9: Write a story in collaboration with at least one other author. It must feature a ragtag bunch of misfits, a humanoid abomination, as well as MacGuyvering and a character being punished for doing a good deed. Of these tropes, one must be played straight, one inverted, one subverted and one exaggerated.

This story was written in collaboration with G. Deyke and Aida Reluzco.

"Hi. My name's Steve, and I have the face of an eldritch abomination."

A mumbled "Hi, Steve" made its way around the room in acknowledgement. Steve, indeed, had the face of an eldritch abomination. Tentacle-beard and all.

"I wasn't always this way," Steve explained. "I mean—obviously. Can you imagine what my mother would have said if I'd come out like this?"

The room tittered nervously.

"I've always had skin problems," Steve continued, "but, like, conventional skin problems. Not go-mad-from-the-revelation skin problems. I try to stay fairly upbeat, but..." Steve trailed off dejectedly, staring into the expectant, if uncomfortable, faces before him.

"Anyway, there was a sketchy clinical trial in Fresno and here we are." He scratched a tentacle.

"That's not a...normal...side effect, is it?" Meg Guyver was the first to break the awkward silence.

"No, no I don't think..." Steve took a small orange bottle from his coat pocket and peered at it. "Oh. Oh, I see. Well, it's certainly not supposed to be common anyway."

The heavy wooden door of the church cafeteria swung open with a groan, and a kid lugging an oversized backpack made his way into the room. The entire group turned to face him.

"Hey, I'm Billy—" The teenager stopped short, seeing the motley arrangement of persons in front of him. "Uh. This isn't the D&D club, is it?"

"No," explained Lazy Boyd, the group chairman. "This is Misfits Anonymous."

"Anyway," Steve continued, as Sally Spoonfists guided Billy to a seat in the circle. "I guess I just wanted to say, I really know what it's like not to fit in. On account of...you know. The whole Cthulhu makeover thing."

Steve took his seat.

"Um," said Billy. "I don't think I belong here—"

"Then you do," Squidman Fran assured him.

"But, uh, I think I do know something that could help? My second cousin's best friend's sister says there's a genie in the bottle bank at that recycling centre just outside of town. It's super hard to get to, though. At least, my dad says that's why we don't recycle."

Everyone stared at Billy again, who shrank into his seat.

"Actually, I think that's a great idea," quipped Blornax the Unstoppable. Blornax, though slight in stature—very slight, actually—stood with their chest puffed out. "I say we check it out. For Steve!"

"FOR STEVE!" they cheered.

An hour later saw the entire twenty-odd-member support group piled precariously into the back of Meg Guyver's beat-up pickup truck, driving in hopeless circles while Gassy Pete yelled out directions from a semi-functional GPS.

The device took them to a set of large, chain-link gates topped with those knobbly blade things that are apparently supposed to look less rubbish than razorwire but definitely don't.

A sign had been set up just beside them: "CLOSED: MONDAY – FRIDAY. OPEN: TUESDAY – THURSDAY."

The lot of them milled about the entrance, mumbling amongst themselves "Vague" and "Is it open or closed?" and that sort of thing when Meg Guyver cried out, "Hang on! I need a tube of toothpaste, AA batteries and a cantaloupe!"

"Ooh, can you make a lockpick?" asked Johnny Two-Step, checking his pockets.

"What? Oh, no. Just don't let me forget to pick up my shopping on the way home."

"So how do we get past this gate?" asked Twizzler Toes.

"There's a manhole cover just over there," observed Alli Gator.

"No complaints here!" said No-nose Nelly, stepping forth.

After a few futile attempts at pulling off the cover of the manhole, the group stood around mumbling again. Steve made a vague sound of discontent and began to protest before Billy dropped his backpack pulling out the Dungeons & Dragons 6th Edition Dungeonmaster's guidebook.

"There isn't a problem in the world that can't be solved with this," he explained, patting the book fondly.

He flipped around a bit, looked carefully at some tables, and finally snapped it shut with an air of great finality.

"I know how we can get through," he announced. "It's a push manhole cover."

He pushed it, and it opened. Morty, who was only a misfit because of his ominous name, took point in the damp labyrinth, guiding the group through and beneath the recycling centre. Soon they'd all crowded up through another, similar manhole cover: this time by pulling.

"So where's this genie?" asked Benjamin Franklin (no relation).

"Start rubbing bottle banks, everyone!" cried Larry Who Repeats Everything He Says. "Start rubbing bottle banks!"

So they did. And it was sticky.

The project itself was incredibly daunting, but there were just so many of them. Eventually, a rather dramatic shower of glass spilled from the container where Angry Eloise was buffing away. Barefoot Bruce yelped in pain.

The air took on the spooky green tinge of ancient magic.

"WHO DARES CALL UPON MY POWER?" boomed a voice from the glowing, pulsating mist.

"We all do," said Meg, addressing the genie. "For Steve!"

"FOR STEVE!" the Misfits echoed, except for Bruce, who was still squealing.

"We want to fix Steve's super messed-up face—"

"Hey!" yelled Steve.

"—so that he doesn't have to be a misfit anymore!"

"IT SHALL BE DONE!" announced the genie.

With a crack of lightning and boom of thunder, the entire recycling centre shook, glass showering down upon everyone and Barefoot Bruce, who was still screaming. Once the spots faded from their eyes, they eagerly turned to Steve, who looked...oddly the same.

So did everyone else. Not the same as before: the same as Steve. He felt like he was looking through a mirror—or several.

"Well," said Duckface the Previously Untentacled. "Shit."

"At least he's not a misfit anymore," offered Mandy Mint-Breath. "None of us are."

Steve looked from one betentacled face to another.

"You know," he said, "I think it was actually better when I didn't have to see it myself."