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You feel your eyes start to itch as Cliff gives you a forced, almost painful smile, so you run with the only strategy you can think of: rushing at him with arms outstretched, you leap over the greaser’s desk and tackle him out of his chair and onto the ground!
“ACK! Cripes, Stan, you-”
As your <span class="mu-r">HAY FEVER</span> starts to act up again, you bury your face into the skeleton’s denim-clad shoulder and hold it there even after he reluctantly holds you close.
“It’s okay, kid…” he murmurs as you struggle to get your damn allergies under control, “Everything’s… everything’s gonna be fine, dig?”
Shaking your head, you muster the strength to unbury yourself and lean in close to where his ear would have been when he was still alive.
Thank you, Cliff, you whisper in a shaky, hushed tone, for <span class="mu-i">everything</span>...
“Remember what I said about bein’ a leader, yea?” He asks as you stuff your face back into the damp, snotty corner of his jacket. “No matter what happens… or who you lose along the way… stay strong. If not for you, well…” The greaser’s soft voice trails off as both you and him crane your necks to look out the window at the festivities and revelers below.
“... then for the ones who are rootin’ for ya… dig?”
Y-yea, you stammer as the two of you slowly pick yourselves up from the floor now littered with papers, you…
You <span class="mu-i">dig</span>.
Brushing your shoulders clean of dust, Cliff holds them both for a second and gives you a long, hard stare before giving you another smile–this time a real one.
“Alright, one more look…”
As he leads you over to the window, your eyes are met with a scene you never thought you’d ever see, much less in <span class="mu-g">CLEARWATER:</span> a fairground stuffed to the brim with laughing, dancing, frolicking skeletons like the happiest anchovies you’ve ever seen! Some wear their army uniforms from countless time periods, some strut around in rancher and cowboy garb, many sport outrageous hairdos and tough-guy leather jackets, and some don’t seem to fit into any category at all. One thing unites them, though, and you can see it on all of them even without skin, muscles, or faces to show it:
“They’re havin’ the time of their lives, huh?” Cliff remarks with pride as he gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “They could all be gone tomorrow an’ they wouldn’t give a damn.”
But, you sniff, still dealing with your sudden allergic attack, but what about <span class="mu-i">after</span> tha-
“Life, Stanley, is meant ta’ be <span class="mu-i">lived</span>.” Cliff declares with absolute certainty in his voice. “You could live for a hundred years or maybe even a day, but even getting a small <span class="mu-i">drop</span> of that sweet, sweet freedom?”
The skeleton pauses to take a whiff of it.
“There ain’t no better gift this world can give us.”
You… you don’t… you don’t really get it…
“You will, kiddo.” Cliff sighs as you both continue watching. “Some day.”
>CONTD.
