risibility
[ riz-uh-bil-i-tee ]
noun, plural ris·i·bil·i·ties.
1. Often risibilities. the ability or disposition to laugh; humorous awareness of the ridiculous and absurd.
2. laughter.
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Jack
wrung his hands as he slowly made his way through the dark forest. He had no
idea how he had gotten there, since he had been hiking in the state park. Then
he turned a corner on the trail, and everything was different. The trees were larger,
and covered most of the sky. There was an oppressive, ominous feeling in the
air. And then there was the laughter.
It was a
light, tittering laughter that, by itself, would not cause any real distress.
The problem was that it came from dozens of places all around him. Whatever creatures
were laughing were all around him, hidden in the dense foliage.
Every
time he heard a new source of the laughter, Jack quickly turned to try and find
who, or what, it came from. He had yet to succeed. It was a cold comfort knowing
that the laughing things were at least staying a good distance away from him.
“What is
it?”
Jack
froze. That was the first voice he had heard, and it came from the tree. It
seemed like whoever was laughing could also speak.
“Don’t
know, don’t know. Never seen anything like it.” Said another voice. This was
followed by more laughter.
“It’s
ugly.” A third said.
That got
to him. Jack had always considered himself a good-looking guy. Maybe not movie
star quality, but still good. And he had never heard any of his past
girlfriends complain about his looks.
“What
should we do with it?”
“Should
we eat it?”
“No!”
Jack cried. “No you shouldn’t. I, uh, I’m poisonous, yeah. If you eat me, you’ll…you’ll
swell up until you burst. Literally. It’ll
be like, pop!”
The
laughter stopped for a moment. Then it came back several times louder and more
numerous.
“It says
it’s poison!”
“It’s
very funny! Maybe we should take it and make it tell jokes instead of eating
it!”
They
could tell he was lying? That did not bode well. At least he had amused them.
That might be worth something. Maybe he could play up the comedy factor. Then
again, humor had never been one of his strong suits, even among people he knew.
He had no idea what these things would find funny. Although, they seemed to
find his very existence funny, so there was that.
“O-oh
yeah, you should do that. That sounds a lot better than eating me.” He said. “I
bet I’m a lot funnier than I am tasty. Hell, I probably don’t even taste very
good. I’m probably really stringy and
coppery tasting. So yeah, better to keep
me alive for entertainment than dinner.”
Being a
glorified clown for these things was definitely better than dying. He could at
least figure out where he was and maybe even how to get away.
“Too
much work.” One of the voices said. “I still say we eat it. We can find fun
things elsewhere, yes?”
The
laughter grew in intensity. And the things grew closer. Jack started to run.
“It runs!
It runs! We will chase it!” Said dozens of the laughing creatures.
Jack
never looked behind him to see what was chasing him. All he heard was the rustling
of great leaves and the wild laughter of his pursuers. His breath soon came in
ragged gasps and his legs burned. And then he felt something. His foot caught
on an exposed root. He hit the floor. And then he felt nothing.
*********************************
Yeah, it's exactly what you think it is. He's not going to be seen again. Like, ever. Que dramatic music and all that.
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