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A door creaking shut resounded through the Institute, causing The Archivist to look up from his papers. His eyes - so, so many of them, looking as they float around him, pupils darting from corner to paper to door and back again - all locked onto the two . . . creatures, as they enter the room.
A small, purple beast with one large scribbled eye (and a small one to match), toddled along next to a taller, stout yellow one. Both of them approached The Archivist, the purple one seeming almost nervous as he walked.
“Are you Jon, by chance?” He squeaked out. “My name’s Pim, and this is Charlie.” The little purple creature, Pim, gestured to the yellow man beside him. “We’re the Smiling Friends, and we were called to help you smile!”
Jon, absolutely not believing a word they said, rolled some of his eyes, the rest locked onto Pim and Charlie. He wasn’t exactly confused, per se, but skeptical. These beings are absolutely not human, and yet they were here, speaking as though this was a normal, everyday event.
Finally, Jon spoke. “And who, exactly, called you?”
“Uhh . . . “ Charlie paused, trying to remember what The Boss told him. “I think it was an Elias? Boot-shard? Bougie?”
“Bouchard.” Jon corrected. “And for your information, I am not in need of your services. Elias has a habit of making my life miserable, you two must be here out of some sick prank, or an attempt to make my day worse.”
Pim jumped slightly, worried by the negative tone. “Oh no no, it’s nothing like that! We don’t want to make your day worse! We’re here to make you smile, and it sure sounds like you need it!” He tapped two fingers together nervously. “You don’t have to accept our services, just tell us what we can do to make you happy. It’s our job, after all!”
Still skeptical, Jon set down the papers he had previously been reading, all eyes now fully focused on the two in his office. “Your . . . job.” He repeated. “Your salaried job is to make people smile? Fascinating.”
Bearing a confused look, Pim nodded slowly. “Yes? We bring whimsy and joy to people’s lives! Don’t you want some whimsy and joy, Mister Sims?”
“No.” Jon answered quickly. However, he began to think. These two have met a lot of people, ‘helped’ a lot of strange individuals. Surely they have a statement to give him, right? “Well . . . Maybe.” He pulled a tape recorder out of a drawer in his desk, setting it on top of the papers from before. “You should tell me about a job you’ve taken, any interesting one. Has anything stood out to you? Any odd, inhuman events that have happened? Eyes watching where there shouldn’t be, doppelgangers that don’t quite look like you but everyone thinks it’s you in the flesh, strange books?”
“Well,” Charlie started. “There was that time in Spamtopia, where you couldn’t look anyone in the eye. Remember, Pim?” He nudged the small man with his elbow, chuckling slightly.
“Oh, yeah! How could I forget Oscar?” Pim grinned at the memory. “That was an interesting experience. Or that time you died, traversed hell, and revived again the next morning?”
Unbeknownst to them, Jon had started recording. All of this information was delicious, as weird as it was. He had never quite gotten a statement like this one before. “What happened with this . . . Oscar? Was he an all-seeing being?”
Pim waved his hands rapidly. “Oh no no, nothing like that! He was just insecure about his eye! It was a little weird, but nothing a good smile and an almost-execution couldn’t fix!” He paused before resuming his story. “Though, The Boss taking his nose off to offer me cyanide was something I didn’t expect.”
“Taking his nose off? Interesting . . .” Jon nodded slowly, the eyes starting to glow a little more. “Is this ‘Boss’ human?”
“Great question, man.” Charlie interjected. “I mean he looks human, but I’m not too sure about if he actually is one or not.”
The Stranger, Jon thought to himself as he made sure his tape recorder was actually recording. It was. Perfect.
“So, your boss, who seems human but you’re unsure if he is or not, is the one sending you off to make people happy? How does he even find these cases? I know you mentioned my boss calling, but does he ever just . . . send you out?”
“I mean, sorta?” Pim shrugged. “Sometimes he asks us to do odd jobs, and we end up meeting people. Charlie made the devil smile because he died while we were getting a Christmas tree, after all.”
That confused Jon. The Devil himself was a client? Are these two fucking with him? “Elaborate on that, if you would.”
“On Charlie meeting the Devil?”
“Yes, please.”
Charlie, finally putting more than a couple of words into the conversation, sighed. “What’s there to add? I died, traveled through hell to find the Devil, he was basically a locked-in neckbeard of a guy, made him smile by being tortured, God got me out and I attended my own funeral.” With that, he shoved his hands into his pockets and withdrew once again. Pim does all the talking anyway, doesn’t he?
“I see.” Jon said, leaning back in his chair. His eyes glowed brighter as he processed the information presented to him. He knew it was true, that this wasn’t just a load of shit Elias set two people in costumes up to. Where, he wondered, did these two come from?
Static began to fill the air as he thought more on what he was presented with. Pupils darted around, looking deeply into the eyes of Pim and Charlie. Why were they here.
“Umm . . . Mister Sims?” Pim stuttered out, swatting at an eye that popped up next to him.
Charlie grabbed his shoulder, pulling him closer to whisper. “This guy’s a lost cause, Pim. Let’s get out of here.”
With that, they quietly slipped out of the room, making sure the door didn’t creak as they left. Leaving Jon to his thoughts, pondering what beasts entered his office on this day.