Timmy Descends into Hell

From a peaceful dream of fairies and dancing maidens and bards, Timmy awoke and sat up in his bed, his eyes looking about his room. From every side, he saw the pictures of all the things he idolized. There was the print of the dragon that he had begged his parents to get him at the Celtic festival a couple years back when he was barely old enough to comprehend what a dragon was. There was his older brother's old Super Nintendo with the game Donkey Kong Country in there and a controller stretching half-way across said room. Of course there was also his favorite blanket, blue and green plaid that his grandmother had knitted him when he was only a year old.

While the sights of all his favorite things in the world comforted him for a brief moment, Timmy, reeling from his dream, realized that there was something missing in his life and it was something that he needed lest he would not be able to sleep. So Timmy clenched his teeth and threw off his blanket (his father was stingy with the thermostat, so of course the heat had not yet been turned on), the cool air from late-autumn piercing through him like a cold knife. But through it all Timmy flung himself out of bed against the cold air--he was a young man braving it against the elements with his one-piece Voltron: Defender of the Universe garb with feet.

Yet Timmy knew that he would not be long against the dim, dark night if he did not take proper precautions. Fumbling through the darkness of the toy chest, he grabbed his flashlight and baseball bat and made his way across his room, turning on the flashlight. He stood in front of his door, portal away from his sanctuary, decorated with an enraged Homer Simpson and his all-too- cliche "d'oh!" escaping his lips via word bubble. Gathering his wits, Timmy pressed on through his door and into the hall. Sneaking quietly, he moved through the perilous hall of discarded shoe boxes and side tables placed in the narrow hall. He knew that one false move and he and his quest to retrieve that which his life required would end and he would be returned to the journey to the land of nod.

He sighed happily as he looked to his parents' room's door, closed as it often wasn't. Quietly he moved past the closed door and down the stairs which he illuminated with his flashlight, looking to make sure that no stray toy would stand in his way. Luckily, the stairs had been purged of such obstacles by the over-zealous mistress of tidiness (his mother). Surely it was a good sign that he made it half way down the stairs without a single mistake.

That was as far as poor Timothy had gone before trouble reared its ugly head.

It was his brother, downstairs in the family room watching television with his girlfriend. He would surely have to make a run for it or else a stray eye would catch him and he would be discovered. So turning off his flashlight, he moved with all the agility pent up in his eight year old body and made a run for it, ducking into the dining room at the end of the stairs. Just as he thought he was safe, he heard a sound, a sound that threatened his very existence and alone had the ability to take away that-which-he-must-have.

"Did you hear something?" came the sickly sweet, feminine voice from that harpy of a girlfriend that his brother had chosen to be his future mate. She was a demon of pure evil and if she had heard him, she would stop at nothing to take it all away from him and he would have to escape to his only refuge.

"I didn't hear a thing. Must have been the cat," he heard his brother respond. For once, he said a silent prayer for his brother, informing God that perhaps he really might not be the devil after all.

Returned from his divine aside, Timmy crept close to the wall moving ever closer to his goal, afraid that the click of his flashlight would merit an investigation by the foul temptress. He moved deftly, all in thanks to the fact that after his father had painted the dining room, he had been much too lazy to move all the furniture back against the wall. Sometimes he wondered about his mother's judgment of giving the poor man a hard time for the very thing that that now blessed him with such ease of movement.

However! It then came! While he leaned against the wall, he felt it give way and he tumbled into the darkness, feeling himself rolling down a hard slide that ended with a hard, hot floor. All in all, it wasn't a completely terrible feeling short of his bruised bottom--see, he was very cold and the heat made him feel much better. It was in the glorious warmth that he then realized that perhaps he should not praise his father too much, for the feeling of the wondrous heat would not be so heavenly had the man turned the heat on to keep his family warm.

Soon, though, the heat became irresistible, as if a dragon were breathing fire onto him. He wondered just what the immense heat was until his surroundings were illuminated by the hellfire of the abyss surrounded the rock platform that he sat upon, watching the slide retract up towards the small hole in the wall that was his dining room. He let a quiet curse of frustration escape his lips (one which he had said before and had his mouth washed out for).

Timmy gasped as a foul odor washed over him and the silhouette of a great demon towered before him. Had his wits been with him, he might have asked if he new his brother's girlfriend. But no, the wits were gone.

"Who dares enter by domain while life still beats in his heart, of a boy who yet even worse has not resigned himself to hatred?!" came the silhouette's booming voice as the fires of hell itself began to rise around him, curving in a dome all around him. "Why it is just a tiny boy with no power whatsoever! Underlings, take this boy and throw him into the prison. We shall find why the tiny, powerless crusader has stormed the very gates of hell!"

Surrounded by ugly people who resembled those he hated much began to appear and grab at him as he fought in vain to escape. His oh-so-mean principle, his smelly teacher, that stupid girl at recess, and worse, his brother's harpy of a girlfriend, seized him and began to take him away in a direction he did not know... for it was neither up nor down, right nor left, forwards nor backwards... it was a direction that even the most learned physicists could never comprehend. And that was where he was going.

Eventually, he found himself in a little cell with an old, Arabic lamp laying on the floor. Without thinking of anything except the movie Aladdin, which he had been forced to watch with his cousin Ginny last summer at his grandparents', he ran for the lamp and rubbed it. Much to his surprise, a puff of blue smoke actually came out of the lamp and formed into a genie!

"Who dares disturb me?!" came a voice, booming, frightening, not at all like Robin Williams.

"Shush... if you speak so loudly they'll find out that you're in here. You're going to get me out of here and I don't want them to take you away from me!" Timmy whispered, looking behind him to see that his Aunt Gretchen and Uncle Abner, now demonic jailers, had taken notice of the commotion and began to come towards the cell to investigate.

"Hurry! Get us back to my room!" Timmy yelled at the genie, his eyes beginning to tear up, wondering just what would happen if his aunt and uncle got to him. Would they torture him? Iron maiden, Chinese water torture, or worse, cheek pinching? He did not want to find out.

"What?" asked the Genie, sounding genuinely confused.

"Don't you genies give three wishes to the one that rubs the lamp?!" Timmy screamed, backing up as he watched his aunt and uncle open the door to his cell.

"Of course... but you have to start it out with 'I wish.'"

"I wish you would take us to my bedroom and away from all these evil people!" Timmy cried as his aunt reached to pinch his cheeks. Oh, the humanity! But before his cheeks knew humiliation, they felt cold again as he looked around his room, his familiar dragon poster, bumbling buffoon and a large primate named after an ass--yet strangely, he had one more thing than he had not had before.

He had the genie's lamp! With that, he could cast away every doubt in the world and with it conjure the goal of his quest... he could sate the very yearning that forced him from his of bed and brave the very pits of hell. So with all the courage that he had pent up in his little body, Timmy rubbed the lamp and the genie sprung forth from its depths, large eyes sizing him up.

"What is it you wish of me now?" the genie demanded in its booming voice, crossing its arms.

"I wish for only one thing, genie. I woke up in the middle of the night and I braved many perils and there was only one thing I wanted. I went through hell itself and I intend to obtain the object of my quest." Timmy sat forward and looked at the genie his eyes narrowing as he held out his hand expectedly for what he would be obtaining with his second wish.

"I wish for a glass of milk."

The End

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