Dimentio's Performance and Pie

Right in the heart of Main Street, there stood a grand sign that commanded attention. It proudly displayed the name "Dimentio's Performance and Pie,"

The place reeked of age, its walls crumbling and decaying, a testament to its neglected state. It was evident that it had been constructed hastily and with little care. As Count Bleck approached, he noticed the absence of any signs of life. No smoke billowed from the chimney, and the eerie stillness gave the impression that the establishment had been abandoned for quite some time. It wasn't, though. There were just a few flickering lights on inside.

A rusted metal staircase sat attached to the store, bringing Count Bleck's attention to the abandoned apartment above the shop.

Inside the shop, a jester stood proudly on a small stage, taking exaggerated bows with a playful flair. Despite the absence of an audience, he chuckled to himself, finding humor in the solitude. As he hopped down, he swatted away a few pesky flies that had gathered around the stale meat pies. He leaned down to sniff the pies, only to recoil in disgust. The scent of decay permeated the air, a stark reminder that everything within the shop was slowly rotting away.

With a casual shrug, the jester retreated behind the counter, brandishing a large knife. He skillfully chopped away at various packages of mysterious meat, unaware of the exact ingredients that would fill his pies. Given the high cost of quality meat, he was left with no choice but to make do with the cheapest substitutes available.

The jester continued chopping as the bell at the front door jingled, breaking the eerie silence. His attention was instantly captured. A mix of disbelief and excitement washed over him as he laid eyes on the tall figure standing just inside his shop.

"A customer!" the jester exclaimed with uncontainable excitement, his grin widening as he sprinted towards Count Bleck, knife still in hand.

The count swiftly pulled away, his hand reaching for the door handle, filled with regret for entering. But his escape was thwarted as the jester's hand firmly held the door shut.

"Hey, what's the rush?! Sorry if I frightened you. Name's Dimentio! Haven't seen a customer in weeks! Take a seat! Go on, sit! Sit! Want some pie?! I've got pie!" the clown quickly explained while slamming the knife into the door so he could have both his hands free. He quickly grasped both of Count Bleck's shoulders and forced him to sit down at the nearest table, then took off running. He grabbed a tray of meat pies and quickly threw them down in front of the startled count. 

"I just came here for a quick bite-" the count started when Dimentio took out a rag and started dusting off the pies he placed in front of him. Count Bleck covered his nose to hold in a sneeze from the concerning amount of dust that had covered the food. Meanwhile, Dimentio picked what looked to be a rusting screw out of the meal and tossed it behind him. 

"Don't mind that," Dimentio laughed when he noticed something black crawling over the pies. He quickly brought his hand down on it, squishing whatever it had been and making a big mess. He checked his hand, then cringed upon seeing whatever it was he had crushed. "Would you like a drink, sir? Some wine? Water? Chocolate milk?!"

Count Bleck, slightly disgusted, quietly told him water would be fine. Before the word had fully left his mouth, the jester had placed a cup of brownish-yellow liquid before him.

"The worst water in Flopside to go with the worst pies," Dimentio smiled. 

"The worst pies?" Count Bleck asked.

"Yes," Dimentio smiled, sitting down across from the count and grinning. "Why, no one with their right mind comes here for the pies. I should know, I make them. What, you don't believe me? Go on, take a bite!"

Count Bleck paused, his eyes fixed on the smallest pie in front of him. With a mixture of caution and curiosity, he slowly took a bite. Instantly, a wave of revulsion washed over him, causing him to gag and clutch his chest in an attempt to suppress the urge to vomit. 

"See? Isn't that just disgusting?" the jester chuckled, his laughter echoing through the dimly lit room. Count Bleck couldn't help but agree, the taste of the pie lingering on his tongue like a bitter reminder.

"Why do they taste like that?!" Count Bleck gagged, his face paling slightly. He was worried he had just gotten food poisoning or something of the sort. 

"Oh, you know, with the price of meat these days, it's hard to keep up," Dimentio chuckled, standing up and grabbing a handful of dough. He placed it on one of the tables, then began slamming his hands onto it to flatten it out. "O'Chunks has a pie shop down the street. He gets some customers, but they don't know what I know. They're not smart enough."

"Don't know what?" Count Bleck questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

"Well, lately all his neighbors' cats have been disappearing," Dimentio chuckled, his voice completely calm and casual. "You have to hand it to him, though. Real smart, that is. But I wouldn't do it here. No, it's sickening to even think of, don't you think? Plus, those cats are real quick." 

The jester's laughter echoed through the dimly lit room, sending a shiver down Count Bleck's spine. The mention of the missing cats painted a disturbing picture in his mind.

Dimentio then looked at Count Bleck, who was still struggling to finish the bite he had taken. 

"Oh, go on, spit it out," Dimentio urged. "Go on. On the floor. There are worse things that have been down there. Don't judge. Times are real hard."

Count Bleck didn't like the sound of that but spat it out anyway. There was no way he could finish that bite. He shook his head, then wiped his mouth off and looked out the window, at the metal staircase. 

"If times are so hard, why don't you rent out that room? That ought to bring in something." Count Bleck suggested between gags from the sour taste the pie left in his mouth. 

"Up there?" Dimentio asked, looking up. He quietly chuckled, then looked down and shook his head. "Oh, no, no, people won't go anywhere near it. They all think it's haunted..." 

"Oh, really?" Count Bleck asked tiredly.

"Yes," Dimentio nodded with wide eyes. "You see... many years back, something happened there. Something not very nice..."

Count Bleck rolled his eyes, then nodded, signaling Dimentio to go on and tell the story. He already knew the tale well, but he could tell that Dimentio wanted to talk. People in Flopside were big fans of drama.

"There was this sorcerer and his wife," Dimentio explained. "And he was powerful. A real artist when it came to magic. But... he was sent away for life. Blumiere, his name was. Blumiere, and his wife Timpani."

"Right. And what was this sorcerer sent away for?" Count Bleck breathed.

"For having black magic, of course!" Dimentio chuckled.

Dark magic, Count Bleck wanted to correct, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Black magic, and foolishness. His wife, poor thing, caught the eye of many people. Powerful people. People more powerful than he. So, they shipped the sorcerer away, leaving her on her own with her grief and their two adopted children."

"And their names?" Count Bleck asked. "What were their names?"

Dimentio chuckled, then looked at the ceiling as if thinking it over.

"Olivia..." he answered. "Olivia and Olly."

Count Bleck's heart skipped a beat as the names rolled off Dimentio's tongue.

The jester fell silent for a moment, taking a purposely long pause as Count Bleck waited, his good eye twitching slightly. "Go on," the count begged, his voice filled with a mix of urgency and anticipation.

Dimentio looked at the man, then smirked slightly and kept beating the dough in front of him.

"My, my, you do like a good story, don't you, Count Bleck," he teased.

Count Bleck frowned, his brow furrowing with uncertainty. Did he ever reveal his name to Dimentio? The memory seemed to slip through the cracks of his mind.

"Just go on. What happened to the wife? Go on!" Count Bleck demanded.

"Alright, alright, well... the judge who sent her husband away commanded she come to his place up in Flipside. She went, with hopes that he'd bring her husband back, but things didn't go as planned... he locked her away with him, refusing to let go. She cried for help, she screamed for her hero to come save her, but all who heard her cries refused to come to her aid. All heard her, but no one came. She cried day in and day out, locking in that room, convinced that her husband would return by spring-"

"Would not one soul help her?!" Count Bleck suddenly cried, his voice filled with anguish and frustration.  In a fit of anger and desperation, he stood up abruptly, his fist crashing down upon the table in front of him.

"AHA!" Dimentio laughed victoriously, pointing at the count and grinning. "So it is you, Blumiere!"

"NO!" Count Bleck yelled, suddenly emotional. He covered his face, shaking his head vigorously. "No, not Blumiere! NOT BLUMIERE! It's Bleck! Count Bleck! Where is she?!" he pleaded, his heart pounding with worry.

"You're so different! So changed!" Dimentio cried out, holding his arms out and grinning. "What, did they have you shipped down to the Dark Lands or something?!"

"Where's my wife?!" Bleck desperately cried once again, his voice breaking slightly. "Where's Timpani?!"

Dimentio seemed to pause, his smile twitching just barely as Count Bleck waited for an answer, trembling now. The silence hung in the air, thick with tension.

"...She poisoned herself," Dimentio finally answered, his voice smaller, though his smile didn't fade. "I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen."

Count Bleck felt his heart stop. The air surrounding him grew colder. His heart sank, his mind racing to comprehend what he had just heard. The room fell into a somber silence as the count grappled with the realization.

Count Bleck felt an overwhelming mix of devastation and numbness. It was as if his heart had been shattered into a million pieces, yet he couldn't feel anything at all. Deep down, a part of him had already come to terms with the fact that he would never lay eyes on her again. He had accepted it when he was first banished. However, the flicker of hope, the possibility of reuniting with her, had been his driving force. And now, that flicker had been extinguished, leaving him with nothing.

"And..." Count Bleck whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "And my children?"

"He's got them," Dimentio answered. 

Count Bleck's heart sank even further. 

"He? The judge? Merlon?" Count Bleck asked, though it wasn't really a question. 

"He practically adopted them like they were his own," Dimentio stated. "They got lucky, really."

Lucky? Was that what it was? Luck?!

Count Bleck shook his head. Fifteen years. He spent fifteen years, sweating and working. Fifteen years, dreaming of coming home to a loving wife and two children, all for nothing!

"He's as good as DEAD," Count Bleck hissed, his voice dripping with venomous anger. Slamming his fist down on the table once again, his numbness transformed into a raging fire. 

Dimentio remained unresponsive for a moment, then burst out laughing. His laughter echoed through the room, filling the air with a contagious energy. It was as if he had heard the most amusing joke in the world.

"Oh, you're going to get him, are you?" Dimentio teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You? The little nobody runaway convict? You'd never be able to pull off killing Merlon himself. Not in a million years."

Count Bleck didn't react. His face remained stoic, betraying no emotion.

"Hey, you got any money?" Dimentio asked.

Count Bleck remained unresponsive.

"Um, I asked if you have any money," Dimentio repeated. He snapped his fingers in front of the count's face, trying to grab his attention.

Count Bleck frowned, then shook his head, which in turn made Dimentio laugh even harder.

"Then how are you even going to survive out here?!" the jester asked.

"Oh, I'll live," Count Bleck hissed, clenching his fists slightly and lowering his tone. "I don't care what it takes. I'll live. And I'll kill him."

Dimentio kept on laughing at the thought of this scrawny, filthy, and beaten-down man going on a vengeful rampage. 

Then, as if a light bulb went off in his head, he abruptly straightened up and asked Count Bleck to wait for a moment. Without hesitation, Dimentio dashed out the back. Count Bleck, intrigued by the sudden change, stayed put. It wasn't like he had any place to go. 

A moment later, the jester came back holding a large staff with a blue gem at the top. Count Bleck's eyes widened in recognition. It was his staff, the very same one he used to wield when Timpani was by his side.

"When everything happened all those years ago and your little home was cleared out, I snuck in and quickly grabbed this. You know, just in case something happened and you needed it back," Dimentio chuckled. "Perhaps you can be a sorcerer again. Or become a psychic or something. Make some money off of it! People love that kind of stuff, so long as black magic isn't involved-"

"Dark magic," Count Bleck quietly corrected, taking the staff in his right hand and looking down at it. He felt a surge of purpose as his hand grasped the familiar wooden handle. It was like reuniting with an old friend. The gem atop the staff sparkled and shimmered in the moonlight, casting a mesmerizing glow that filled the room.

He looked at it longingly, the staff representing a cherished connection to his past. It was more than just an object; it was his faithful friend, a constant companion that had endured the test of time. Like him, the staff had been locked away for years, waiting for this moment of reunion. Count Bleck's heart swelled with anticipation as he imagined the wonders they could accomplish together.

He gripped it tightly, feeling a surge of power coursing through his veins. With the staff held high in front of him, Count Bleck reveled in the sense of completion. At long last, his right arm was whole again.

"My friend," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and nostalgia.

"I'm your friend too," Dimentio whispered from behind him, his voice filled with a mischievous yet comforting tone. "Why, I'm the one who kept it all these years. Perhaps if we work together, we can-"

But Count Bleck wasn't listening. His mind was consumed by the possibilities that lay ahead, entranced by the potential of what he and his staff could achieve together. The allure of newfound power and the chance to reshape their destiny overshadowed any other voice that tried to break through.