This is part 11 of Todd’s story.

—
Cast the calming apple
Up and over satellites
To draw out the timid wild one
To convince you it’s alright
And I listen for the whisper
Of your sweet insanity while I formulate
Denials of your affect on me
– A Perfect Circle, “A Stranger”
—
Todd, against every instinct in his being, opened the front door. Behind Dr. Celestine stood his armor-plated brother. “Good morning, Todd. How good to finally meet you in the flesh, so to speak.” The doctor smiled broadly, and swept a bow. This was nearly too surreal to handle. “May we come in?”

Something clicked inside of Todd, and he realized that this was his home, and he was still in control here. “Of course. It’s a mess, but I doubt you’ll mind.” Todd mentioned them to the library. The one with the armor half-nodded, half-bowed as he entered the building.

Todd walked with them to the library, which now housed three chairs. Todd sat in the overstuffed one, and the other two took the guest chairs. An odd sense of calm had settled over him. He felt much older than either the hat or the cigar had made him feel. He offered a Nat Sherman to Dr. Celestine, and a Helix cigar to his brother, completely operating on instinct. Both accepted. He lit both of them, then leaned back in the overstuffed chair. He puffed on his own cigar, then asked, “So, now what?”

Dr. Celestine exploded into laughter. It seemed to shake its way out of him. When it finally passed, he wiped a tear from his eye. “Let us begin with introductions. My name is Celestine, and I am the proprietor – and owner – of a carnival. But I suspect you already knew that. This man is Mr. Weaver; he runs the rides at my carnival.” The armored man nodded.

“Dr. Celestine’s Carnival of Souls,” Todd whispered.

“Ah, yes, so you’ve heard of us. Well, you would have, if you are now in possession of Ralph’s house.” The ceiling made a thunk noise, as if something heavy had impacted it. They all looked up for a moment, and then back at each other. “How exactly did that happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Todd took his cigar out of his mouth and stared at it. “He left all of it to me, in his will. I hate that it makes me a vulture, and I hate that I suddenly have no idea who Ralph really was. All of this is way more than someone like me should have to deal with, right? It’s just all so overwhelming.”

Dr. Celestine nodded. “Just so.” Another noise from upstairs raised their eyes. Just what were Sheila and Thunk doing up there? Directly above them was the guest room.

Mr. Weaver stood up. “If you two don’t mind, I’m going to check that out.” Both Todd and Dr. Celestine nodded, despite Todd’s irrational concern for their lives. He did a double-take at Mr. Weaver as he left. It looked like he had tons of tiny metal spiders pinned to the hem of his coat. They nearly scraped the hardwood floors. Mr. Weaver calmly ascended the staircase, as if none of this was out of the ordinary.

Dr. Celestine finished his cigarette, and put it out in the ash tray. “I’m not here to hurt you, Todd, at least not directly. I am here because I intend on continuing to exist, in this form, or one very close to it. I like to size up my competition.”

Todd nodded, as if he understood, which he sure as shit did not. There was a whispering near his hear, and Todd whipped around in his chair, and then back to Dr. Celestine. “Problem?” Todd found himself nodding. He was suddenly very sure that he did not want Mr. Weaver to return down the stairs. He was definitely sure that he didn’t want to know what Sheila and Thunk had been doing. Despite his most pleading hopes, the stairs began to creak with enormous weight. Mr. Weaver’s boots. The hem of Mr. Weaver’s coat, now missing the spider pins. The dangling, struggling feet of Thunk, and then of Sheila.

Mr. Weaver brought them downstairs. HE was holding each by their neck, and they were struggling uselessly. Earlier, normal, flesh-colored hands had just poked out of the cuffs of his coat. Now, giant metal girder constructs vaguely shaped like hands thrust out and held his friends high. His friends, who in their struggling, admitted their betrayal. Sheila’s hands were wrapped around Mr. Weaver’s, trying to pry them free. She hadn’t bothered to try and hide that she was completely topless.

The anger, hurt, odd arousal, and strangeness overwhelmed Todd. His face drained completely of color. Dr. Celestine sat watching him. Sizing up his competition. “Mr. Weaver, please let go of my friends.” He did, and they dropped to the floor, gasping. Sheila covered her breasts with her arms, and began to sob. Todd looked back to Mr. Weaver, whose hands were normal, and whose coat had spider pins lining the sleeves. “Thank you.”

Todd turned to Dr. Celestine and offered him another Nat Sherman. He accepted, and began to pat himself down for a light. “Now get out.” Todd pointed at the door, and it swung open.

Dr. Celestine swept a fancy bow, then took his leave. Mr. Weaver followed without a word. Outside on the porch, Celestine remarked to Weaver, “And this is why I keep telling you that friends are over-rated. If not for friends, I would know where Molly was, and we’d have proper transportation.”
—
I’ve felt the hate rise up in me…
Kneel down and clear the stone of leaves…
I wander out where you can’t see…
Inside my shell, I wait and bleed…
– Slipknot, “Wait and Bleed”