Only, when Crispin turned around, he was….Oh God.“What did you put in my Zima?”Leopold knew his voice was shrill, but being unwittingly drugged was bad.And it was especially bad for him, because he’d long since learned that if he ingested anything more intoxicating than half a bottle of beer,very bad thingshappened.The sorts of things that involved flashing red-and-blue lights, hyperventilating insurance adjustors, and the need for Leopold to pick up quickly and move far way.
Maybe he ought to be relieved that the only effects this time—so far, at least—were hallucinations of a purple forest and of Crispin turning into a deer.A deer in tweed trousers.
“Oh, crap.”Crispin slapped a hand over his mouth.
Leopold stalked closer.“Oh crapis right.What thehell, dude?You don’t just go around slipping drugs to strangers.What did you give me and when is it gonna wear off?”
“I didnotdrug you.”Crispin managed to look simultaneously offended, distressed, and confused.He somehow also managed to still look like Crispin, even with brown fur, a long muzzle, and short velvety antlers.His ears were even longer and pointier than before.
“Nobody gets this wasted on half a Zima.Not even….”Leopold’s thought trailed away when he realized how odd his mouth felt.His tongue and teeth were all… wrong.Damn that word.
And then there was the strange tickly feeling on his skin.He glanced down; his t-shirt was gone.His chest, like Crispin’s, was now covered in short fur.Maybe he should be relieved he hadn’t hallucinated away his sweatpants and socks.
His scalp didn’t feel right either, however.When he put his hand to his forehead, he felt antlers.“This is bad,” he moaned.“I don’t want to be a deer.”Deer in the woods usually got shot.Would the hunters have purple guns?
“You are not a deer.You have—well, we both have—temporarily taken the form of piwati, an endemic sentient species in Vlotho.Which is, I assume, where we have landed, although I don’t understand why.I visited here once before to collect a rather interesting flower.It had the most delicate teeth….”
Leopold decided there was no point in continuing this conversation.He sat down on the grass, which was the precise shade of grape Kool-Aid, and waited to sober up.The grass was pleasantly soft, at any rate, and it smelled really nice.Like a bakery or a pan of sizzling bacon, only not.While Crispin returned to talking into his phone, Leopold plucked a blade of grass and stuck it on his tongue.
Yum!He took another piece, and another, and was considering getting on all fours and grazing properly—until it occurred to him to wonder what he wasactuallyputting in his mouth, back in his non-delusional apartment.None of the options seemed good, so he sighed and stopped eating.
It wasn’t a horrible trip, as these things went.The weather was pleasant and the foliage interesting.Some of the trees had leaves that reminded him of the amethyst ring one of his foster mothers had worn.Maybe when he got a second job and saved a bit of money, he should paint his bedroom walls that color.The landlord probably wouldn’t mind, and anyway, Leopold’s damage deposit was a lost cause after the Great Spaghetti Sauce Eruption of last month.
Crispin trudged over and folded elegantly to the ground in front of Leopold.“I’m having a bit of difficulty,” Crispin admitted.
“Did you take the drugs too?”
“I don’t know what— There are no drugs.We are both quite sober.But I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a pickle.”
Leopold chuckled.“Then everything would be green instead of purple, wouldn’t it?Unless it’s a purple pickle.Which sounds like a tongue-twister.Or bad porn.”He laughed again.
“Please be serious.This is not a good occasion for joking.”Hands on furry hips signaled Crispin’s disapproval.
“Right.’Cause everyone ought to take delirium seriously.”
Crispin sighed.“This is reality.I attempted to collect you, as I was sent to do.But there was some kind of… of accident.”Crispin shuddered.“So instead of returning to the Hall of Mirrors at OotL, we’ve ended up in Vlotho.And the portal isn’t working properly.”He tapped the phone, which he still held in one hand.The glass was cracked.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”Leopold was starting to wonder if this Crispin character was a bitwoo-wooin the head.
“It’s quite simple.I am a curator.As I mentioned before, I collect items—or, um, sometimes people—for the Office of the Lost.I have been instructed to collect you.”
Leopold decided to humor him.Why not?He had nothing better to do right now, and that grass was looking mighty tasty.“Collect me for what?And what’s this office thing?A government agency?’Cause if Sacramento has some kind of bizarre tax or something, I’m sorry I didn’t pay, but I didn’t know anything about it.And now I can’t pay on account of being broke.”
While Crispin paused, apparently deciding how to answer—or as Leopold’s hallucination struggled to keep up with real-time events—birds twittered prettily.There was just enough breeze to make the grass ripple and leaves sway, and the temperature was nearly perfect.Off in the distance a dog howled, but here everything was peaceful.This was better than getting rained on or flipping channels in his apartment.No wonder people took drugs.
“The Office of the Lost,” Crispin began in an instructional tone, “is in a place outside of worlds, yet simultaneously inside them.The Hall of Mirrors is the nexus that joins realities together.”
“A hub.Sure.Like O’Hare.”
Crispin blinked at him for a moment as if confused and then shrugged.“I don’t know this O’Hare world, but yes.A hub.That makes us quite important, you see.”He puffed up his chest slightly.“And the hub contains the Office of the Lost, which is where I’m employed.Our function is to collect and protect items that, while they may seem insignificant, are in fact crucial to the successful conclusion of certain events.The Oracle sends us out to find them.For example, last month I traveled to Hbrthnot and acquired the last remaining copy of the autobiography of Queen Thragell the Fourteenth.Our oracle has foretold that the volume will one day be indispensable to?—”
Leopold frowned, which felt weird with his extended jaw.“I’m not anitem.I’m a person.”
“Yes.Well.”Crispin reached as if he intended to straighten his tie, but all he had on his chest was fur and he let his hand fall.“Occasionally we’re sent to collect living… specimens.From your world we have a pair of passenger pigeons, which are quite simple to care for, and also a pair of woolly mammoths, which require a very big room and regular manure removal.And I’m afraid that if I don’t bring you in promptly, my next assignment will be cleaning up after them.”
He looked upset and Leopold was tempted to console him, but he didn’t because none of this was real.
Anyway, woolly mammoth shit wasn’t the issue here.“Fine.You collect stuff.But why me?”Because Leopold suddenly remembered that when Crispin had first showed up at the door, he’d asked for Leopold by name, which meant he hadn’t just wandered there randomly.Plus he’d had that sucky photo of Leopold on his phone.And that was weird, because the only ones who knew where Leopold lived were his bosses, his landlord, and his neighbors.In fact, the entire rest of the world was pretty much blissfully unaware of his existence.
