Conversation · Horrific Necktie

Bratan, now is the time!

Time for what?

Oh... you will see. (It feels like the tie is rubbing itself against your chest like a cat in heat.)

First, the spirits -- the blue medicinal spirits. Grab the bottle and uncork it! It is time to unleash the Other-World.

Wait, right now? A woman just died and you think now is a good time to party?

Bratan, life and death are inseparable. There's a party when you're born, a party every year to celebrate that birth, and a party when you're put in the ground.

Yeah... what's the problem here?

Why shouldn't there be a party when you die? And, beside, this isn't even about that! You have no idea what this is about... this is gonna be so off the hook. It's gonna be off all hooks.

You know what, I'm done with this crazy talking necktie bullshit!

But, bratan... no. Please uncork it. I can make it good again.

Necktie, you and I are done. Both professionally -- and as friends. Begone! (End the tie.)

The lifeless necktie looks like a colourful intestine of some dead animal: oily, alien and otherwise disgusting. What could have driven a man to wear something so repulsive around his neck?

Seems you'll never learn the answer to that question.

Slowly uncork the blue medicinal spirit.

The bottle opens with a silent, mysterious hiss. The fumes rising from its mouth are as crisp as the northern winds.

Howling somewhere, lashing the boardwalk with brine and rain -- an ancient warmth crawls under your skin.

Now, bratan, take me off.

What? I didn't know I could do that...

Bratan, have I ever lied to you? Just take me off. (The necktie tugs encouragingly at your neck.)

Take the necktie off.

Your fingers manage to undo the oily knot and the necktie slides off. It looks so frail sitting there in your hand, weighing almost nothing.

Now what?

Now put me in the bottle.

Begone, foul necktie! Finally I rid myself of you! (End it. Throw the necktie as far as you can.)

The oily rag flaps miserably in the air and lands close by in the dirt. It looks like an inanimate object, completely devoid of life.

It was just trying to help....

Put the necktie tie in the bottle.

As the necktie slides into the purifying liquid, large stains of grease rise off from it and float to the surface. There they quickly dissolve and disappear completely.

Cleansed by the blue spirit-fire of 98.7% pure alcohol, the fabric looks almost new again. No longer like a disgusting worm of the lower intestine, but like a colourful and deadly poisonous reef-snake of the Insulindian ocean.

So... what next?

The necktie floats in the blueish liquid with almost unearthly grace.

It's like an organic sample brought back from a distant star system inhabited by sentient neckwear.

Cork the bottle and put it away.

The lieutenant has been observing you quietly all this time.

He's struggling to keep silent, but finally seems to give up.

"I've got to ask..." he says, a peculiar look in his eyes. "What are you doing?"

As always -- lie.

"Okay, Kim... I didn't want to tell anyone, but my necktie has been talking to me lately."

"Of course it has." He doesn't even look too surprised.

"It started when I woke up in the Whirling-in-Rags. It's been talking to me ever since."

"And what has the necktie been telling you, if I may ask?"

"Signs of some really hard core mental illness, Kim." (Point to your head.)

"I would assume, yes. Why did you put it in the bottle?"

"Why not, lieutenant?"

"Right. Okay. Anyway, I'm glad you told me your necktie has been speaking to you. That must not have been easy." For a second it looks like he's about to add something...

We're all under stress. This is turning into a great big mess. I'm not judging. Just keep it together.

...but then he turns away -- his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "Let's go," he concludes.

"I simply don't know."

"Because it told me to."

"It teaches me about life, Kim. Sort of a father figure."

"Okay. So why did you put it in the bottle?"

"It mostly urges me to party harder."

"Wonderful. Very useful."

He doesn't actually believe it's wonderful.

"We're buds. Mostly just goofing around."

"Forget it, you're not open-minded enough to understand anyway."

"A relationship between a man and a talking necktie? No, apparently I am not." His voice rings of insincere sadness as he turns to leave.

"I don't really know, but I'm eager to find out."

"That makes two of us." He shakes his head slowly. "Let's not waste any more time under this boardwalk. We need to clear this all up... somehow."

"In my family, you put a piece of clothing in some hard liquor and drink it for good luck. It's silly, but no harm done, right?"