[b]DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR.

DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR.

DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR.

DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR.

DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR.[/b]

The Joxter twitched a bit. 

[b]DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR.[/b]

[i]Strange thing about that,[/i] but back in the formative years of his childhood, Mr. Joxter had had a few terrible experiences with authority figures. Not only did they not understand the [i]sanctity[/i] of an open door and an unlocked gate, but they didn't understand the difference between the right to privacy and the violation to nature that is private property.

Frankly--this is a shocker--being shown that the world didn't trust a five year old boy taught that five year old boy that he couldn't be trusted, and therefore must live up to that standard. He [i]loathed[/i] closed doors and locked gates. Money meant nothing to him. He was fickle and always contrary and there wasn't much that could be done about it; he was going to do what he was going to do and that was that.

[i]And this goddamn door would not mark the first time in his life he'd obeyed a petty sign.[/i] He had a reputation to keep up with.

"Well, you're wrong about that one, dear friend. That makes one more door that [i]must[/i] be opened." 

He opened the door.
[center]---[/center]
[i]It took but a little touch for the door to creak inward, bright, white light peering out from behind the widening gap. With it came a cold wind and the smell of rusted metal and old factory--a wind gentle enough to caress the clothes and hair of the two who stood nearest the door and dance around the room in big, fluid motions, but powerful enough to grab the attention of a busy mind.

It was the calming sort of breeze that you'd meet in late spring. It wasn't uncomfortably cold, or harsh, but enough to make you look around at the milkweed and ponder existence. In any other setting, it would've been a reassuring godsend that things had a way of working out, but here it just felt like a lie. An ominous, sickening attempt to create a false sense of security. 

Maybe the Host knew that they were smart enough to understand that. Maybe he wanted to let them know that he was intending to catch them off guard, to instill more fear than necessary. He seemed to have an ego.

The door opened wider, ever so slowly. Each second passed like a minute. When it only a quarter of the way open, half the theater had already been engulfed in a harsh light. The other half were corners that stood out as jagged, exaggerated shadows. 

When it was half of the way open, those closest to the door were forced to look away. 

When it was nearly open, you could almost hear the cliche "Ahhhhs" of the choir announce the second-coming of Christ and the see the Disney fireworks overhead. All was well in the world! Praise Zeus!

When it was at last open, [i]the build-up was dropped like an anvil[/i] and the ridiculously dramatic lighting flickered a few times before dimming to the cheap, florescent glow of a DIY home & yard depot. The choir stammered and the "Aaahs" dropped into a confused mumbling of "Eeeeeh?"'s and "Urrr"'s. The Disney fireworks went haywire and ran into the ground before exploding all over a family of six. Those who had been forced to look away looked up in confusion. The breeze felt a lot more like air conditioning, now...[/i]

[hider=Click to see inside the door.]
[i]If one were to look inside, the anticlimactic end to a near-celestial experience would be made up for in a heart beat. 

If you've ever seen the sea, imagine me this: you're looking at a storage unit in the back of any old department store. The shelves are big--car-sized big--and they're all crammed with open VHS tapes and DVDs. Literally, there's nothing else. 

Alright, [i]now[/i] imagine that you take this storage area and tile it a thousand fold in any which direction. Imagine that the walls are so far apart from each other that if you were to face the inside of the unit and glance anywhere but behind you, you would be able to see the the ragged dip of shelving to cement floor to shelving extend far enough to become a smooth line and disappear with the horizon. Imagine a storage unit that had no foreseeable end. 

That's what the build up was about. [/i]
[/hider]
[center]---[/center] 

"Uh...you fellows interested in looking at something?" The Joxter shouted, but he knew that whatever he'd just done had got their attention anyways.

At least he wasn't dead. Yet.