The Twilight Zone...and a Bill Murray reference.

It is something like if you see a minotaur and a skeleton put together in a dark hallway facing you, and you were just lost on your way to the bathroom. It's something like that. And you're standing there staring at them, lost in some rambling pointless train of thought, when they've obviously got some more legitimate reason to be there. There's nothing to do with any kind of threat. I mean, they're just standing there, after all. But they're wearing business suits, for fuck's sake. The fuckers are obviously here for something important, but it couldn't be for you. YOU are on your way to the bathroom. YOU are just out at the club. YOU are just out having a good time, and YOU have never done anything worth having mythical creatures spring to life out of nowhere. No, they're not here for you. You just came in at the wrong time. But you're here now, and you can't seem to locate the hallway you came in at. You seem to be in a one lane, one-person corridor with these two guys standing in your way staring you down. It's not like you can just say nothing to them. You could just turn around and walk away. But a moment like this deserves some kind of acknowledgement. This shit doesn't happen every day.

"Sorry guys." You say. 

"Wrong turn." You say.

The minotaur nods his head, it's ponderous weight seeming to tip forward and back precariously like a big, furry boulder.

The skeleton doesn't move, but you think you hear a faint clicking sound coming from somewhere in the suit.

You turn around.

You start walking, and you don't stop.

Keep it cool, keep it casual. That wasn't strange. That was just a...thing that happens sometimes. That was just...that was just a thing.

Yeah.

Nothing but a thing, nothing to do with you.

You keep walking.

But that hallway stretches on and on, in one line- no lefts, no rights. Just red brick walls, dim lighting, and a cement floor, greenish in the fluorescence.

It starts to curve. You don't remember a curve, but you don't remember walking this far.

"Am I drunk?" You ask yourself.

You don't remember having a drink.

Last thing you remember, you were inside the club. You'd just ordered a drink, but they were overpriced and taking forever.

"Who'd you come here with, buddy?"

Your feet have stopped, and you're stuck staring at your shoes. Without realizing it, you find yourself in a blocked passage.

It's them. Again.

The skeleton was on the other side, you're sure of it. They've switched places, like you came at them from the opposite direction.

It was the minotaur who had asked the question.

"uuuhh...Nobody. Sorry"

He grunts.

You turn around again, walking faster. You're lost. You know you're lost. But there were no turns. That hallway was a straight line.

Who DID you come here with?

Now you're not sure.

You were waiting for the drinks, and you were there with someone...

They were your friends, right?

Why can't you remember their names?

There was a girl. A pretty girl. You thought she was flirting with you, but you also thought it was just to get a free drink. She was certainly watching the bartender like a hawk. But she also gave you her number on a business card.

Were you roofied?

By a chick?

By a chick with a business card?

Is that what just happened?

You look up from the cement at your feet.

And sure enough, there they are again.

"Am I hallucinating?"

The minotaur looks at you. His eyes are huge. You've never seen a cow up close, let alone a bull. You were prepared for the horns and the fur and the general shape of the face.

But not the eyes.

Not the size.

The longer you look at him, the bigger he seems to get. His shoulder is touching the wall on one side, and pushing against the skeleton on the other.

You were also not prepared for the skeleton, but at least you recognize what he is. You've seen skeletons before.

Not minotaurs. Those aren't real.

"Are you a hallucination?" You ask again.

The bull head swivels- it seems so...unsteady on that body, attached to that neck. He looks at the skeleton, who cranes his pencil thin neck to look up. How is he even doing that? There aren't any muscles to make that happen. But he does, so it must be happening somehow.

"He thinks he's dreaming," the minotaur says to the skeleton.

The skeleton clicks back.

The minotaur translates for you. "He says that's ridiculous." 

The 'that's ridiculous' slows down and seems to echo in more sinister tones, bouncing onwards down the hall. And the voice is like you'd expect a bull to sound. Deep, like he's speaking for an opera house.

It echoes. If you reached out fast enough, you're pretty sure you could touch one of the sound waves, or feel the vibrations in the brick.

You look behind them, craning you neck to see. There's no space around the minotaur. That guy is like a brick wall. But there's a gap between the skeleton's chin and his shoulder where you can see through.

"Is that a door behind you?"

The minotaur looks away from the skeleton back at you. His movements like a puppet, only the puppeteer can only move one piece at a time. The eyes focus on you, first, and then the head swivels to follow them.

"No."

But he's wrong. You can see a doorknob behind him. You know it.

"Yes it is. That's a door."

There is a silence.

"Let me through. I've got no reason to be here. I was just....I was just looking for the bathroom guys."

Your voice sounds weak and whiney off of the brick.

The skeleton clicks some kind of boney morse code.

The minotaur translates for you.

"You should turn around. And go back."

"Well I tried that, but you're there, too."

"Well try again."

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

The skeleton clicks rapidly, it's head twitching in unison with the clicks. It takes a step forward, and outstretches its arms, its fingers waving like tendrils of seaweed underwater. The minotaur stretches an arm out in front of it, pushing him back.

"Hey- hey. No. This guy's just lost," he says, and then turns back to you. "Sorry. He's had a hard day. But you should just go back where you came from. We're not here to meet you."

"I've tried! There's no- " a whistling breeze hits you. It smells like stale linoleum and urine. You look towards it.

There's a hall.

"Oh."

You look back at the pair.

"Sorry to have bothered you."

They nod.

"Have a good night."

You turn and walk down the hall. It's black and cold, and not at all the same hallway as the red brick from earlier, but it's away from those two. Dimly, you can hear the sound of club music and voices. You keep walking forward, one hand waving in front of you in the dim light, one hand on the wall, trying to avoid hitting something you can't see while you're eyes adjust.

But of course, your foot hits a cardboard box, and you trip.

Next thing you know, you're down, an empty shoebox tangled between your feet, a pile of other boxes next to you, and light coming from either side of you. You're hands sting from where they've hit the cement, your knee starts to ache. There'll probably be a bruise later.

Fuck boxes, and this club.

You've had enough for one night.

You kick the box backwards, towards the dark hallway you came through.

It hits a wall painted black and bounces back, overturned.

A couple of girls come down the hallway, covered in glitter with those dresses that seem to be made of nothing but sequins. Arm in arm, they teeter on heels like horse hooves, giggling. But when they see you, they go quiet and put their eyes to the ground, avoiding the lone man with his back to the wall next to the recycling bin.

Trying not to be the stalker stranger they obviously think you are, you follow them. They're not hard to follow. Their heels are like castanets echoing off the wall, and their clothes are like signal flares. But as they walk, the club music just gets louder, and in a few feet, the thumping bass drowns out everything but itself. The hallway becomes crowded with people going to and from the bathrooms, and to and from the entrances. You have to jostle people to get through, but when you pop out of the hallways, the club opens up around you.

It's dark blue black highlighted with the mixture of fifty different colored lights strobing at the same time. You get your bearings. You and the girl were sitting next to the bar, waiting on those damn drinks.

There she is, a blonde in a skirt that's too short, and a baggy t-shirt that looks like she altered it with scissors that afternoon. You make your way towards her and sit down. There's the beer you paid ten dollars for sitting on the table across from her, sweating green red and orange in the lights.

She takes a sip from the cocktail that you're not sure if you bought her anymore, and looks over the rim at you, then she sets the drink down.

"You were gone a long time."

You shrug and look down at your beer. You really want to drink the entire thing as fast as you can. Would that be impolite? Does it matter? You just met her and she's obviously just using you so she can get free dr-

A hand comes into your field of vision, resting on the table next to your drink, grabbing your attention. 

You look up.

"No one will ever believe you," she says with a smile.