The Mask That Always Smiles

Opening the window allowed a refreshing breeze to waft inside as I peered out. Beyond the window lay a familiar stretch of road, undoubtedly part of my street. My view was partially obstructed by lush vegetation flourishing in the garden below, making it difficult to pinpoint the exact house I was in. Intriguingly, I couldn't recall recognising this particular garden before, leading me to believe it didn't belong to anyone I knew.

I continued observing the outside area when I felt a gentle tingling wetness at the bottom of my right foot. I pondered whether I'd stepped in something or if there was some sort of water leak. To steady myself, I readjusted my hands, positioned on the windowsill, to maintain my balance. I looked down and saw a Cocker Spaniel standing with two paws on the bath rim, enthusiastically licking my right foot. The dog had such a friendly, welcoming demeanour. As I stepped down from the bath, it emitted playful growls and barks towards me.

The dog eagerly awaited my next move. The friendly doggy paced around in circles, wagging its tail at a fast, steady pace, resembling the pendulum of an old grandfather clock. Its happiness at seeing someone was evident. Perhaps the dog spent most of its time cooped up in this house, with limited interaction with the outside world. It seemed genuinely thrilled to have Lillian's company. With a deep, throaty growl that echoed its excitement, the dog began scraping its paws against the floor in anticipation. I had to act quickly before the dog created any more noise, potentially alerting anyone who might be in the house. The identity and intentions of the occupants remain unknown. There I stood, a complete stranger, clad only in a towel with damp hair, finding myself in the confines of an unfamiliar home. How would I ever explain this situation without it turning into a profoundly awkward moment? I had to find a way to surreptitiously leave without being noticed. Glancing around, I noticed the bathroom door slightly ajar, where the Cocker Spaniel had entered the room. The canine let out a sudden bark that sprayed saliva, with little wet drops hitting the side of my arm.

It's not like I am afraid of dogs or dislike them; quite the opposite. I think dogs are some of the most wonderful and amazing animals in the world. I am a big proponent of pugs and French Bulldogs. I mean, Larisa blurted out "French Bulldog" when we were creating a cake. The French Bulldog cake we made was super cute, just not too great in the taste department. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if Larisa shared the same affection for this dog breed as I did. It's quite possible she does, or perhaps she somehow sensed my love for them.

I cautiously extended my hand to pat the dog on its head, feeling a bit uneasy being alone in this unfamiliar house. The dog seemed restless, constantly moving its head, which made me nervous to approach. I worried that my slightly long and sharp nails might accidentally poke it, leading it to retaliate with a bite. As I reached out to pat the dog on its head, it licked my hand before I could fully touch it. This unexpected moment made me let out a soft giggle, and I felt a tingle inside.

I halted and listened to see if I had just alerted anyone in the house with that sound. I held my breath, listening for movement in the house. Nothing. With caution, I started walking towards the bathroom door, and the dog excitedly followed, dancing around me. As I took slow steps towards the doorway, the dog continued to follow, and I periodically patted its head to keep it quiet.

I gracefully readjusted my towel, taking a deep breath as I navigated through the slender opening of the door, ensuring not to widen it any further to avoid any potential creaking noises. The narrow gap proved just enough for me to slip through.

Walking on a worn, rough carpet that offered no comfort to my bare feet, its texture feeling oddly sharp due to years of use, the canine followed me and jumped in front of me again. I could tell it was about to make a sound, but before it did, I gently patted it on its head several times and tickled it under its neck. The dog started to roll on its back in a very vulnerable position. I'd read that when a dog exposes its chest, it shows great trust. I wanted to make sure the dog didn't make a sound, so I did my best to keep it calm. Due to my hesitation and distraction, the dog tugged vigorously at the bottom of my towel, seemingly seeking attention and acknowledgment.

I knew it was just playing, but if I didn't stop it, the dog might pull the towel off me. I already felt exposed enough! With my face close to the dog's, I let out a loud, cat-like "Hisssssssssss" right into its face, causing it to stop immediately, as if it knew it had done something wrong.

As I descended the stairs, I took a moment to observe the walls. The complete absence of family pictures was quite concerning. In fact, there were no photos or paintings of any sort adorning these plain vanilla walls. There were no decorative elements to speak of—just basic bronze lights.

I reached the bottom of the stairs, only to realise that the dog hadn't followed me. Instead, it stood still at the top, peering down at me with an intense gaze. Regret washed over me for making eye contact with it; that seemed to trigger the dog to react.

The dog thundered down the stairs at a breakneck speed, the overwhelming sound of its approach echoing through the house.

My heart pounded, worried that someone else in the house might have heard the commotion.

The dog then rushed to one of the other rooms and vanished from my sight. If the dog was going wild, it didn't necessarily mean there was somebody in the house. I hoped the occupants of the house were used to this behaviour from the Cocker Spaniel.

To reach the front door, I just needed to sneak past the living room doorway, and I would be there! The layout of the house was exactly like mine. I gradually walked past the opening of the living room and peeked inside, for some unknown reason. It looked like a normal living room with a TV and some old wooden chairs. The only thing that looked out of place—and for sure, it looked very odd—was a giant fish tank that took up the whole side of the room. It contained plain water, without pebbles, shells, or plants for fish to hide behind. I couldn't even see any fish. It just looked like an oversized water tank.

I pivoted, ready to head for the exit, when I saw an elderly man standing right in front of me. He wore a black and pink polka-dotted night robe.

"W-what are you doing here?" a frail voice quivered.

"I... umm," I found myself at a loss for words, making nervous noises. It felt like a bizarre version of Goldilocks. Instead of eating porridge or food in a stranger's house, I stood there with damp hair and a towel featuring a silly cartoonish female fox.

After inhaling the nasty odours emitting from the kitchen area, which smelled like cabbage and old socks that hadn't been washed for months, I definitely didn't want to eat porridge or any food from this house. Seeing his broken, yellow teeth and smelling his bad breath, it seemed the food wasn't doing him any favours. What could I even say in this situation?

"...I got lost..." I mumbled.

"B-b-but you returned at last! Th-that is all that matters."

I have 'returned at last'? Surely he has mistaken me for another person.

It was quite apparent that he might have some difficulty with his vision, considering how he frequently squinted while looking at me. He blinked a few times, trying to bring things into focus.

Now he was staring at me as if he was delighted to see me. Did he recognise me? I tried to make eye contact with him, but I didn't recognise him at all. If he lived on the same street and in the same block of houses as me, we must have seen each other in passing at some point.

"Y-you... you are still as beautiful as ever." He stood motionless, observing me with lowered eyes. I attempted to meet his gaze again, but our eyes never connected. I really didn't want to end up as some sort of make-believe mermaid for his enormous water tank. Not every girl dreams of being a mermaid, particularly not in this way. Nope-y.

He continued to stare intently at my upper torso, showing no sign of flinching. While I was aware of his vision issues, I couldn't help but wonder if he was truly unaware of where he was looking. Should I give him a slap? I was an intruder in a stranger's house, wearing nothing but a towel, and if I slapped a semi-blind old man, it'd look awful and be difficult to explain to the eBunnee social media police. The robe he wore was an unsightly display of polka dots. In that moment, I found myself wishing that Pac-Man would magically appear and devour all the dots on his ridiculous robe, along with the man himself. Nom-nom-nom! Bye-bye, polka dots, you won't be missed! And bye-bye, creepy man! Nom-nom!

The door to the outside was just behind this guy, a mere couple of yards away. He appeared rather fragile, and I might have been able to easily pass by him. Perhaps I could even manoeuvre under his legs to avoid any conflict. But there was absolutely no way I was going beneath those robes, which were most likely full of cobwebs and spiders. I didn't sense any immediate danger. Still, I cautiously scanned the surroundings to check for any potential threats or objects he could use against me, but I found nothing to be concerned about.

I closed my eyes and started singing in my mind, drawing strength from the inspiring words of a Kassy song:

♪ Kassy, Kassy, kiss, kiss! Purr at your enemies. Kassy waves goodbye. Kissy, Kassy, Kas, Kas! Spreadin' class all over the place, like a sassy boss! ♪

"H-how wonderful! Your voice is, uh, s-so enchanting that even unicorns will be jealous!"

Wait, how in the world did he hear that? I honestly thought I was only singing inside my head. It seemed his hearing was flawless.

He liked it? This is the first time anyone had ever complimented my singing. I've always felt my voice sounded too breathy and nervous when I sang.

I persisted in embracing the praise. This song is incredibly precious to me, and it brings me immense joy to express it with all the emotions I can muster:

♪ Slap slap, kiss kiss! Kassy take you on a ride! Kiss kiss slap slap! In a world of sass and charm! Kassy's here to do no harm! ♪

I continued with the rest of the song, my eyes closed, enunciating every syllable loudly and proudly. When the song was over, I was puzzled by the profound silence that followed. Perhaps the song's performance was so mesmerising that it left him utterly speechless.

"P-please, m-move your lips when you sing," his raspy, aged voice gently urged.

Move my lips as I sing? What am I, a poorly dubbed anime from the '70s where the characters' lips don't sync with their speech!?

I looked at him, noticing that he wasn't even making eye contact with me. Instead, his gaze lingered on my upset torso area once again.

With a sense of frustration, I pivoted my body to the left, hoping to divert his gaze from the top part of my towel. As I shifted to the right, his eyes and head followed, maintaining a fixed and unwavering focus. It felt as if I was in the presence of a mime, mirroring my every move, creating an intriguing yet unsettling connection between us.

"C-Cosmic Lunar Vixen, your charm e-entwines," his voice choked out.

I looked at him again to see what he was staring at and then realised he was fixated on the fox-girl design on my towel and not at something else. So, he might not be a sleazeball after all. It hit me that this design was based on an old cartoon called 'Cosmic Lunar Vixen,' which was about a fox girl who came from space to grant wishes and stuff.

"So... do you like Lunar Vixen?" I finally mustered up the courage to ask. I really didn't care about the answer; I just wanted to keep him friendly.

"I-I-Is she your friend? It's good to have friends, and I-I completely understand that. B-but, you know, it's also imp-p-portant to include everyone, i-including friends like me, in your c-circle."

Why was he talking as if there were two people here? Did he actually think that Cosmic Lunar Vixen, the fox-girl, was in his house right now, talking to him through the design on my towel?

"I-I have collected all of your posters, T-T-shirts, k-keychains, m-mugs, h-hats, b-books, c-cereals, milkshakes... all uno-opened... and s-s-s-socks," his voice heavily dipped as he said "socks," his frail voice getting overly excited without him having the breath to announce every piece of memorabilia he had.

Despite the show not being popular for over 30 years, I couldn't resist buying this towel from a retro store due to its captivating design. If this guy actually has milk and cereal featuring this character, they must be three decades old. Having already experienced the pungent aroma of milk at two weeks old, can you imagine how it would be after 30 years? The milk has probably evolved into a glowing, toxic green ooze, sprouting a few feet and hands, and perhaps even some hairs! Everyone adores hairy milk. This guy could be jokingly accused of possessing a chemical weapon—a weapon with the cutest fox-girl ever on the front.

The intense feeling of his gaze made me restless; all I want is to escape through that door! As soon as he stopped looking at me for one second, I was gone. Maybe I could get him to fetch something for me. I asked, "Can you show me the cereal keychain? I mean, the keychain of the cosmic Lunar Vixen? I'm dying to see it," I blurted out, trying to pretend to sound excited about the merchandise.

"W-why do you n-need to see that? W-we have the real L-Lunar right here. I-I... y-y-ou... w-we have the genuine, uh, Lunar right in front of you. So, there's no n-need to look elsewhere."

He seriously needed to get his vision checked. The fox-girl on my towel was a static image that hadn't blinked her eyes or moved at all. Isn't this a major red flag? I SOOOO wished I could just give him a good whack on the head with this stupid towel.

As he inched closer to me, a sudden crash shattered the silence in the other room. After the crash, I heard fast tapping feet following closely behind, accompanied by pained winces and animal growls. Then, there was another loud bang, making me jump slightly out of my skin.

"N-n-not again! M-Meowington! Wh-what are you d-doing in there? I-I already fed you, and y-you're wrecking the place for more food?!" The old man coughed uncomfortably, trying to clear his throat before resuming, "I-I can't believe you're still h-hungry after just eating."