Currently oblivious to the Coachman’s Machinations, Pinocchio & Candlewick had started a fresh round of Billiards in the Pool Hall. Pinocchio taking the opening turn this time on account of Candlewick refilling his foaming mug.
“Huh, the way that Jiminy fellar was speaking. You’d think that something’ was gonna happen to us.” Candlewick spat before taking a long draft of the chilled beer to settle the slight knotting in his stomach.
What he couldn’t have known, thanks in part to his own intoxication, was that said feeling was being induced by his innards reshaping, reforming themselves before the outward signs of the Island’s Curse manifested. Beginning with an itching and pulling on his ears, as unseen to the two occupants of the Hall, they were pulled and stretched upwards, dirty brown hair thickly coating them with black for the pointed tips. Ears that would not have looked out of place on the donkeys that had pulled the stagecoach - with its fresh batch of victims - to the Cursed Island in the first place.
No, what was on Candlewick’s mind at this time was his won joy at how things really were looking up for him for once in his short life. Out on the streets, life might have been fun, but it had also b been tough, in his mind, Candlewick had been forced to grow up a little bit too fast, not able to truly enjoy life. Something he was determined to rectify now, while the opportunity presented itself.
“Who…knows…?” Pinocchio managed after completing his opening shot, placing a solid and stripe on the opposing upper corners respectively and leaving the table open for his Pal to make his next move, less used to alcohol and really feeling its effects.
Perhaps why he didn’t immediately register Candlewick’s ears when they passed.
“Conscious? Phuh.” Candlewick couldn’t believe the nerve of that Beetle(?), what was wrong about wanting to have fun? It was their Right after all.
Now having lined up his shot, it was as he took it that the Curse proceeded onwards, grimly determined to claim its Final Victims for the Night by having Candlewick’s tail sprout from his tailbone, tearing through his green pants, the same dirty brown with black tassel as his ears.
It was only now that Pinocchio’s foggy mind finally registered the changed, and new, appendages on his new friend, briefly looking at his own mug wondering if it were responsible. Almost as quickly however, the smell from it made his mind up for him, the taste too.
In the months and years that would follow from this night, he would wonder if it were his being made of wood that had slowed the Curse down for him. Having to shape solid wood into living tissue and working organs. He would never know.
In any case, with the nine-stripe in the centre-left, Candlewick had proceeded to continue with his round, the seven-stripe glanced to keep him from losing a turn from what would otherwise have been a poor ball placement for him.
“How do you expect to be a Real Boy?” He asked his friend, only somewhat rhetorically, picking up the almost-expended Cigar and returning to his seat. “What does he take me for?”
“A Jackass?” Candlewick posed the question, failing to realise that in the time it’d taken him to sit down, his head had pushed out into a clearly equine muzzle which combined with the black mane that worked its way down to below his shoulder-blades, was unmistakably that of precisely the answer to his own demand.
“May…mayb….” Pinocchio tried to answer through both his own barely-contained laughter and his own drunkenness. “B-b-but…Candlewick…wh-what did you ssay earlier? Life live…?”
“You only live once Pinoke.” He answered, anger at his pal’s almost saying he looked like a Jackass replaced fast by his budding friendship with the wooden boy.
“Y-yeah…that…” Too inebriated to react properly to what was happening to Candlewick, he staggered over to the table for his next shot. “Doesn’t…that mean…the Good? And…and B-bad?”
Rather clumsily, Pinocchio was however, successful in pocketing the corner Solid with a Power Shot, which bounced away to sink a second one on the opposing corner.
“Yeah! Now you’re getting’ it!” Candlewick’s approval at his figuring it out more than sufficient to overcome the itching that worked it’s way down his torso - well, that and his own excessive consumption of beer. “Life’s, MEANT, to be Lived.”
“Uh…huh…” Pinocchio blew his next shot, striking exactly nothing, allowing his friend...
“…Two in a Row for me.” Candlewick finished off his Cigar, starting to feel hot in the legs as he lined up for his shot.
One that required him to lean backwards on the table, one foot out for balance which in turn flicked when he struck the ball. A flick that knocked his shoes off, revealing feet that had been replaced with black, hard hoof.
And now as Candlewick’s transformation relentlessly marched on, so too did Pinocchio’s finally show itself with his face finally pushing out. Hard cold wood replaced by warm grey-furred flesh flanked by long grey-and-black ears.
“So tell me Pinoke,” Candlewick posed after firing off his shot, just as the brown fur ran unseen down his arms. “You are having fun, right?”
“Ss-sure am…” He replied between drags, a bleary grin etched onto his donkey head.
“Excellent!” Candlewick gasped, his shirt and vest suddenly feeling tight on him, the inevitable consequence of his body widening and pressing against it.
‘Oh well, they were already too small for me anyways.’ He passed off the tearing sound he heard when he felt the pressure relax, aforementioned shirt and vest having torn down his back, and popping open along his front.
“Your turn.“ After failing to sink sinking another striped ball, the problem it posed was made clear, causing him to mess up his shot.
“You got it!” Pinocchio readied himself, tasselled tail swaying freely behind him while Candlewick ripped free the torn halves of his ruined shirt and vest, discarding them onto the otherwise empty floor the lighter tan-brown fur of his front in clear view between his still-intact (for now) pants, jacket, and ascot.
And only for the second time, did Pinocchio grow concerned at what he was seeing, at just how like a Jackass his Best Friend was becoming.
“C’Mon Pinoke! Watcha waitin’ for?” And for only the second time, Candlewick’s response put paid to his concerns, passing it off as his beer-addled mind playing tricks on him.
Said beer-addling perhaps why Candlewick too, did not take the sight of his wooden pal’s furred legs as Pinocchio struggled to line up any shot with any alarm.
Finally managing to hit the white, the terrible aim causing it to spear way off, crashing into the Solid two, which in turn impacted the black, which in turn spun itself…
“…Into the pocket. That means I win!” Candlewick cheered his own good luck, launching himself off his chair to land on his hoofed feet with a loud clop, the noise masking the sound of his suspenders tearing away from his pants, only his wider hips holding them on anymore as he moved to on unsteady hooves to help Pinocchio off the table.
“Alright Pinoke, I think that’s enough for one night.” Candlewick concluded, lighting what would be his last Cigar of the night with his black-ended three-digit hands. “let’s find a place to crash, huh.” He offered the lit Cigar to his grey-furred friend who accepted it even as he lit his own now while they left the Pool Hall, the chill night air refreshing after their long day of Fun.
“So what’d I say Pinoke?” Candlewick asked after several long minutes of wondering the empty Fairground, their four-between-them black hooves clopping on the hard ground and his creaking pants the only other sounds in the deserted place. “Isn’t this a Swell Joint?” He continued, guiding his Best Friend into what appeared to be a good place to catch some much-needed sleep.
The other point Pinocchio would catch himself wondering, was what had caused the Curse to stall when it did? The only answer that ever made even one iota of sense to him, was perhaps their growing friendship at the time, and Candlewick’s demonstrated capacity to care for someone other than himself, perhaps leaving him open to salvation?
But in the Here and Now, long before any such deep questions would ever enter his young mind, the next sound Candlewick would hear was…