Slubes

By Duth Olec

The planet Mintop is on the verge of invasion. Three slubes–distant relatives to slugs–find that an intergalactic conqueror is after a crystal of immense power in their town. According to legend, removal of this crystal has always led to a town-wide disaster. When it shatters in the sky, a race begins—the three slubes must rebuild the crystal before a new disaster takes place. That is, if one hasn't already happened, as the space invader isn’t about to lose such a powerful artifact and aims to stop their collectathon.

Numer, the happenstance hero with a nervous disposition, Cherry, the strong-tailed martial artist, and Professor Zeth, the well-meaning but careless inventor. These three semi-heroes must overcome The Conqueror’s obstacles if they are to save their planet from the disaster of an intergalactic invasion.

The debut novel of Duth Olec and perplexed narrator Wally Plotch chronicling tales of the Cloudy Cuckoo Cosmos, and the first of two novels in the Nottle Crystal series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Duth Olec
• Release date: Jun 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301502165

Duth Olec

Ridiculous author trying to write funny things that make you think, "I want to read more of this." A creator of bizarre worlds, creatures, characters, and ideas (I think that nails down all the noun categories) in the Cloudy Cuckoo Cosmos, another universe without an Earth. For that reason it is some type of Science Fantasy setting where things happen that probably don't on the Earth we live on. As I like to say, I want to be a professional author and then be unprofessional about it. In the context of the Cloudy Cuckoo Cosmos I, Duth Olec, left Earth for several reasons, kidnapped- errr, I mean, picked up a narrator by the name of Wally Plotch from his previous employer as it crumbled, and put him to work writing down these events. In the context of Earth, that hasn't happened yet. On my website you can read prog (in-progress) versions of past and future books for free. https://dutholeccuckooland.wordpress.com/cloudy-cuckoo-cosmos/novels/ I also have a Patreon if you are interested in donating; those who donate receive copies of my ebooks, so you can buy them or donate and get extra cool info about the CCC! https://www.patreon.com/dutholec There's even Cloudy Cuckoo Cosmos clothing. https://shop.spreadshirt.com/dutholec

Book preview

Duth Olec’s

Cloudy Cuckoo Cosmos 1

Slubes

Presented by Duth Olec

Narrated by Wally Plotch

This book brought to you by the letter A, published by Duth Olec at Smashwords.

All rights reserved. All lefts reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. ... probably. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead (and yes, that includes both living and dead events), is... probably a coincidence, who can really say for sure? Oh, except for you, the person reading this. I am totally mocking you.

Edition 1.0 publication: June 4th, 2013

Edition 1.1 publication: Released January 4th, 2014. Fixed a few small typos and mistakes, updated e-mail.

Edition 1.2 online serial publication: Released over July 1st, 2014 to March 1st, 2015. Rewrote parts of Day 5, primarily the end of the second part and beginning of the third part.

Edition 2.0 publication: Released March 10th, 2016. Complete reediting.

Edition 2.1 publication: Released April 20th, 2017. Minor fixes.

Copyright (C) 2013-17 Duth Olec and/or Jeremy Runyan

Cover Art (C) 2013 Eli Bock

Editor: Dawn Johnson @ Word Edge

Frienditors: Phil Schipper and Jaret Mints Cantu

Duth Olec contact information:

E-mail: [e-mail]

Website: http://dutholeccuckooland.wordpress.com/

Twitter: @DuthOlec

ISBN: 9781301502165

With thanks to my parents, for putting up with me for more than twenty years and beyond

Table of Contents

Introduction

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Glossary

Species Index

Character Index

Location Index

About Some Authors

Establishing connection...

Please wait...

Connection established.

Opening Cosmos Logbook.

Cosmos Logbook ready.

Network ready.

Messaging room open.

Duth_Olec: All right, it’s up.

Wally_Plotch: Can you see me?

Duth_Olec: No, but I can read you. Yes, that joke’s older than I am. In fact, saying a joke’s older than I am is older than I am, too. Anyway, if ever you are in need or must inquire of something, do not hesitate to ask, for I shall be reading all that you say.

Wally_Plotch: Okay, Duth, I kind of need something now.

Duth_Olec: That’s all you ever do is whine, whine, whine! Can’t you solve something yourself for once?

Wally_Plotch: What? But I just started. I haven’t even asked for anything yet.

Duth_Olec: Fine, what is it?

Wally_Plotch: Well, I can’t really see anything. The video feed window on the computer screen is blank.

Duth_Olec: Today we’re telling the story of Blind Blake, who is some guy that I looked up on Wikipedia.

Wally_Plotch: Um...

Duth_Olec: Okay, okay, okay. Gimme a minute to get the video feed set up.

*ROAR*

Wally_Plotch: That’s not the right setting! I nearly fell out of my seat from that loud noise.

*tapping*

Duth_Olec: Sorry, that was the Godzilla Network. You’d be surprised at what weird broadcasting channels you can find floating out here in space.

*tapping*

Wally_Plotch: By the way, what are those words in the asterisks?

*tapping*

Duth_Olec: Oh, that’s the sound-to-word program that adds sounds it picks up to the chat for the hearing impaired. Which, for our purposes, is anyone else reading this.

*tapping*

Wally_Plotch: It keeps picking up our typing, though.

*tapping*

Duth_Olec: Yeah, let me turn down the sensitivity.

Wally_Plotch: I think that did it.

Duth_Olec: Okay, I got the right video feed up.

Wally_Plotch: Oh, hey. It’s space.

Duth_Olec: Space! Gaze with awe upon its infinite majesty. From the inky black depths swirl myriads and myriads and myriads of shiny, twinkly stars like motor oil filled with struggling fireflies.

Wally_Plotch: Yeah, cool.

Duth_Olec: Gaze with awe, I say!

Wally_Plotch: I regularly saw such majesty in the skies where I lived.

Duth_Olec: All your life in one place at some lame desk job, and you don’t even awe.

Wally_Plotch: I had a very good view of the sky through a wide skylight.

Duth_Olec: And now anyone there could get a good view of the sky since the window shattered and the rest of the place collapsed. Whatever. We have to get going. The Cloudy Cuckoo Cosmos!

Wally_Plotch: The Cloudy Cuckoo Cosmos?

Duth_Olec: A cosmos so real, so very different from our own, and yet so, so similar.

Wally_Plotch: Our own?

Duth_Olec: Fine, fine. My own. For it is I, Duth Olec, the presenter of this tale.

Wally_Plotch: I know who you are.

Duth_Olec: Yes, but we’re gonna have readers someday. Once we’ve documented all this, we’ll send it out for people and cleeple and steeple to read. We need to introduce ourselves.

Wally_Plotch: Oh, okay. Well, I’m Wally Plotch. I’m not completely certain how I got here, but I’m your narrator here to record everything.

Duth_Olec: Yes, he is our stenographer.

Wally_Plotch: Well, I used to be the court stenographer for the Cosmos Court, but that place is a little defunct now.

Duth_Olec: And how do you mean you’re not sure how you got here? I brought you here. Just a little sleight of cloud rescued you from the crumbling of your previous employer.

Wally_Plotch: Rather literal, on that.

Duth_Olec: All right, now, let’s zoom in on the location of our documentary.

*sounds of hard wheels rolling on hard floor* *ticking and clattering and humming*

Duth_Olec: For a trip this far, we’ve really got to charge up this old thing. Okay, here we go.

Wally_Plotch: Whoa, that was quick. We shot through space so fast that everything blurred by.

Duth_Olec: We shot through space at the speed of light, got places to go, gotta follow my cloudbow.

Wally_Plotch: I think I got a little motion sickness from that. I’m still not completely used to real space-time.

Duth_Olec: That stuff hardly applies in this vessel, anyway.

Wally_Plotch: So what are those three planets?

Duth_Olec: Do you not recognize the three most important planets in the universe except for maybe that one planet and those other few way over there somewhere? Yes, in a universe without Earth, another planet (or three) had to become Center of the Universe.

Wally_Plotch: Earth was the center of your universe?

Duth_Olec: It’s a joke, Wally. Earth was actually incredibly unimportant on a galactic scale. Actually, to be fair, these planets, Mintop, Zhop, and Derantu, are also fairly insignificant.

Wally_Plotch: But for the purposes of this tale?

Duth_Olec: But for the purposes of this tale they would remain so.

Wally_Plotch: What?

Duth_Olec: It’s a play on words. Yes, for the purposes of our story, the planet Mintop is Center of the Universe. Let’s zoom in on it. You might experience a slight motion blur.

Wally_Plotch: Wow, it’s so pretty.

Duth_Olec: Finally, we’re getting some awe up in here.

Wally_Plotch: It’s like a big, pink marble.

Duth_Olec: It is absolutely nothing like a marble! It’s more like a giant, round rock that was turned into a dump and then there was a huge flood. And who do you think caused that flood? But those dang space gulls flew away before they could get drowned.

Wally_Plotch: I think you’re getting off-track.

Duth_Olec: Oh, right. So, Mintop, for our purposes, is Center of the Universe. Filled with lots of species. Many different types of people- I mean cleeple. Every clerpson is different. No two species are the same. And the most important species on Mintop...

Wally_Plotch: Yes?

Duth_Olec: ...is not the focus of our story! Instead we focus on what could be described as the least important species on Mintop, slubes. I’m sending you a picture. It’s up to you, Wally. Narrate to our readers what a slube looks like!

Wally_Plotch: What? Oh, right!

Wally_Plotch: The slube, a yellowish sort of species, mostly because its skin is yellow. Its long body goes straight from its neck to the ground where it widens into a round tail that lays on the ground. It kind of looks like a bent tube sock with thin, floppy noodles for arms. It has a round, toothless snout, and sitting atop its round head are two round eyes, bigger and whiter than eggs, as well as mushier, with a layer of smooth, yellow skin covering the backs.

Duth_Olec: And that’s the slube. Enough introductions! Wally, put on your headphones. Turn on the thought streamer. Get your fingers ready, because it’s time... to... write!

Wally_Plotch: Wait!

Duth_Olec: I can’t! My finger is slowly moving to the start the story button.

Wally_Plotch: But you never explained this thought streamer thing to me.

Duth_Olec: Oh, that’s a minor detail. Basically you’ll be listening in on the thoughts of our point of view character, whomever I’m following at the time.

Wally_Plotch: I see, it’s how I’ll be able to write what a character’s thinking. It’s rather amazing. I just want to thank you again for this opportunity to get out of that drab old place and become a storyteller.

Duth_Olec: All right, get to writing. Oh, wait, one more thing: stay true to events. If they ever read this down there, we want to make sure we stay faithful to this reality.

Wally_Plotch: Got it. Ready to go.

Duth_Olec: Oh, wait, one more thing again.

Wally_Plotch: What?

Duth_Olec:

Slubes

Duth_Olec: Just in case you forgot what novel this was.

Wally_Plotch: Slubes it is. Let’s write!

Return to Table of Contents

Day 1

An orange light cut through the darkness like the first rays of sunrise. Shields squeezed tighter to block out the painful light. A warm sensation fell over the shields. Gradually they opened to let in fuzzy images of a pale red wall with a bright blue circle in the center.

A slube. His thoughts reminded him, I’m a slube. This helpful reminder reached the slube’s brain as slowly as something that moved very slowly. A proper simile hadn’t reached his brain yet; he hadn’t yet even remembered his name.

Numer, that’s it. My name is Numer, I am a slube, and I am very slow at waking up in the morning.

Something about that thought didn’t sound right, but Numer had other things to consider. Where was he? A big, red wall stood in front of him. The blue sky outside was visible through a hole in the wall, so he was inside somewhere. He looked at his bed sheets. He felt the soft, itchy bed made of—hang on, what was it called?—grass, yes, against his back. At the other side of the room, a closet door stood open, showing blue cloth hanging inside.

That’s right, I’m in my bedroom.

Numer rubbed his round snout. It was soft and toothless, but he could hardly open it from the gooey muck that accumulated in his mouth overnight. He needed a drink of water, but for that he would have to get up. The sleepy slube sat up in bed like a trapdoor rising open, and he fell forward. The upper half of his body lay on his lower half so his head rested on his tail.

After dozing off a few times, Numer pulled himself up to look through the window above the bed. The thin hands at the ends of his slender arms rubbed the two squishy eggs that were his eyes. They were almost as big as eggs, roosting atop his head. He looked out into the bright blue morning sky and remembered what it was that hadn’t sounded right about his earlier thought regarding morning: It wasn’t morning. The sun shone high in the middle of the sky and straight through his window.

Now he remembered: My window faces east so the sunlight won’t hit me through it until the afternoon.

That information was a lot to remember so early. Was it early? He’d say early, since his day was just beginning. Numer sat on his bed and looked out the window towards the orchard farms east of his house. Thick trunks of dark gold rose skyward, disappearing into tufts of green leaves with rainbows clusters of fruit among them. Information trickled back into Numer’s awakening consciousness as it did every day when he awoke, as if his brain needed to build back up to full speed.

He was twenty-three years old, a young adult slube. He lived in Nottle on the island Hackney. Nottle was a town inhabited solely by slubes. The volcano far past the orchard was called Mount Chiphus. The planet was known as Mintop. He did not live on New York Avenue.

That reminded Numer of his weird dreams. They were all a bunch of nonsense, usually.

Sure, the one about him being on the giant chessboard made some sense, although he’d never played chess in his life. He wasn’t the one playing chess, anyway. He was a pawn in the dream, and he was almost taken out by an opposing knight when the queen arrived and stopped its advance. After this she guarded him as he traveled to the other side of the board to become another queen.

He really hoped that the becoming a queen part was just a coincidence with the game’s labels. He knew he was male. He hoped his subconscious didn’t have a second opinion. He could at least accept subconscious fears about being a nobody and how he would handle becoming somebody. He had conscious fears about that anyway.

Most of his life he had lived in a bigger city where several different species resided. A few years ago he moved to Nottle, a small, quiet town. It was more a village than a town, really. No, he had told his parents, he was moving there to prove he could live out on his own, not because it was so small, quiet, and undemanding. His parents thought he was lazy, but he would show them. He would show himself, too. He wasn’t lazy.

Now then, nervous? He was definitely nervous. Cowardly? He was afraid to say. Uncertain? Certainly. Yellow? Indeed, both in skin and disposition.

So Numer had come to Nottle. It was such a small community that nothing ever happened. He could show that he wasn’t lazy and keep his nervousness from getting in the way.

Numer looked at the bright afternoon sky as a lone cloud drifted by. He supposed his nervousness still held him back in some ways. He usually slept in to avoid the bustle of the day’s beginning. Numer preferred the day to have already been started, for its mood to be established. Then he could follow the work of the early-risers. He wasn’t much of a leader.

That was obviously why he woke up late. Numer nodded his squishy head in agreement with the answer he gave himself; the same answer he gave himself every morning were he awake, but he never was, so instead it was every afternoon.

Behind Numer’s house stood the fruit orchard that separated Nottle from the rest of Hackney. He looked at a cherry tree and smiled, thinking of her. There was a very good reason he had stayed at Nottle, and his heart swirled at the mere suggestion of her name.

He had fallen in love with Cherry: a beautiful, strong, intelligent, sociable, bold—well she was pretty much everything Numer wasn’t aside from a slube. His nervousness got in his way there, too. Every time he tried to talk to Cherry, his brain froze and his mouth felt mushy.

In short, she was wonderful, he was lame, and he had no idea how he could get her to notice him.

That probably explained why, in his dream, the queen appeared as Cherry. And just as he about reached the other side of the board to be made her equal, he was attacked and removed from the board. Even in his dreams he was a lame loser.

And every time he had a similar dream, the king piece beat him. Why a king piece? Maybe he just didn’t know any other chess pieces. Wasn’t there a square one? And a round one?

Numer shook his head. Okay, so that dream made sense. Sort of. He didn’t understand the other one at all. A giant thimble wearing a top hat demanding money from him and chasing him around a square board on which stood red buildings the size of his head? He’d never even heard of a board game like that.

The sleepy slube yawned. He’d sat on his bed long enough. It was time to get up and head out. He pushed his bed sheets off his tail and wogged over to his closet, the undulation of his tail pushing him forward.

Numer put on one of his two blue skeshes, the loose slube clothing with sleeves that reached from below the neck to just above the tail. He flexed his tail, rubbing it against the soft, grassy carpeting. He always imagined Hackney’s grass felt how a fluffy cloud would. It made a good material for carpets, and the farmers who gathered it and the weavers who made it into carpets were truly talented. They didn’t worry over their work.

Numer wogged to room’s exit, halting to push aside the two slube-sized leaves covering it. The slubes who picked the leaves from trees and the slubes who designed them into hanging covers were also talented. They didn’t fret over failure and avoid their work.

He touched the wall made of rough, dried clay as he passed through the exit. All the slubes who worked on making that house were talented. Every one of them did it for no monetary reward; it was all for the community. They were very community-minded and not at all afraid.

Numer’s old city used small pieces of metal for money, but Nottle never adopted that system. Slubes took what they needed and shared what they had, be it time, talent, or supplies. If anyone took more than they needed they were ostracized.

But what could Numer do? Hardly anything. He didn’t have any particular talent. He didn’t grow food. He had plenty of time when not asleep, so he helped gather fruit at the orchard and he helped others with small jobs carrying this or that or moving one thing or another. He certainly wouldn’t impress Cherry with such paltry achievements.

Still, it was all he could do. He could think of no other alternative, and it wasn’t like something would just fall into his lap. Numer passed through the bare front room of his house and wogged to his front door. It was time to face the day and greet his fellow Nottle residents.

Duth_Olec: There you have it, the hero of our story.

Wally_Plotch: He doesn’t seem like much of a hero.

Duth_Olec: Yet. True heroes never do start like heroes, do they?

Wally_Plotch: What about strong, brave warriors fighting off armies of evil?

Duth_Olec: Those guys are never the focus. Except in movies, and those are usually an exaggerated version of events. Like, really figgin exaggerated. We’re dealing in reality here. We handle nothing but the truth. Also, in movies, you’re only allowed five minutes of conversation and reflection, with the rest dedicated to action. And speaking of action, here’s none!

Wally_Plotch: Here’s none? That sounded kind of awkward.

Numer stared at the town of Nottle outside his door. He couldn’t believe his eyes. There was something very wrong. Nottle appeared completely deserted.

From where he stood in front of his house, Numer could see most of the village. Ahead and to his left stood the storehouses, a group of six buildings where the community kept food and clay and other supplies. To his right stood a row of houses along the north edge of the village. Everything else in Nottle was flat, open, grassy land. He could lie down on the ground on one end of town and still see to the other end. Behind him to the east stood the orchard, beyond which lay the rest of the island. In all other directions, the vast pale magenta ocean surrounded Nottle as far as could be seen.

Today Numer could see all of Nottle as usual. He could not, however, see a single slube.

Numer pictured all the times he’d gone outside before. Every day it was the same. He saw many busy slubes going to and from the storehouses, chatting with one another, small slube children playing and sleeging about chasing each other. Slubes just weren’t prone to staying shut up indoors.

Perhaps something terrible had happened. Maybe everyone in town had been kidnapped. What if a monster had killed and eaten everyone? Numer shuddered at the thought of a monster roaming Nottle’s silent fields, and he felt loneliness creep up his stomach. Or even worse, the slubes of Nottle had decided they didn’t like Numer anymore so they all packed up and left without telling him.

Numer rubbed his head. No, there had to be a more logical (and, he hoped, less frightening) explanation. None of the ground looked scraped like he’d expect from the rampage of a vicious monster. Nothing appeared damaged. Everything was as serene as could be, as if someone had built a full-size model of Nottle realistic to every detail. Then they put Numer inside it because they didn’t like him anymore.

In fact, Nottle looked frozen in time. Numer heard nary a sound. No wind blew; the ocean lay still and flat. He couldn’t hear a sound. Only one cloud hung in the sky, and it too appeared still. Throughout Nottle the grass was flattened as if something had rolled over it, not cut or battered it, but there was no sign of what might have done so. It was all too still, and Numer felt as empty as the town.

As he looked at the town, Numer heard a groan and felt his insides shake with hunger. He rubbed his belly. Maybe that creeping loneliness was just hunger. Numer wished he’d remembered to grab something last night to eat in the morning.

As Numer wogged to the storehouses he heard a rustling. His heart jumped, and he spun around. The rustling stopped; it was just his tail rubbing against the grass. Numer felt a chill as if a ghost passed through him. The empty silence unnerved him. Shaking from head to tail, the lonely slube crept to the storehouses, keeping as quiet as an empty house. If there really was a monster, he wanted to sleeg away before being noticed.

Numer passed by the first storehouse. It, too, was devoid of any slubes. He passed to the next and found between them several upturned baskets, the fruits and supplies scattered. Someone had been there.

Then no one had been there.

Numer picked up a shepa—a hard, round, red fruit native to Hackney—from off the ground. Slubes were allowed to take what they needed, so Numer knew he was fine to take it. There were more shepas inside, and whoever had dropped it could get more. He shook the fruit and pulled off the stem, leaving a hole in the end. Through it he drank the fruit’s pulpy, crisp juice in one gulp. It felt like someone jammed a fruit into his neck, if jamming a fruit into someone’s neck could be considered quenching both a thirst and hunger.

Numer gasped after his long drink. He felt refreshed now. He stooped and examined the baskets and fruits. It all appeared to have simply tumbled to the ground, as if the slubes holding them had been zapped out of existence.

Numer stared at the crumpled shepa skin in his hand. Someone could have been holding that... and then the next instant they stopped existing.

The shepa dropped to the ground. Stopped existing. Numer’s mind finally processed the realization: Everyone was gone. Numer jumped up. No, there had to be somebody left!

Numer pulled open the door to the nearest storehouse and sleeged through the rows of baskets containing leaves and grass. He had to find somebody. Anybody! He would even be okay with finding a monster. Just something that would prove he wasn’t all alone there.

Not a living slube—not a living anybody—was to be found in any of the six storehouses. Numer sleeged to his neighbor’s house and looked through the window; he saw no one inside. Silence soaked the houses. He was alone. Was he alone?

Numer heard himself breathe through the silence. He heard his tail rub against the ground. He stopped. Was that him? Was that someone else? Was someone there? The silence suffocated him. He couldn’t take it anymore.

No one’s around! he shouted. Where is everybody? The silence shattered like glass but immediately put itself back together. Then it tinkled like glass lightly falling apart:

Why, over here!

Huh? What? Numer spun about for the source of the new voice. He saw a lone slube near the center of town and sleeged over to him. Oh, hello there. His puzzled voice had a note of relief in it that surprised him.

How do you do? My name is Professor Zeth, the strange slube said, shaking Numer’s hand with both of his. He wore a teal, buttoned-up skesh. Thick glasses were perched on his head, the lenses so foggy Numer couldn’t even see his eyes. There were creases in the slube’s face that showed this slube was a few years older than Numer (unless skin creases just came with the professor territory).

This professor didn’t seem like a bold slube who would be out in an empty town, say like an officer detective. Even so, he seemed exactly like the type of slube who would investigate such a peculiar occurrence: one so interested in things that, well, how could he keep away?

Numer looked around for anyone he recognized. Hi. I’m Numer. The town was empty save him and a slube he’d never met before. The situation unnerved and confused Numer more than usual. The thought of sleeging away crossed his mind, but this professor didn’t seem dangerous. With no one he knew at hand, he resigned to speak with the only slube around. Where is everyone?

In hiding, I suppose. That was quite a big shock to the town. But you must be quite the brave fellow, venturing out in the aftermath, right? Professor Zeth asked, still shaking Numer’s hand.

Shock? Aftermath? Brave? Me? Numer took a deep breath.

Yes! See here? Zeth spread his hands out, indicating a crater near where they stood. It appeared slightly wider than a slube, and lacked the thick grasses of Nottle. In the crater was a layer of loose soil, as if the grass had been pulled out and the soil shaken loose.

Numer stared at it. He felt the professor expected him to make some observation, but Numer couldn’t guess at the crater’s significance.

This is where the crystal was, Zeth said.

Numer scratched his head. Oh, that weird crystal thing in the middle of town? Numer had seen it. It was hard not to notice—as tall as a slube and deep black, standing out against the green grass and blue sky. He never paid it any attention, though. It had been in Nottle longer than anyone knew, and no one knew where it came from. Numer only now realized that, along with no other slubes, he hadn’t seen the crystal. There he stood at the center of town, and the crystal was missing from its appointed location.

If you like, Zeth said, I think I can explain some things if you come with me. He turned around and headed northwest.

Numer could have turned away and gone home. He could have looked for someone else. He’d never met Zeth. How did he know he wasn’t dangerous? Because Zeth had an attitude that suggested he’d put himself in danger before working out how to harm someone else. Numer shrugged and followed. It looked like the only way he would find some answers.

Duth_Olec: Hey. Hey, hey! Hey, Wally!

Wally_Plotch: What? What is it?

Duth_Olec: Do you think Zeth is a mad scientist?

Wally_Plotch: I don’t know. He seems kind of silly. I don’t know about mad. Numer doesn’t seem too worried about him, and I’d think he would be worried about anyone.

Duth_Olec: He’ll totally be a mad scientist. He’s gonna turn Numer into a potato.

Wally_Plotch: Don’t you already know what happens in this story?

Duth_Olec: Oh,