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Author: Lindsey Phillips
Title: High Pitches
Type of Work: novelette (presumably part of an unfinished novel)
Source: CMv1 #21 (2 parts), 22, 23, 24, 27* (5 parts), 28, 30 (2 parts), 31, 33, 34, 35, and 36

*the special All-Lindsey edition

Copyright 2002 Lindsey Phillips


Part One

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Don't get me wrong, I don't often solve mysteries, mostly because nobody will ever speak
to me. But the big-eyed dame that walked into my cardboard box this Thursday morning
intrigued me like never had Andy. She was a smart one, knew the difference between
box and office.
"Ooch," she teased in a thrilling manner and I knew no one would scream bloody murder
when Scratches walked down the street.
Then I realized she wasn't alone. A tiny guy came out from behind her and flipped me
the birdie. Then it dawned on me like a bat swallowing an alarm clock. He was part of
the gang widely known as the Ricky haters. I had tried to join many a time, but the gang
didn't take to me easily. They stepped on my foot on purpose. It traumatized me for
years.
The sharp dame looked like she wanted to pick a catnip ball with me, but the little guy,
who claimed to be Pipfrog, wouldn't play games. He wanted to know what the heck
Scratches was doing in my office. Well, I'd show him.
" Ricky, 'tis amazing that you could get even one person to enter this cardboard - er,
office of yours."
That really stung. I know, I'm a wimp, but it is all not my fault. It's someone else's. I
mean, when you live in New York you need to be tough. That's why I live in Stupidity.
You can be a whining baby and live here.
So I shot him. Not Pipfrog, oh no, I'm talking about Mr. Fuzzlesteins, my imaginary
friend. He's the one who had let them in, the stupid idiot. Too bad he has magic
powers and the shot didn't harm him. He just got really pissed off. I told him that he
was to help me solve this mystery or else he wouldn't play Barbie with me anymore. He
said fine and I cried with my head down on my desk and my two guests snickering at
him. Or me. I couldn't tell. I was too busy thinking about that Bodily fluid flavored
lollipop I'd had for lunch. Etch.

So I finally had a mystery to solve. Now that I had one I didn't know where to begin.
How about the drugstore? Sure. I walked through the no-walking zone and had a ton of
people cuss at me and finally reached the drugstore. Now what? I walked up to the guy
at the counter and asked for the manager. Then I turned to Mr. Fuzzlesteins.
"Watch how I handle this guy!"
The manager came up to us. He said his name was Picky. But something was different
about him. Why did he sound like a woman? Oh, it was a woman. Whoops!
" So," I said smoothly," seen any good Barney episodes lately?" Mr. Fuzzelsteins was
looking at me with a funny look on his face.
"I DON'T GET CABLE," she yelled," So stop asking me!"
"What are you talking about?" I asked looking at her stupidly.
"Every single frickin' day you come in here asking me if I watch Barney. Hell, no! You
really make me mad. I wish that for once you would act a little bit normal and not like
an idiot! Jeez!"
"Well, screw you!" I yelled back as my hair, my pride and joy, hit the sidewalk.
"She was right, you know. You do do this everyday."
"What about that time I took a trip to England?"
"That wasn't real. It was your imagination. You got into your toy car and went to the
drugstore for tea. They don't even sell tea there. You are too stupid for your own
good, you know that?" he rattled on, and on.
I yelled, "Will you shut the beans up? We had this conversation yesterday." I was
getting mad at him. "You imaginary friends are all the same. Cheap nopersons."

=== === === === ===

Chapter 2: Erid and that darn 3rd person narrative

Meanwhile, another story began (as so many stories begin) with a Wiffle
evading capture. It was a warm, Quartestral (a month around your June) day
at Speel Falls. The sun was shining brightly, almost too brightly, and the
moons of nearby Buga-_Mocha floated lazily in the sky. How many a day
Eridians had danced under that very moon, celebrated their holidays, and
lived merrily under its mystical ways. But the Wiffle paid little attention to
the surrounding elements. A large, beautiful male, with curly yellow hair was
what he was, and therefore was prized by hunters in the area.
However, the hunters would not get their catch today. As the Wiffle ran
out from under one of the many waterfalls, a tomato splattered the cool
gray rock, exposing that there was an MI nearby. Both hunter and hunted
scrambled away, for they were off to tell Oun ii Tiil (less the wiffle), more
or less the King (has 13 children… yeesh).
The MI fugitive knew this. His name was Kyle, Eridian word for "spy." He
was raised to do just that, to spy on the likes of Erid. But Kyle didn't want
part in it; he didn't want part in his own race, so he had run away (a great
feat for an MI, with terrible risks and terrible consequences). He wanted to
be an Eridian! The great people with their great ways and traditions, their
merciful yet strict personalities, THIS was paradise.
However, Kyle knew there was much danger. His name meant what it meant,
he was an MI in Erid, and things weren't, and if they were, wouldn't look
good. Yet he dodged another tomato and ran towards O' Phyla (Erid's
largest and Ritziest city. Oh yeah, and the capital!).
A dark shadow followed him, and it became a cloud, and was seen all the
way in Ger. The people knew there had been a change in their wonderful
balance, and they knew this change was larger, perhaps, then what would
happen if Ricky himself discovered the Isam.

Kyle could hardly recall his free years as a 'Lectling (as they called them),
nor the discussions with his grandmother. Kyle wouldn't know it until later,
but the women of the MI were kept underground as breeding stock.
He'd often say, "could I just once play outside? I promise I won't be seen."
The answer was always no.
When Kyle was taken away from his safe underground home at age six, he
found that he would have much rather stayed. Here were cruel generals with
no sense of Eridianity, and Kyle learned soon that he was to become them.
So vigorous training he went through, with three hours rest, and lost the
peak times of his life to slavery and no sense of hope nor freedom.
But the mothers had done their part. For they told, and still tell, the
children of the Wiffle, and when one larger than a boulder came within MI
boundaries, one would be chosen to follow it. Of course, you can guess who
this was.
So came that day, the day of Assign. The day every trainee at the age of
seventeen would be brought into the actual army. This was the day those
few people that still have a grasp of hope lose it to the punishment of
Generals.
The kids lined up. Kyle took a look around, at the trees nearby and the sky.
He wondered if when he went insane he would ever notice these things
again.
A flash of yellow streaked by him, knocking him into the bushes. He looked
out, and saw several of his comrades were staring. They thought he was
running away.
"Get help," one mouthed, but where could he do such a thing? He looked to
his right and saw, yet twenty feet away from him, a large yellow creature.
He could see it was much bigger then the boulders he had to drag around to
build strength, and the old story snapped into his head. But the wiffle
wouldn't wait for him to process all of this. It bounded away from him, at
an extremely starling speed.
"Wait," he yelled, "take me with you!" Luckily the Generals hadn't heard
over the screams of Kyle's friends.
Kyle ran a few paces. But stopped. What was he supposed to do? Just keep
going, until he reached the other side of Erid? Was there even another
side? It could go on forever. He could vaguely remember a map of Erid
shown to him during his less violent studies. Yes, there was another side. A
Gulf, he recalled the Gulf of Ortsac. Since that was all he could remember,
he decided to head for it. But he had walked still only five feet when he
was struck down, by what he did not know.

Two days later found Kyle running towards O'Phyla. He had been lost for
those two days, heading in a wrong direction, but upon reaching Speel Falls
he dug the map out of his memory again, and headed northeast. Actually,
he headed more north than northeast, because if he headed too far east he
would be back at the MI, and they would kill him. Although, to Kyle, either
way he was dead. O' Phylans would recognize him as the enemy, he knew
that much.
Meanwhile, there were two very different people in the city of O'Phyla.
The first was Robert Eric Smith Jones Kyle Bran (let's call him RESJKB).
The name stood for "Robert Eric Smith Jones Spy Bran." As you can tell,
he had a mean temper. He was also a very large duck.
The other was Timot_He Fishface. He was one of the few Eridians that
actually lived in Stupidity. He loved chips, and loved rocks, but couldn't
speak because he was mute.
RESJKB and Timot_He were waiting for a friend, Propaganda, to meet them
there for lunch. It was a lengthy commute for her since she lived in
Buga-_Mocha, several hundred miles away. She was coming for a meeting
about their project, the Isam Search 3000. It was a program to protect
and find the Isam. The town was quiet, and seemingly empty, which was
normal for the people of Erid, who loved a peaceful environment.
It is hard, as RESJKB often found, to strike up a conversation with someone
who can't talk, but you can engage in a boring one-sided one. At this
RESJKB was especially good.
"Ricky tried to find the Isam again," he started, "but he walked to the
Jamadas asking where it was." Jamadas are like police, but remember
everything's named different there due to lack of conduct towards and an
apathetic view towards you, the human.
Timot_He couldn't respond, of course, so they both stood there, hoping
Propaganda would show up soon. But adventure came before she arrived, and
it came from the bushes.
"Look, Fishface, adventure!" RESJKB laughed as the bushes rustled.
Timot_He hit the adventure with a rock (it was his first impulse), and the
noise stopped. Out stepped a strange man, wearing strange clothes, but
RESJKB knew who, or what, it was at once.
"It's a Metal Brain spy!" As you can tell, RESJKB knew a spy when he saw
one. This fact would have been known to even the youngest Eridian, as a
boy dressed all in blue with a strange hat and only a small dagger at his
side wasn't common. Most Eridians wore brown and red.
Kyle spoke, "I'm not a spy." He held out a large green rock, one that was
clear down to the middle, where a pink stone reflected from the sun. It was
called a Marfent, and it meant peace, or surrender. Neither RESJKB nor
Timot_He could legally hurt him because of it. It was odd, that a soldier
from a distant land would surrender to a duck and his incapable companion.
Kyle continued, "I left the Metallic Intellect. I will not be going back, and
I shall see to this." This was a very strange thing for the Eridians. How
could one hate their own country? RESJKB decided to test the stranger, to
see if he was still a spy, or really was what he said he was. He spoke in
Eridian.
"Glef Drimol Clink Jones Robert manya mayamentos?" Which, of course,
meant "What is your name and where are you from?" (actually, it doesn't,
that's just gibberish. I don't have the actual words written yet) He of
course knew where the MI was from, and could make an educated guess on
the name.
Kyle could speak perfect Eridian, but his mind was trained, and he knew
what the duck was attempting. He said nothing.
RESJKB was angered, and leaped at him at once, "Damn spy!" But somebody
grabbed his duck feet and he flew back into Propaganda.
"AY!!!!! Watch the mallets!" she looked at RESJKB angrily.
RESJKB, "I'm dealing with a spy!" Propaganda noticed Kyle for the first
time. She walked up to him curiously, then started beating him with her
mallets, almost rhythmically.
"Ouch!!! Bad word!" Kyle said. Propaganda took no notice of this, but
stopped, giving a final whack on the head.
"Sounds fine to me. Nice and hollow." But RESJKB was looking for a reason
to have Kyle arrested. He looked and saw that Propaganda's mallets were
sitting on top of Kyle's hat.
"He's stealing you mallets!" RESJKB bellowed, which sent everyone into a
frenzy of fighting. There were several "quacking" sounds, rocks flying
through the air, laughs from Propaganda, and a couple of "ouches" from
Kyle.

=== === === === ===

Chapter 3: Mr. Wormy worm
(Or as I so cleverly pronounce it, Mr. Wormy Woim.)

I sat there on the curb thinking about circles, and why they are all shaped the same. Then I got up to ring the bells on the door of puzzelton (I heard that line somewhere, can't remember where) when I saw my old tapeworm, Mr. Wormy-worm. He was all dried up in the sun, and dead.

"Oh, no, not Mr. Wormy-worm!" I cried," Don't leave me Mr. Wormy-worm!

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I sat there sobbing on the ground until Mr. Fuzzelsteins came around, saw the dead carcass of my old tapeworm, and laughed.

"You seriously need help."

"Shut up! I'm mourning."

"You hated that worm. You went to the drugstore asking the manager to help you. You even wanted to go through surgery to take it out of your ass."

"(Sniff) I know."

"That isn't even a tapeworm. It's an earthworm. Hey, don't cry, we can hold a funeral for you, er, him."

"Mmmmmmmkay. Will you at least kiss me goodnight?" I was really sad.

"No. You're sitting on the curb in the middle of the day. I won't kiss you."

I walked to the funeral sadly. We had invited several people who had seen me on the street and pitied me, so I decided to look my best. When I got there though, people looked at me strangely. Why were they all wearing black? My white wedding gown really stood out in the crowd.

The night before I had made a decision. I would go undercover at the funeral. Mr. Wormy-worm would have wanted it that way.

I walked around, trying not to act too suspicious, when the mayor came up to me. He told me how sorry he was.

" That's mmmkay," I said," I don't maim myself." He got out of there as fast as he could. There is just something about that mayor that scares me, but just as the doorknob won't sing without vocal chords (I shudder to think about that) ideas don't come to me like computers to peroxide. I know. Nobody understands the mayor either.

So I said, "I do" to Mr. Wormy-worm as they buried him in my sandbox and then I went over and planted a wet one into the dirt. Darn. I couldn't remember where I had put my gun. I might need it.

Then Andy Queerdid walked down the street. There it was! I picked my little one-inch gun and popped it at him. It made a little "plicking" sound and a Styrofoam ball attached to a string went about three inches before falling to the ground. Drat. I was hoping that it would've been made out of beans.

I went to the bar down the street and ordered an apple juice to go. I can really get drunk on those things, so I ordered a small. Mr. Fuzzlesteins was mad at me because I had broken his crayons after he wouldn't kiss me goodnight. I suddenly realized that this could be a murder mystery. Wow. Just think. Me, Rick Stoopdid solving a mystery. Dud!!!!

I thought about who was murdered, but no matter how hard I tried, nothing came to mind. RRRRRRGHHHH!!!!!

So I finally decided to go and talk to the bartender. He was wise and full of wisdom.

"Screw off, you're scaring away the customers you-," he went on, and was nice enough to choose his words nicely before grabbing my hair and tossing me into the trash out back. It kinda hurt, but I thanked him and went on, looking for clues.

Suddenly I heard a noise. I looked up expecting to see a Chod, an Eridian animal that resembles a dog, but it was only my best friend Motchu Goosemonkey.

"Motchu!" I yelled gleefully, as he looked up.

"Ricky? Oh no! Bad luck for thirteen days! I hate you, Lemon Meringue!" Motchu slapped himself.

I gasped. He had spoken an Eridian word!

"That makes me happy Motchu," I said, "Eridian is sooo cool!"

Motchu looked as if he had made a big mistake. He was a quarter Eridian, so he sometimes says Eridian words to rile me up.

"Ricky, I-"

"SSH! Not Ricky, Poopenia!"

"Ricky you know Poopenia hates it when you go by her name!"

"But it's such a PURTY name!" I argued. I've always wanted to be like Poopenia, who has found the Isam but not forty dollars.

Motchu looked at me disdainfully, "Ricky I have to go to, uh, GafildaFred's GafildaFun Gafildafish for a pickup. Then I have to read the latest addition of the P-hole brothers' catalog since you blew my last toilet up, and then-"

"Okay Motchu, I have a mystery to solve!"

=== === === === ===

Chapter 4: Motchu's Perspective

That stupid Ricky. He had been known for blowing up my toilet. But my long lost Crapmaster2000 was the least of my worries as I headed to GafildaFred's

GafildaFun Gafildafish. What was Ricky up to? Would it become such as the Great Yarn and Needles Incident, or perhaps such as what landed him in the Bloody Good Insane Asylum? There was no way to tell as I thought about what he had said. A mystery…

Mysteries were hard to come by, and the accounts of such things could only be found on the secret imports from a far away country. Terrible things would come from such a proposal, no matter how innocent it seemed. People would die, mishap after mishap would occur, and eventually we would be killed individually. Mysteries, no good can come of them. Coldness and darkness and frightful creatures. Maybe an execution or two. But it was not my position, at the time, to say exactly why, or how, these things would happen. It took time to ponder the details, to ask questions, and condemn the guilty, which was usually Ricky, and the assumed me.

Gafildafred was serving his famous Krichek Soup when I came by.

"Hello Motchu! Pie!" Gafildafred was also part Eridian. We both spoke the sacred language, but since we weren't pure Eridians, we had no knowledge to the whereabouts of the Isam, or even what an Isam was.

"Chocolate, I'm sure," I replied, "Do you have the stuff I ordered?"

"Of course I do, but I must tell you, I almost didn't. Ricky came running in here, threw it on the ground, and said he was looking for the Isam. What a great and mighty thing the Isam must be to provoke such idiots as Mr. Stoopid to wreck your precious food!"

I sighed. Why wouldn't Ricky just leave? He follows me everywhere, and yells at me so I fall of my roof, and passes me notes at seminars. He calls me an 'evil fiend', yet won't get out of my face!

Gafildafred must have recognized how esteem-demoted I was.

"Ricky sucks major ass, Motchu, I know. But even though he bothers you, and tries to run over your laptop, and kicks you when you moon him, deep down in there, he loves you."

I laughed, "You're saying I love him too right?"

"NO! I'd rather kill myself! If I thought you liked him I wouldn't TALK to you!"

"Oh, that's good to know," I was thoughtful for a moment, "Did Ricky talk to you about a mystery he was trying to solve?"

"Yes, he talked about a girl named Scratches and trying to join the Ricky Haters, and Mr. Wormy Woim, I think that's what he said."

I chuckled. It wasn't going to be too insane after all, "Thanks Gafildafred!"

I was walking home to look through the catalog for a new crapmaster2000 when I saw Andy Queerdid. He was really boring, but a good friend none the less.

"Why hello, Motchu!" Andy said in his boring drawl, "Found the Isam yet?" Andy always asked a question in every conversation. He said it was a tradition in his family. I guessed it was true because his family talks such as this too.

"You know I haven't, Andy. Have you seen Poopenia? I think she has my copy of the P-hole brothers."

"I think I saw her at the bar," Andy said knowingly (he paused), "What, did Ricky blow up the Crapmaster2000 again?"

"Yes, the third time this month. I don't even want to know what he does in there, there is always a ringing noise, like someone singing, and then a sploosh, and Ricky usually comes out of the bathroom covered in toothpaste. Well, I have to go find Poopenia then, see ya!"

I walked towards the bar, hoping Ricky wouldn't be there, then thinking, if Ricky does his impression of Gafildafred, I'll kill him. Gafildafred had a disorder to which he said "Gafilda" before every word he says that starts with an f. Ricky, however, doesn't get it, so he says gafilda randomly.

To my surprise, and hatred, the entire gang had shown up. Poopenia, Ricky, Gafildafred, Timot_He Fishface, even Robert Eric Smith Jones Kyle Bran!

"Hey Motchu!" They all said together.

"Hey guys, how are you?"

"I'm totally Killer."

"Gafaldafine!"

"Dud!"

And silence from Timot_He, who never talked. RESJKB (Robert Eric Smith Jones Kyle Bran) also didn't say anything, because he was busy fixing my laptop,

which Ricky had run over with a train.

"How's she coming?" I asked RESJKB.

"Better, although I don't think you should let Ricky near her again. Did I mention we picked up a spy this morning?"

"You WHAT?" A spy?

"Finally, someone with some sense to leave that damn island. Oh look, there's Andy."

Andy had entered the room, "Hey jeez!" He was just saying that to provoke Ricky, who thought that was cool.

Ricky started, "Homies! Geez! Sup foo? I'm gafildabadass!"

Everyone laughed. I turned to Poopenia.

"Do you have my copy of the P-hole brothers?"

"Yes, here you go!" She handed me a catalog that contained toilet products of the sort.

"Thanks. I have to go home now, so-"

Ricky jumped up, "OOH! Can I come too?"

"NO!!!"

"Why the cheese not?"

"I don't want my house destroyed!"

"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHH!!!"

=== === === === ===

Chapter 5: Propaganda tells of war

Stupidians. They mock us so, I wonder why. We banished them to their own land, and
left them alone. I have long hoped they would do the same for us.
News was an uncommon thing to hear in Erid. We knew of the rare events that happened
almost immediately, and had no need for messengers. But the spy boy, he was news. I
knew RESJKB hated him, and Xeal would come to hate him, and in time everyone would
hate him, but I felt rather sorry for the sad excuse for a war criminal. I had tapped the
almost rhythmic code onto his head, and he was smart in education, but stupid in life
itself. That was no fault but of Zichmar, that cursed Zichmar, who ruined us all with his
terrible insights on what life should be.
Anytone, for a mood change, I was strolling down the street of Buga-_Mocha. It was a
beautiful village, with one road and a large willow (not evil) rooted into a small hill in the
center. A thousand years ago the Early Ones had found this very tree, looking exactly as
it is today, and took it as a sign of peace. The tree has brought us that, and more.
"Hey you! Come back hear! I will keela yoo!" That was the only flaw in Buga-_Mocha, the
vile vine. There are no records of who created her, but we count it as part of Us, and
cannot rid ourselves of her for fear of losing part of Us.
Her yelling was better than when G-Fred got mad, but we couldn't tell anyone that he
was an Eridian. But someday, we would reveal that secret… and Ricky's secret! Not the
secret of what he does in the bathroom, but another secret, a dark lie!
Anyway, I was on my way home to feed my pet Chod, Stanshod. I also had a pet genet,
but RESJKB stole him, and I didn't really want to go get him back. I was also looking for
RESJKB and Timot_He, who worked with me on project Isamsearch3000. It was a project
to keep others away from the Isam, because it held great riches. Nobody, besides
Poopenia and the Eridians know where and what the Isam is, and we want to keep it that
way!
I reached home, and walked into the house.
Stanshod came running in, "Those who have tall hair, often wear underwear.
llbthbcthtbhbthth!" I fed him his favorite cereal (Wiffle Balls).
With that done, I went outside to go to O'Phyla. I knew I would find the others there,
they were always there, as if they were rooted, such as the great willow (not evil).
I was right. RESJKB stood by a fountain. For a duck, he was pretty tall.
"Quack!" Was all he said.
"Oh, Robert Eric Smith Jones Kyle Bran," I said exasperatedly, "Shut the Isam up! I'm
sick of your 'duck' language! If I hear it one more time, I will give you the Curse of
Zichmar!
"Jex, I know, I've seen it done. But matter to that, as I hear of rumors of war!"
"Ah, so do I RESJKB. We are going to war with the Metallic Intellect. We're so
desperate the Misa has been considering bringing in the partial-bloods from Stupidity."
"He WHAT?"
"Well, it's not their fault they're impure. Except maybe for Madame Fruitbowl's, he
always has a fascination for inter-racial blood transfusions."
"But that's insane!"
"Look, the Stupidians are stupid. Isam knows Ricky has made it that way. Remember how
we were considering bringing it back into our territory when he arrived?"
"Unfortunately, yes. But we cannot go to war. The Metallic Intellect is highly skilled;
they train all their lives for fighting. We're too peaceful to use any effective weaponry-"
He paused.
"Propaganda, when is the trial of Kyle scheduled to be held?"
"Do you want it to sound convenient?"
"Okay."
"Why, tomorrow!" An evil look crossed RESJKB's face.
"Perfect."

So, there I was. Talking to Xeal, discussing a more important issue than war.
"I hear Ricky's trying to solve a mystery. This could endanger our very existence!" That
was him.
"It's no mystery. Pipfrog and Ricky's old boyfriend Scratches came into his cardboard
box, told him he had a mystery to solve, and left. Ricky then went out looking for clues,
stopping at the drug store. He tried to look for clues in Erid, but we gave him the curse
of Zichmar."
Xeal gasped. The curse of Zichmar is evil. He doesn't like it.
"Anytone, I've been trying to find out what his plot is," I really had. This could turn out
very wrong.
"Oh, I know what it is! Jex! Hukosheryack frotkek Hocho Lemon Meringue gammahucha
donde estan los banos!" He was a very smart cookie. With lots and lots of chocolate
chips, and warm, and he breaks easy. But maybe I was just hungry.
"You know, Xeal, you're right! That's the plot! Um, right over there."

=== === === === ===

Chapter 6: Back to Ricky

I was so happy walking down the street thinking about how I had so many friends.
"Everybody loves me!"
Even Motchu was sad to leave to go to GafildaFred's! I thought I'd go back to the bar
after I went home for some extra change. I walked, and walked, and then realized that I
had passed my house! It was a tricky house, always stayed in the same place, so you had
to go find it. Sometimes it made me mad. I envied Motchu's house. It was just like mine,
but I liked it more. It had a picture of a leaf on a wall!
Anyway, I went back to my home, and walked inside, and got some money. Houses are
stupid!
I decided to go to the bar, but when I got there, everyone was there. Except Motchu,
the person I wanted to see. Damn.
"Oh, hi Ricky!" Andy said boringly, but it wasn't disgust, Andy has always been my second
best friend. "I suppose you don't want to kill yourself and save blah blah blah?"
I laughed. Andy was so caring, almost as much as his long beard, which as soon as it saw
me, leaped and threw me into the air. Andy didn't do Anytone about it, he knew I could
handle it on my own.
"So, Andy, seen any clues?"
"Clues?"
"I need to solve this mystery!"
"M-mystery? You're solving a mystery?" The room had gone quiet.
"Yes, Andy, I thought you knew. Found any clues?"
"What is it about?"
"What?" His question was ringing in my ears like a gremlin rubbing against a lighted
menorah, "I thought everyone knew! RESJKB knows."
"He does?" Andy looked at RESJKB, who looked up from the laptop he was fixing.
"What?"
Andy asked him, "Do you know Ricky's plot?"
RESJKB, "Um, yes. But I can't say it, because Ricky is paying me not to tell Anytone."
"On come on! What is the plot?"
Ricky jumped in; "I'll post one word up on the wall about it every three days. Here is the
first one." I chuckled at my brilant-like plan and put a word up on the wall. Everyone
read it.
"There? That's the word? There!?!?" People were looking at me oddly, as if I was stupid.
"Yes that's the word. You have to wait three days for another!" Then Motchu came in. He
was greeted and struck up a conversation with RESJKB about the laptop, and then asked
Poopenia for something. Then he decided to leave. I wanted to come with him, but he
kindly refused. I sat down, sad.
"It's's ok, you gafildafaggot," Gafildafred assured me, "Motchu is busy."
"I know. I just wish he had more time for me."
"Golly look at the time, I have to prepare a Gafildafeast! See ya!" Everyone else left too.
I sat at the bar, all alone, until the bartender got up from whatever he was doing and
threw me out kindly again. I walked home, singing the song I always sing when I'm sober.
But before I could don a pink bathrobe and a princess hat, the insane asylum people had
caught up to me again.
"Ricky, how'd you escape?"
"Window," I said bitterly as they took me off to the Bloody Good Insane Asylum. It was
times like these when I got mad at Motchu, who never got thrown in the mental house.

Two minutes after I got thrown into the asylum, I escaped through the window again.
Usually the asylum people don't find out I've run away until a few days later, because
they don't feed me or have any contact with me. I went home and finished my song.
Then I decided to go back to my cardboard box and act cool. So I walked to my tall
office and switched back to my Rick Stoopdid mode.
Aha, the evil Pipfrog was waiting for me.

=== === === === ===

Chapter 7: A date with... Pipfrog?!

"Well, you evil fiend, so we meet," I said cunningly. Pipfrog didn't know how to respond
to that, except a simple greeting.
"Say, Ricky, us at the Ricky Haters had been thinking, and, well, we'd like to know if
you could join us for a special dinner this Thursday."
"A DINNER? For ME?" I was overjoyed.
"Yeah, well, if it wasn't for you, there'd BE no Ricky haters, so we decided to throw a
party in your name." I smiled; FINALLY I would get recognition for being Ricky.
"We'll show them!!!!!!!!"

That night Pipfrog picked me up at my unfindable house. However, I wasn't there. I was
looking for him over at the pizza place, where he might go.
"I've been stood up," I walked home, close to tears, when there he was!
"Pipfrog! There you are!" I was so happy to see him, but for some reason, he looked
angry. Maybe he had had a bad night, I dunno.
We walked to the Ricky Haters club, where people were so happy to see me they threw
rocks and other heavy objects at me. Whoopee! I noticed they weren't throwing any at
Pipfrog so I threw things at him to make him feel better.
When we got inside, there were several people standing there with rifles. Aha, body
guards! But they were aimed at me!
"Hey, I'm not THAT much of a party animal!" silly club. Even Motchu was there! I
spotted him in the crowd; he was looking rather worried. But like a doggie bag hangover,
I told him not to worry.
I was led to a large room with posters of me dying. Even decorated for the occasion,
jeez, I had a lot of fans!
They tied me to a podium, with lots of care to cut into my wrist. It was painful, but I
knew they only meant the best care they could give. When I told them this, they looked
constipated, much like Motchu looked a lot of the time.
Suddenly, a riot broke out. Tons of people were coming at me with baseball bats, beating
me senseless. AAAH! RRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!
I dodged a can of beans- wait a second! I LIKE beans! I caught them and ate them
contently. But I was still being bombarded with heavy objects! I sidestepped a feather
and a toilet seat hit my head, causing me to fall down. Then the feet came, oh the feet.
They wouldn't go away, evil fiends. But suddenly an arm caught me and picked me up. It
was Motchu!
"Come on Ricky, let's get you out of here!" He was rescuing me.
I was so proud I started yelling, "OH MOTCHU THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TRYING TO
RESCUE ME! YOU'RE A REAL PAL!" The room fell silent. Motchu looked like he was going
to barf.
"What the hell is he talking about?" Motchu said loudly, then hit me with a shoe. The
commotion started again, this time aimed at Motchu, who was struggling to escape.
Suddenly, I farted.
"FFFFFFFFFFFFFWRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!" everyone stopped. A few people passed out.
Someone threw me out of the room while calling for an ambulance. Poor Motchu.

=== === === === ===

Chapter 8: Motchu makes no sense and leaves too many questions to be answered and
stories to be told much like the X-Files.

Don't get me wrong, I don't often help Ricky, mostly because nobody else likes him. But
the big plan that hatched in the Ricky haters club worried me like I'd never been worried
before. It was an evil one, and I felt sorry Ricky would have to go through it.
"Ha," Pipfrog said in a happy tone and I knew Ricky would scream bloody murder when
Scratches walked down the street.
Then I realized I was telling the story like Ricky, and changed my format.
I wanted to warn him, to tell him he was in danger. The curse took no prisoners, knew no
mercy. Ricky wouldn't be an exception. This plan was terrible, all right.
Maybe the plot to make Ricky scream had been too desperate, but that was to be my big
night, the night I beat the curse of Zichmar. The evil plague of an old Eridian, bent on
placing torture in the awaited idiocy of all time.
We predicted it, us Eridians, and awaited it. We awaited an Idiot, the stupidest person
around. We didn't know when, or where, but we knew the idiot would be among us, and
he/she must be destroyed. So that's why was I worried that fateful afternoon, coming
home from a meeting. We all knew Ricky was the long awaited Idiot, but now what? When
this plan took action, how would we get on with our lives without Ricky?
Apparently the others didn't think of this, because their faces were filled with joy and
relief. I walked home as a wreck. This meeting did not go well. I would certainly enjoy
seeing him scream, of course, but not THIS!!!!!!
I had been hurt many times by my friendship with him. I guess, in an essence, I felt
sorry for him. I didn't want to have any contact with him, but knew others wouldn't
either. He was dangerous, and he didn't know it.
Coincidentally, I ran into Ricky (literally) at my door.
"OUCH! Ricky- WHAT THE?" his hair was done strange. It was pointed out into the
front, like a knife, and I had run into it. I stood there wondering if I could mend the
hole when Ricky spoke.
"I just wanted to tell you that I have a DATE tonight!" He said proudly.
"A what?" This was surprising coming from someone that ate dirt and was afraid of pizza,
"With whom?" I said 'whom' because this was Ricky we're talking about.
"Pipfrog!" Oh no.
"Pipfrog?"
"Pipfrog?"
"Pipfrog!"
"Why?"
"Why?"
"Because?"
"Yes." This was the sort of conversation that we didn't know who was saying what
anymore.
"Uh, where are you meeting him?"
"I don't know!"
"You don't know?"
"LISTEN! I DIDN'T KILL THE FLOWER; IT WAS THAT ERIDIAN SPY! WHY WOULD I
KILL A PLANT THEN RUN FROM THE POLICE THEN COME TO STUPIDITY TO LIVE
FOREVER MORE HIDING FROM EVIL CHEESE NEVER TO RETURN?" Ouch!!!!!!!!!!! Then he
ran away crying. But there were more important matters now! It was up to ME to save
Ricky! I decided to get to the Ricky Haters Club as soon as possible. Ricky's potato
girlfriend wasn't going to be happy about this.

=== === === === ===

Chapter 9: The potato girlfriend.

Wasn't happy about this.

=== === === === ===

Chapter 10: Ricky's letter

I was eager, yes, eager, to get home. Why was I eager to get home? I was eager to get
home. But when I got home in all my eagerness, Motchu wasn't there, sitting under the
tree, eating grapes, as the Follified thoughts of my mind had suggested.
I was eager to get to Motchu's house. Why was I eager to get to Motchu's house? I was
eager to get to Motchu's house. But when I got there, Andy wasn't sitting there,
combing his beard, like I wanted him to.
"Now this is just silly!" What wasn't everyone's at everyone else's house? I made sure I
was in case anyone ever needed me. But Motchu was there, and he looked rather odd.
"Ricky, you wouldn't know anything about a guy from a so-called 'Metallic Intellect'
would you?
"Oh Motchu, you big silly!" What was an intellect?
"I didn't think so, you wouldn't know what an intellect was."
I giggled, "You're so psycho!" But he still looked worried. He nervously handed me an
envelope, and told me not to read it.
"Okay I will!" Motchu socked himself. I tried to sound smart by giving him advice.
"Oh, Motchu, personal abuse is always a problem. You could make life easier by taking
your problems out on others!" I made sure to use extra big words in case he wasn't buying
it.
"Go away."
I went home, and opened my letter.
Dear Richard N. Stoopid,
I ask myself, "What does this army need? How do I supply it with these needs?" What
benefits our colony of the New Metallic Intellect, Mr. Stoopid, is our loyalty.
Sadly, our first runaway was reported last week. It sickens me that we spend our time
and money programming soldiers to fit our every need and desire and they commit treason
and join the very side we wish to eliminate.
We are a country with desires, a country that needs room for people. We cannot colonize
on this hostile land, and not especially when one of our own may be giving the country of
Erid our precious secrets.
To get to the point, we want our spy back. We are asking you, with immense
respectfulness, to do the deed. Detective Stoopid, we are asking you to perform a noble
task. You are to enter the country of Erid and capture our spy. We will then brainwash
him of all his pleasant memories, kill him, and use his body parts to construct a soldier
that is loyal to our cause.
The spy's name is Kyle, and he is currently held prisoner in O'Phyla.
~ Gubric Ubric Fo-Fubric Banana-Fana Fo-Fubric, Fee Fi Fo-Fubric Gubric
I decided to write him a formal letter back, to convince him I was his Detective.
Dere Gubic uri ricub banafanatic foofoo fee fye FO fubiction Gubric,
Oki dokee!
Well, that was good.

=== === === === ===

Chapter 11: More perspectives and even more 3rd person narrative

The jail in Erid wasn't that bad. It was cold, dark, and rather uncomfortable, but at
least Kyle had it to itself (once he put that skeleton in the closet). Sigh.
Anyway, what did it matter? He was going to rot here anyway. He couldn't help but think
of how much more sanitary this jail was then his own small bunk in the MI territory. The
cells in the MI were very compact, with many people to a room (it was perhaps like our
jails, except they weren't criminals, just prisoners to the country). This cell was rather
nice.
However, in the Metallic Intellect territory, General Any Asenhowefelder (they had very
long names in the MI) was learning of Kyle's disappearance. He was tall and thin, and
rather boring to look at (as most of the MIs were).
"What what what?" he yelled, "They captured an MI spy? What the hammer was he
doing?"
"Th-thir," exclaimed his nervous assistant Kayanglanginestintashientis, "The Eridians don't
like uth there. They knew he was a thpy because of hith name."
Asenhowefelder sighed, " This could be the end of us all… and yet, the beginning. We
have plenty of spies; there's no shortage of them. But I fear he shall tell the foes of
our deeds, and they shall be angered." He paused, "How long has it been since the New
Metallic Intellect was created? Three hundred years? We have waited three hundred years
for this, for a spy to have unknown strength and refuse to succumb to our training.
"I recall, as a trainee, my master telling me of a time where one will betray our cause
and start his own - the cause of the death of us all. This Kyle must be the One. He has
brothers, of which I have had contact with. His father is a General on the main Metallic
Intellect, and thinks highly of his firstborn. I wonder how highly he will think of his son
when he finds we have been corrupted! The children, they will be tainted."
The Metallic Intellect really lived on an Island, but they had captured a small portion of
Erid a long time ago (New Metallic Intellect). This is where the MI General stood.
He could see far off into the distance, and the dim outline of Ortsac's head in Stupidity.
He'd always wondered if the MI could ally with the Stupidians and take Erid. He must
not have realized that there was a reason Eridians stayed away from them.
Asenhowefelder turned to look into the city of New Metallic Intellect. It was a dry,
treeless portion (Good thing too, he said, too much oxygen), and two MI guards stood at
the entrance. Everywhere you looked in the city there were either buildings or guards.
Asenhowefelder knew his way around enough to tell all the buildings apart (this would be
very difficult for you or me) and marched up to a very ugly building with a very large
doorknocker, and knocked.
It took several moments for someone to answer, but when he did, Asenhowefelder forgot
all about his impatience and bowed. At the door was an extremely fat, big-eyed man with
hair that must have been at least three feet tall, which made up for his short size.
"Ah, Gubric," Asenhowefelder stepped inside, "I was hoping you would answer the door. I
have very important business to discuss." Gubric let the General to a large room. It was
well furnished in gray, not exactly as interesting as it's sheer vastness. From the outside,
it looked like a small building, but really all the buildings were connected to create rooms,
no, halls such as this. Camouflage you'd call it.
"General Asenhowefelder, just the man I wanted to see."
"And why is that, Gubric?"
"I have had a talk with Stupidian's finest."
"Really?"
"Yes. I went to Stupidity, and asked to see their most important leader. When they
heard I was from the Metallic Intellect they ran and sent me a young prophet by the
name of Ricky Stoopid."
"Ricky Stoopid? Doesn't sound very smart."
"You'd be surprised. He's a detective. He's promised to do some spying under... er...
certain conditions."
"What are these conditions, Din Gubric?"
"General, we wouldn't happen to have any women's attire at hand, would we?"

Meanwhile, back in Erid, someone was running towards a large field of Eridian
Honeysuckle. Upon entering the field, you would find that it wasn't a field at all, but an
Eridian military base called Herasines. The person was just arriving for a day's work. His
name was Flim, and he was one of Erid's finest lawyers.
The lawyers in Erid are much different then human ones; they don't get paid (who
does?), act more as detectives, and run the military. To be truthful, there was no
military, as all the warfare in Erid came from vegetables thrown by the residents
themselves.
Flim worked with his partner, Flannel, at their law firm at Herasines. They were famous,
and handled all of the crime cases (there were none). So the morning was pretty boring.
He watered the honeysuckle, stood guard for a couple of hours, and tossed around a
Dileke. It was just like a Marfent, but for the Metallic Intellect. They carried those
around so that the MIs wouldn't fight them.
But anyway, as Flim was rubbing his head after missing a catch of the hard rock, Flannel
careened into him. He could hardly speak, and he looked exited yet scared.
"War! Kyle! Trial! Case! Did I mention war? What about a spy? There will be a trial
tomorrow, we actually have a case WE HAVE A CASE!!!!!" He continued on, finally stopping
for a breather when his face had turned purple.
I broke the sudden silence. "Oh."
He never explained anything, just grabbed my stick arm (almost breaking it off) and ran,
ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran,
ran, ran, excuse me when I begin to sound redundant.
The honeysuckle fields ended, and a bare coastline stretched on for a long while. If I
looked to the South I could see a hint of a dust cloud, 50 miles away in the Land of
Darn. I knew that on the other side of that vast desert there was Fasia and the quaint
town of Fieldage, where Xeal did Erid's dirty work, and a little east of that would be the
gulf of Ortsac, then The Stupidian peninsula.
We came to a river, a very large river, one that we had never named. It leads to Speel
Falls, and near that lake Geena. A few miles away would be Buga-_Mocha, Erid's culture
center.
Then came the toughest part of our journey. We stopped near the boundaries of the New
Metallic Intellect (A Very hard place to Cross. Actually, that's the name of it). We
crossed in complete silence, and I was glad that the war fiends of the colony couldn't
hear my thoughts. They wanted to take over my land. In the distance there was the
mountains, and the forests, and west of those, Nothing. The largest section of our
Eridian territory was Nothing. If the MIs took over, they would make it into something.
Something like a military base, or a housing space for their slaves. And, say they took
over Nothing, they would take over what was west of Nothing, Sharaselum. Then the
Saran keys. I despised the MIs and all they were worth.
My great friend and partner Flannel and I, we passed these things, and wondered if we
ever would again. O' Phyla was our destination, Kyle the Croissant was held there.

=== === === === ===

Chapter 12: Kyle the Croissant's too short trial.

I would soon be leaving this place, the lawyer told me. I'd leave to either die, be tortured in a
town called Stupidity, or face the greatest time of my life as an Eridian citizen. I, of course,
prayed for the latter option and told him I understood.
The lawyer said his name was Flim, and his partner Flannel was talking to Oun ii Tiil about holding
off a trial for a few days. He'd say, The one with the hair gets all the luck, and change the
subject.
However, as the inexperienced Flim tried to quickly build a case, he was interrupted by a bumbling,
grumpy duck. The same one who had arrested me.
"Eh? Is he still alive? Hasn't been executed? Excellent. We need his mind." Oh no. Not my mind.
That couldn't be it; that was something General Asenhowefelder would say.
"You can't have my mind."
"Look, drone, if we can't use your mind, we can't win the war." War?
"I came here so people would stop using my mind."
"We can just as well put you back."
"Never." This argument continued, until Flannel returned.
Flim greeted him, "So, full head of hair, what does Oun ii Tiil say?"
Flannel paused, "The trial has not been held off - we have nine hours. Be there or be octagons."

Trial hour came upon us sooner than nine hours, it seemed. Flim frantically asked me questions,
Flannel griped about the lack of time, and RESJKB sulked in the corner. It wasn't a nice party to
be with on possibly the last day of your life. But Company they were, none the less.
The last hour was wonderful. Flim put down his notes, and stated he had done what he could, and
unless Oun ii Tiil found reason not to kill me on the spot, my life was over.
I laid back, and he just talked. Talked about his journey across Nothing, and his sails on the
Great Ship Sheila the Genius, and his visits to the town of Fieldage where the comical Xeal kept
them busy with all sorts of work, the only sorts of work that seem to get done.
He told me of the gulf of Ortsac, that contained no water, but Ortsac himself, who's head was
larger then the setting sun. He talked of the seven moons, none of which were visible from the
Metallic Intellect.
And Sharaselum, who's beauty almost matched that of the view from the highest mountains, where
he traveled in his younger days. I longed to see these things, to experience them, before I left.
Before my time ran out. But, alas, that one short hour ended, and I found myself facing my
destiny, way too early for my taste, and I remembered this as I entered the unused court room.
Oun ii Tiil, oh Oun ii Tiil, was a great man. He looked honest yet stern, like I imagined a King
should look. Nexy to him sat Ya li A Calliope, his wife, who was here before him.
"Kyle, welcome to history. You are the first to ever be trialed here." I'd never realized how
peaceful the Eridians were.
"I am aware of the circumstances, and I am in no need of a defense of any kind." A murmur of
question ran through the crowd.
Flim spoke up; "I worked eight hours on this, read it."
"Do not question my decision. I am not stupid, and with war coming the last thing I can do is be
so. No defense is needed; my verdict has been reached. You, Flim, can be the second held on trial
here if you continue to disagree." I decided to speak up.
"D-don't I get a final statement?"
Oun ii Tiil laughed, "Do you want one?"
"Yessir."
"Go ahead."
"S-sir, I don't know whether I'll be alive tomorrow. But if I am, and alive after that, and if I am
allowed to stay in the wonderful land, well, please don't use my brain for warfare." Where did
that come from?
Oun ii Tiil again smiled, "Well, Kyle, you will be alive tomorrow."
"I will?"
"That is when we will carry out your sentence." Oh.

=== === === === ===

Chapter 13: Ricky interrupts

I just want you all to know, I'm the important one! Me! Me me me me me me me me me me me me
me me! If it wasn't for me, there would be no you!
I thought these things as I embarked on my dangerous mission. Gubric had given me instructions to
escape this city. I tried to remember them. Number one: walk through the forest. I leaped into
the ocean and swam around it. Two: Walk around the mountains. I walked through, leaving a hole.
This was easy!
I was on my own after that. I had constructed a map of what I thought Erid looked like, but it
proved to be slightly inaccurate. I couldn't find the land of the pretty pink teddy bears anywhere!
Luckily I reached a barren, uninhabited desert. There would be tons of people here!

I traveled (rather reluctantly) to a Ricky-Hater's meeting, held strangely in the woods, outside of
the town. When I arrived, Pipfrog looked grave.
"It has come to my attention that the country of Erid has gone to war with the Metallic Intellect."
Yeah, I knew that.
"We must hold off our plan to make Ricky scream in preparation to ally with a side."
"What side?" Pipfrog looked evil.
"Well, the Metallic Intellect thinks Ricky is some kind of prophet. We could, I suppose, ally with
Erid, but tell Ricky we're siding with the MIs. That is our plan."
"The Eridians hate us."
"Oh." There was a silence. But we knew what we had to do. We would fight aside Erid whether
they wanted us or not! I knew why Erid despised us so much. I was told, when I was young, I was
to live in Erid. But Ricky, wretched Ricky, came along and I was banished. Banished to this putrid
existence, and a world I did not belong in, never to return to the land I longed for, the one I
prayed for. That wretched Ricky, he would scream for this. WRETCHED RICKY! YOU WILL PAY,
RICHARD NANCY STOOPID! YOUR VOCAL CHORDS, THEY ARE MINE! I WILL DISPLAY THOSE
TERRIBLE TOKENS AS PROOF OF YOUR BITTER MALEXISTENCE, AND LAUGH! LAUGH, YOU
HEAR ME?

What had I remembered? What was happening? Anybody there? My words seemed to echo off of
the walls, and nobody could hear them. Were these my thoughts? Was I dreaming? No, I could
feel things, the bed in the jail cell. In O'Phyla. I was still here. But I couldn't move. Was that
mumbling, in the distance? How far was it, a mile? They, they were talking about me. Again. The
third time they'd talked about me, since, since the trial. When was that? It seemed like two years
ago, yet two seconds also. A cry, who cried? It sounded so close…

His sentence had been carried out. Kyle's, I mean. He spent his last hours staring at the wall,
thoughts escaping him. He went happily though; Erid is a wonderful place to die, even in pain. The
jail cell must have been a luxury for such a deprived being.
Do I sound morbid? Well, it's not what you'd expect. In Erid we don't go killing people like this.
In fact, Kyle didn't die. You see, the Curse of Zichmar works two ways… when I became Oun ii
Tiil, that day long ago, I too was cast with such a terrible curse. As a test.
An old Eridian, Zichmar, thought different than the rest. He thought war, plagues, and things
indescribable. He thought he was smart, he thought he knew more, and claimed an island for
himself.
No, he didn't call it the Metallic Intellect. He named it the Island of Naynoo. I do not know what
it meant in his own language, but I can assure you it was terrible. He established a colony of
slaves, people who would do what he desired when he desired it. Zichmar strived to achieve
immortality through his followers, yet he never did, as he soon died in the First battle. Before he
did this, he cursed his land, and anybody who entered it.
Yet, he wasn't as smart as he sounded. Zichmar's curse could only send an Eridian, true Eridian,
to pieces for a few days, a month at the most. It proved to be a test of faith, and a test of
strength. And so, Oun ii Tiil, which was not my first name, had to take this test. And so does
every accused fugitive.
Of course, we realized the flaws in casting this curse on Kyle. He was from the Metallic Intellect,
one of Zichmar's blood, and cursed down to the bone. But he was also the first case where we
knew he didn't deserve it. Nobody does.
It may take, we fear, weeks for Kyle to recover. But he isn't dead. His last hours as a true MI
have deceased.

His MI attire long gone, his eyesight taken, his hearing lost, Kyle the Croissant resided at Xeal's
home. Xeal wasn't too happy about this. Propaganda had been spending too much time with Kyle, as
if he were an old friend. But Xeal knew this couldn't be the case. Propaganda didn't know MI
folk, couldn't know them. There was only one other possibility.
If you asked Xeal if he was jealous, he would say yes. Kyle had a knack for making friends, even
in his disabled and strange state. But Propaganda, spending all her time here, was a test to his
state of mind. Sometimes, at night, Xeal would tiptoe to the spot of the floor where Kyle lay
(didn't want him to feet the vibrations of Xeal's footsteps) and stare at him, trying to drill a hole
through him with Xeal's stares. He was chained to the wall so he wouldn't try anything. He
couldn't complain, even if he wanted to. He was happy being with Propaganda, and that angered
Xeal. Kyle shouldn't be happy. Not after his slavery, or his imprisonment, not after the curse, and
not while he's chained to an unwelcome wall without neither hearing nor sight.

=== === === === ===

Chapter 14: People involved in this whole thing say stuff.

RESJKB
Am I too harsh? I mean, being a duck, I'm self-conscious about what people say and do,
but honestly. Was the whole Kyle-dying thing my fault? Timot_He suggests so.
Well, I was having a bad day! I was sitting with a mute guy for two hours trying to strike
up a conversation. So really, you can't blame ME for any of this, right? Well, he
could've been stealing Propaganda's mallets.

Propaganda
Damn that RESJKB. Like I would really care if the spy took my mallets. What would he
do with them, anyway? Beat the tomatoes thrown at him?
Kyle's a good kid, I guess, but his hat scares me. Blue things scare me. The sky scares
me. Little blue dogs really scare me.

Della
Now where's my shovel again?

Kyle (days later)
Writing opinions doesn't work. I think Propaganda is scared of me. RESJKB is insensitive.
Flim is clueless. Flannel is clueless, but he has hair. Oun ii Tiil has too much wisdom.
Xeal keeps griping about how much this will cost him in working hours, then hands me
money to stay sick like this. I think I'm going to pass out now.

Marty
Owwww! Mah back is killing me!

Motchu
We're going to war, and all you care about is that stupid spy? Slice his head off, it
doesn't matter! The matter, it is the MIs! We're at war! That wretched Ricky! That fiend!
Never again will I tolerate his ungraceful tomfoolery! The time of our friendship is over!

Ricky
Sssh! No one knows I'm here! Not even you! You don't know I'm here. If you did then
you'd be talking to me. No you're not. Are not! Yeah huh! You're so stupid.

Mark
Darn NTL!

=== === === === ===

Chapter 15: Short Chapter and a gaggle of peppers

Ah ha! I found a can of beans on the sand, in the desert. All I could see for miles was a
sign that said, "You are in the Land of Darn." But it wouldn't tell me where I was! Darn!
I walked on, for years it seemed, but months it seemed like more. And finally, as the
dust cleared, I saw a small shack, sitting on a hill. Luckily, there was a shack sitting on a
hill.
Like a parade of intestines I scrambled up the hill, and found what I'd been looking for.
A desk boasting a gaggle of peppers! The best desert food I could think of.
A farmer type person was sitting in a chair.
"What are you doing here?" Hurumph.
"I think you should be asking what am I doing here!" Ooh, great comeback. I'd have to
remember that one.
"This is my house of jalapenios!" What's a jalupanos? Ooh he must not speak my language.
I tried to speak his.
"Geezack nyafootage kabooage!" The strange man looked offended!
He had a badge pinned on his shirt. It read "Dr. Wastaki." I wondered what his name
was.
The man walked towards me, and grabbed me by my hair.
"This shall teach you to slander the queen of all that is bandaged and wounded!" Silly guy!
What was a queen?

=== === === === ===

Chapter 16: Mindless talking by someone unmentioned

'It came as a wonder to me what they had seen that frightened them so, for a golden cow in the clouds is not a frightening thing. It was a thing that I do neither like nor dislike, a great golden cow, which was the reason I called the meeting of the Groundwalls.
'Few of them, I found, used commas as much as I did. This was very unnerving to me, because, I, like, commas, and, I, want, to, associate, with, people, who, enjoy, their, splendor, as, much, as, I, do!
'The night was a terrifying night for the unknown people I inquired, for they had seen and heard news of an execution. Every Metallic Intellect child under the age of seventeen was to be savagely burned at stake. I soon discovered the connexion between this and the golden cow, which I do not have the presence or authority to explain here.
'Terribly dark it was then; the moons were missing from their usual places. This was due to the fact that I had ventured too far into the Metallic Intellect - I could not see them. Though my life I had been guided by their light, and I found myself without that very comfort as I watched the _expression of the young messenger's face as he told me of the news.
'Three had deserted. They were all young, younger then the spy in the rumors, and my suspicions of the torture going on in the place were aroused once again. Am I making too much sense for you? I am dreadfully remorseful about that, I will make large attempts nay to do it a more.
'Nights passed since the trees grew red, and my confined space under the lakebed grew seemingly smaller, as if a person were staring at me through glass. Many moons later the descriptive wiffle would tell someone else that things were amiss in Shareselum, and Nothing was regaining Something. Something was wrong, and Nothing was more so.
'The smell of the most disgusting cracker ever filled the air above Lake Geena, yelch. And they asked me, who was I that they were telling their life's story to? Was I the author of this pointless tale? Or was I Ricky, master of the sissies? I denied the latter, and the previous was not correct, however absurd you may think it sounds.
'I am the lurker of Darn, the namer of Cities, and the bringer of tales. To hear my words is to hear words of me telling you to hear my words. Hear them. Hear them. Finish hearing them and skip to the next chapter.
'They heard, but the ceased to understand. To understand to hear my words, and the words themselves, made more sense then even the golden cow, nor the beam of light and the voice like thunder.
'My thoughts were dark, as dark as the night sky, but the cow in the distance brought peace. No, not peace to the village it bore over, or the river it passed, but peace to itself. Peace is a beautiful thing, and cows shan't bring it unless they are golden and in the air.
'Your thoughts are primitive when you think of the old days, when things were majestic and simple, now is now. I know. I know things. To post another word, Ricky that is, is dangerous, and if he does it the destruction of him will suffice, although that won't be the first time. Never is. Time is growing shorter, the days are dragging themselves out, and blue walls are wandering through the city like garbage of steel. I still recall the days when sense seemed the right, and I seemed the left.
'But wrong are the ones who say I am not right, you are not the blue garbage of steel, nor the golden cow over Buga-_Mocha, nor the spy of O'Phyla, unless you are. Do you wish to be? Have you not read this tale? Who wishes to be blind and deaf, who wishes to die upon themselves in terrible ways, without notice of ones self nor feelings towards another because it is not possible? Were we all to be this way?
'Twaah, and moo ha ha, but never twaah woid. That is too dangerous put together if you know the moons of Sharaselum, or the grasses of Fieldage. I will fight for the days of my life, my ever shortening life, but naught as so the days of the lives of the cow, for the cow is not alive, nor is meant to be so. Inconclusive are my findings. Terribly.
'Perhaps my ramblings are naught near long enough for your ears to bear, and for this I regret. But I must go, go to tell the tale of them, and the men in blue are advancing on myself, bearing the title of the bloody good asylum, for I am a fugitive of myself and the gold cow, they will destroy me.'

=== === === === ===

Chapter 17: An attempt to thicken the plot

Why ask such a pointless question? Of course I knew of Mr. Stoopid's idiocy. Oh, at first I though he was just a little crazy. But as soon as he borrowed his friend's toilet and blew it up, I knew he was more (or less) than that.
I was struck with a dilemma of the worst kind. Should I, Gubric Ubric Rubric (and so on), lie to my commander and risk death, or suffer a certain loss of the war to come? General Asenhowefelder was strong, brave, but also careless. I could win this war, and do a great thing for the Metallic Intellect. But what did I care for them? Was I not just a traveler from a land far from here? These thoughts plagued me for what could have been days, but rather were hours. After that time, I knew what I had to do. I detest these lands, these people, and I was ready to destroy the very army I had worked so hard to build. The time for innocence was over, I wanted the MI dead, I wanted Erid dead, and I wanted Stupidity dead. They couldn't last with the involvement of Ricky Stoopid. He would kill them all, and wouldn't know he was doing so.
I worked alone on my plan, telling no one of my desires. There was one thing I knew, just one, that could ruin the three countries. It was the involvement of Kyle. I would offer him something he couldn't resist, and in return he would pull the last stitches of the great peace blanket. The Eridians would trust him; it was their nature.
I would find a way to get Kyle. I just had to make sure he wouldn't run crying to his leader. He wasn't one of us anymore, the blind (and deaf) fool, and I found myself wondering if I could ever trust anyone to help me.
The biggest challenge, of course, was leading the general on, convincing him Ricky could capture Kyle. Ricky couldn't capture a flower in daylight, nevertheless a run-away spy at the other side of Erid.
I had gained the General's trust in the seventh battle, and earned my position in the tenth. I know the general, he is evil and cunning, but I am more still (yes, I admit I'm evil). I will begin my EVIL conspiracy at moonrise!

=== === === === ===

Chapter 18: The last straw

Propaganda, where are you? You were not around today. I searched by the side of the one who can't see. He thought I was you… but I'm me. Propaganda I love you. You may not know it, but believe. I hear your voice; you hear mine too. I should like you to stay. But Propaganda you can't leave. If you could hear me now, what would you say? So many precious years ago my heart gave way, melted like snow, and I knew it was you, Propaganda who I'll be with and I'll never go away.
But someone, someone sleeping in this very room, has taken her time, her affection. Propaganda how could you give attention to the one who is deaf and is blind? Propaganda… I thought you knew. 'Twas the love of all loves; it was ours. We watched as it flourished and grew.

Xeals stood over Kyle, tears pouring from his eyes as he kicked the MI awake.

Xeal? Why did you wake me at this late hour?

Well Kyle, I'll tell you the whole truth. Though you cannot hear it you shall die.

Xeal drew his sword (though Kyle didn't know it) and brought a fatal blow to the MI's stomach, and after lingering for a second, Kyle the Croissant died as Propaganda watched from the doorway.


You of all of us should know! You have let the largest Wiffle die. Oh, you could've handled this right but no. Now you've killed my long lost brother from the MI. Xeal, how could you be this foolish? Xeal, the blood is on your hands!

See Propaganda I did a good deed. See how the MI does not bleed?

Why? Why does my brethren not bleed? He was of my kin and you've parted his skin but he's empty inside? Xeal, have you gone mad, they'll skin your hide!

Let us see Propaganda what lies within? You say this MI scum is your kin? Propaganda pure indeed! Propaganda DO YOU BLEED?

Xeal aimed a swipe of his sword at her head, but Propaganda ducked and ran, and was never seen in those parts again. And Xeal laughed insanely as flames rose around him, engulfed him and the body of what was Kyle the Croissant… and their ashes rose over the gulf of Ortsac and were smitten down by rain.

Taran glyni sera frohjoli
Gyi hu lan whaai Eridie
Ina linda carant hu
Mya nerebeth en loud anghyu
That's IT! No more sitcoms for YOU, young lady!

The End (of part one that is)