The Pickled Apocalypse of Pancake Island by Cameron Pierce

someone else's bed, I sprang up, ran to the rooftop, and shouted to the world, "Peace be with you!"
    I felt every atom burst in pancake peace and harmony. I wanted to bless everyone.
    "Pancake love for all!"
    Restful sleep had also invigorated my curiosity, which was perfect because Fanny was out and I had the entire zucchini castle to explore. The starting point was obvious. I'd have to check out the dungeon and see the Cuddlywumpus for myself. It was true that Fanny Fod had kicked me out of her castle after the Cuddlywumpus started howling during our initial encounter, but maybe sleeping together counted as a rite of passage that granted me permission to witness the wonders of the mysterious Cuddlywumpus.
    I giggled like a little pancake as I ran back into the castle and took the spiral staircase down to the kitchen. On the counter, Fanny Fod had left me two bottles of beer and a plate of peanut butter pancakes made from her smile. I did a shimmy dance across the kitchen, surprising even myself. It felt good to wake up somewhere you belonged. Even breathing was a pleasant, exciting activity. I popped open a beer, took a sip, ate two pancakes, and rubbed my belly. This was the ultimate breakfast. If every breakfast were a nation, no breakfast in the history of breakfasts could lay a finger on this one. It was a utopian breakfast.
    I ate another pancake, rubbed my belly, and polished off the first beer. It was very resourceful of Fanny to use only ingredients from her own body. It was resourceful and she did it well.
    I patted my stuffed belly and did a sluggish shimmy. I decided to name this one. I named it The Great and Beautiful Breakfast Empire. I thought maybe I would show it to Fanny Fod when she got home as a thank you for breakfast.
    I heard the Cuddlywumpus snuffling behind the dungeon door and decided I should have a look. Fanny never mentioned when she might return. I put my ear to the door. There was a soft, ruffling sound. It sounded like the Cuddlywumpus was right behind the door and I had startled it. "Excuse me," I said, knocking. "May I come in?"
    The Cuddlywumpus did not reply. I slowly reached for the doorknob until my hand grasped its green handle. I held my hand there for a while before turning it. Although I failed to see how a pancake as kind and generous and beautiful as Fanny Fod could keep a dangerous pet around, there was the off chance.
    Pickles used to keep sad and dangerous pets all the time, not because they had any use for sad and dangerous pets. In our part of the universe, rubber monsters fell out of the sky rather often. When pickles encountered these monsters, they did not know what to do with them, so they put them in soggy boxes and called them pets. They took the rubber monsters home and made them into pets because they did not know what else to do with them, and sometimes the rubber monsters became sad and dangerous pets.
    The Cuddlywumpus sounded sad the first day. I felt pretty certain it would not be one of those pets that was sad and dangerous, though. This was a happy place, after all. Now that I was happy there was nothing to fear.
    I swung open the dungeon door.
    A tentacle whipped around my waist and yanked me into the air. The tentacle laid me down on a floor made of bacon vultures. The tentacle recoiled from me. I was dizzy and nauseated. I puked up the utopian breakfast.
    I looked up at the Cuddlywumpus. It was a giant shagpuff, hunched over and covered in furry tentacles. Each tentacle ended in an ear. Looking closely, I saw a mouth inside every ear and a hand inside every mouth. Its face was flat as a pancake's and blank except for two black button eyes. When the Cuddlywumpus cried out yesterday, it must have cried out from the mouths inside the ears on the tips of the tentacles. The Cuddlywumpus was hooked up to colorful machines. Pulsing green hoses ran from the Cuddlywumpus to the machines. They were either pumping something into the Cuddlywumpus or pumping something