out.
The Cuddlywumpus mewed. It blinked its eyes at me as I approached the machines.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," I said. "I just want to know why Fanny keeps you locked away down here. You must be very important for her to keep you secret from everyone."
The Cuddlywumpus snuffled. It slapped its tentacles against the floor out of nervousness. To inspect the machines, I had to turn my back on the Cuddlywumpus. The beast appeared to be gentle enough. Timid, even.
The machines possessed no monitors, no gauges, no buttons or levers. I reached out to touch one and my hand passed right through. The machines were blocks of color that possessed the physical immateriality of vapors exhaled from mouths on chilly evenings.
I reached for one of the ropes. Unlike the machines, the ropes were solid matter.
The Cuddlywumpus mewed again.
"Hold on, I only want to know whether something is going into you or out." I felt along the rope. "Hm . . . it's coming out of you." I looked at the Cuddlywumpus and scratched the top of my head. "What is coming out of you?"
The Cuddlywumpus averted its eyes.
I followed the algae-textured hose to the golden, immaterial machine connected up to it. I raised the hose to my mouth and chomped down.
I tasted maple syrup.
Maple syrup was being milked out of the Cuddlywumpus.
Where could all this maple syrup go?
The sea, I realized. Nowhere but the sea.
Something popped behind me. I spun around. The dungeon was filling with green balloons. They were identical to the balloons I'd seen Fanny release into the sky. The balloons floated through the dungeon darkness, vanishing. Wobbling, silent orbs. Like pickled spirits.
I circled the Cuddlywumpus to its backside and discovered that the balloons were emerging from the cuddlywumpus.
Above me, beyond vision, the balloons popped in a rat-tat sequence.
I remembered that Fanny Fod could come home at any time and I had no idea how long I'd been down there, so I patted a furry tentacle and left the dungeon, befuddled by my discovery.
*
I spaced out on the roof for the rest of the day. I looked up at some point and Fanny Fod was standing over me. Neither of us said anything. She wasn't really smiling, though she tried, and I knew I was trying, and failing, to smile as well.
"Did you have a good day?" I said.
"I've been home for a while," she said. "Have you enjoyed yourself?"
"Yes, thank you for breakfast this morning. It was the best breakfast I've ever had. I invented a shimmy in honor of it. Would you like to see?"
"The Cuddlywumpus is feeling unwell. I'm going down to the dungeon to stay with it awhile. I love the Cuddlywumpus so much. I can't stand to see it feel bad."
You don't love the Cuddlywumpus, I thought. Nobody would lock up something they love in a dungeon and then hook it to a bunch of machines to milk it of their goodness.
I retracted that thought. I couldn't think that way about Fanny. I knew she was only thinking of the greater good, if such a thing existed. I knew she was pure at heart and simply doing what she thought best, even if what was best to her seemed cruel and irrational.
"Would you like dinner in a while?" she said.
"Dinner would be fabulous."
A question formed on her peanut butter lips. She lowered her blueberry eyes. I sat up, my heart palpitating. My guts ached. Get it over with, I thought. Ask your question and crush me. You know I'm a bug. I'm not worthy of you, so end this quickly, gently. I will say I understand and politely return to my pickled plight.
"I'll be in the dungeon. Come inside in a while," she said. "Dinner will be waiting."
She left. I lay back and studied the green sky. I had done that. I was responsible for that. I had turned the sky green and killed a few pancakes, but even in my evil ways, I was better than these pancakes. I cared whether I was doing right or wrong. I deliberated every word and action. Happy pancakes cared as little about the moralistic value of their actions as
The Cuddlywumpus mewed. It blinked its eyes at me as I approached the machines.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," I said. "I just want to know why Fanny keeps you locked away down here. You must be very important for her to keep you secret from everyone."
The Cuddlywumpus snuffled. It slapped its tentacles against the floor out of nervousness. To inspect the machines, I had to turn my back on the Cuddlywumpus. The beast appeared to be gentle enough. Timid, even.
The machines possessed no monitors, no gauges, no buttons or levers. I reached out to touch one and my hand passed right through. The machines were blocks of color that possessed the physical immateriality of vapors exhaled from mouths on chilly evenings.
I reached for one of the ropes. Unlike the machines, the ropes were solid matter.
The Cuddlywumpus mewed again.
"Hold on, I only want to know whether something is going into you or out." I felt along the rope. "Hm . . . it's coming out of you." I looked at the Cuddlywumpus and scratched the top of my head. "What is coming out of you?"
The Cuddlywumpus averted its eyes.
I followed the algae-textured hose to the golden, immaterial machine connected up to it. I raised the hose to my mouth and chomped down.
I tasted maple syrup.
Maple syrup was being milked out of the Cuddlywumpus.
Where could all this maple syrup go?
The sea, I realized. Nowhere but the sea.
Something popped behind me. I spun around. The dungeon was filling with green balloons. They were identical to the balloons I'd seen Fanny release into the sky. The balloons floated through the dungeon darkness, vanishing. Wobbling, silent orbs. Like pickled spirits.
I circled the Cuddlywumpus to its backside and discovered that the balloons were emerging from the cuddlywumpus.
Above me, beyond vision, the balloons popped in a rat-tat sequence.
I remembered that Fanny Fod could come home at any time and I had no idea how long I'd been down there, so I patted a furry tentacle and left the dungeon, befuddled by my discovery.
*
I spaced out on the roof for the rest of the day. I looked up at some point and Fanny Fod was standing over me. Neither of us said anything. She wasn't really smiling, though she tried, and I knew I was trying, and failing, to smile as well.
"Did you have a good day?" I said.
"I've been home for a while," she said. "Have you enjoyed yourself?"
"Yes, thank you for breakfast this morning. It was the best breakfast I've ever had. I invented a shimmy in honor of it. Would you like to see?"
"The Cuddlywumpus is feeling unwell. I'm going down to the dungeon to stay with it awhile. I love the Cuddlywumpus so much. I can't stand to see it feel bad."
You don't love the Cuddlywumpus, I thought. Nobody would lock up something they love in a dungeon and then hook it to a bunch of machines to milk it of their goodness.
I retracted that thought. I couldn't think that way about Fanny. I knew she was only thinking of the greater good, if such a thing existed. I knew she was pure at heart and simply doing what she thought best, even if what was best to her seemed cruel and irrational.
"Would you like dinner in a while?" she said.
"Dinner would be fabulous."
A question formed on her peanut butter lips. She lowered her blueberry eyes. I sat up, my heart palpitating. My guts ached. Get it over with, I thought. Ask your question and crush me. You know I'm a bug. I'm not worthy of you, so end this quickly, gently. I will say I understand and politely return to my pickled plight.
"I'll be in the dungeon. Come inside in a while," she said. "Dinner will be waiting."
She left. I lay back and studied the green sky. I had done that. I was responsible for that. I had turned the sky green and killed a few pancakes, but even in my evil ways, I was better than these pancakes. I cared whether I was doing right or wrong. I deliberated every word and action. Happy pancakes cared as little about the moralistic value of their actions as
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