The Cuddlywumpus was beginning its new life as a tree. Someday it would blossom and grow edible fruit. For now it would sleep.
I had one last thing to do before parting from her lips.
I dug my hand into the peanut butter and carved a gigantic U.
I stood and stepped back to evaluate my work. I had intended to scrawl Captain Pickle’s motto on the surface of her lips as a reminder to all future life, if there should be life, of the absolute necessity to march forth, to overcome the common struggle of all creatures no matter the cost. You did not have to be a pickle to understand what Captain Pickle meant when he said, “Unchain yourself from your briny fate, oh pickled prisoner!”
It struck me that when the Cuddlywumpus bloomed or life emerged elsewhere, fate would no longer haunt the creatures of the World of Fod, for with the creation of this world, fate dissolved. And that meant I was finally free.
I dug into her lips again and gave the U a tail, transforming it into a Y that stretched for miles. I worked for days without rest, trudging inch by inch to etch my new message into her peanut butter lips.
YOU ARE FREE.
My work here was finished. I had the rest of her body to sculpt.
In the wintertime of her universe, I floated on.
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The Pickled Apocalypse of Pancake Island Page 7
