Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo

by Obert Skye

  “Don’t eat it,” Leven warned.

  “How about some of that stuff I gave you at sea?” Clover asked. “Filler Crisps. I still have a whole box left.”

  “That’s okay,” Winter said. “I’m not doing that again. Don’t you have anything chocolate?”

  Clover reached deep into his void, his tongue at the corner of his mouth as he stretched. He smiled and pulled his arm slowly back out. In his tiny hand he held a long, thin, foil-wrapped bar of candy. The foil wrapper was dull under the weak light. On the front there was a single word: Slub.

  “This sounds harmless.” Clover shrugged.

  He slowly unwrapped the candy and the aroma of chocolate filled the room. There were four small squares hooked together.

  “What does it do?” Winter asked.

  “I picked it up while we were with the Eggmen,” Clover said excitedly. “I think it’s new.”

  “It smells fantastic,” Geth said.

  “I don’t know,” Winter hesitated. “Slub sounds kind of dubious.”

  “More for me, then,” Clover said happily, breaking off a square and popping it in his mouth. As Clover chewed his blue eyes grew wide. He licked his small lips and began reaching for a second piece.

  “No way.” Winter grabbed a square. “I get one.”

  “I’ll take one too,” Geth said.

  Clover held the last square of chocolate in his hand. He looked at it lustfully and licked his lips.

  “I guess if you don’t really want it . . .” Clover said to Leven.

  “No, wait,” Leven said, watching Geth and Winter eat theirs.

  “Wow,” Winter gasped. “That’s the best chocolate I’ve ever eaten. Give me Leven’s.”

  “I’ll take half of it as well,” Geth said.

  “How about thirds?” Clover offered. “I’ll divide it.”

  “Okay,” Winter agreed.

  “Hold on,” Leven insisted. “If it doesn’t do anything, I want my piece.”

  “It’s not doing anything,” Winter said.

  Leven snatched his piece and put it in his mouth. The rest of them looked at him as if he had just done something incredibly cruel and thoughtless.

  Leven chewed and then moaned. “That’s the best chocolate I’ve ever had.”

  “Do you have more?” Geth asked Clover.

  “Yeah,” Winter said urgently. “You have to have more.”

  Clover was already fishing around in his void and complaining, “I know that’s it. It was sitting in a pile of other candy when I grabbed it. I wish I had more.”

  “We should go back,” Geth said.

  “Yeah,” Winter said excitedly. “Let’s get out and go back for more.”

  “I can’t remember ever tasting something so . . . what’s that?”

  Geth pointed towards Clover’s nose, where a thick stream of brown was leaking out.

  “What?” Clover asked.

  “Your nose,” Winter said.

  Clover wiped his nose and looked at his little hands. His eyes bulged.

  “That can’t be right,” he said with concern.

  He lifted his palm up to his nostrils and breathed in. He then licked the back of his hand.

  “It’s more chocolate,” he said. “Fantastic.”

  “No way,” Winter said, standing up on the trunk. “That’s disgusting.”

  Clover let his nose run directly into his mouth. His nostrils began to flow, chocolate running in two streams down to his mouth and onto his neck.

  “It’s even better than the bar,” Clover raved. “Way better.”

  “Where did you get that candy again?” Leven asked, worried.

  “The pile said flavored,” Clover answered back, his face a chocolaty mess.

  “Flavored?” Leven said exasperated. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Clover argued. “F-l-a-w-e-d—flavored.”

  Leven put his palms to his eyes and rubbed.

  Winter licked her lips—there was chocolate dripping from her nose now. She kept her mouth closed, but the smell of it was so intoxicating she finally breathed some in.

  Clover’s nose began to flow faster in smooth, thick, chocolate streams. His leafy ears twitched and he was swallowing as fast as he could.

  “I told you we shouldn’t take anything from him,” Leven said, pointing at Clover.

  “Too late for that,” Winter yelled, chocolate filling her mouth as she spoke. “You know what, though, it is better!”

  Geth had been laughing at Clover and Winter, but now his nose had begun to run.

  “It’s really tasty,” Clover said, trying to make it sound like a good thing was happening.

  “It’s coming out of our noses,” Winter reminded him. The lower half of her face was now completely covered in runny chocolate.

  Geth had the stuff all over his hands and arms from attempting to wipe it away.

  Leven’s own nose began to drip slowly as Clover’s started to spurt chocolate out in a large brown arc. Clover spun and sprayed all of them.

  “I got some in my mouth,” Leven yelled. “That is completely dis . . . actually, it’s really good.”

  Geth was trying his best to look dignified while eating the chocolate running from his own nose. He was having a hard time pulling it off. Chocolate ran down Winter’s front and onto the trunk.

  Leven slipped off the trunk, his own nose now blowing out chocolate.

  “It’s delicious, but there’s too much!” Leven hollered.

  Geth had it all the way down his cloak and Clover looked like a misshapen and melting chocolate Easter bunny. Winter slid off of the trunk and struggled to get up as chocolate covered the dirt floor like a wave of mud. Geth stepped out of the stone fire pit and lost his footing on the slippery floor. Chocolate was now blasting from Clover’s nose like small bombs. The chocolate hit the walls with large wet smacks.

  “Turn the other way!” Winter yelled.

  Leven held his hand over his nose, trying to stop it from flowing. It was a bad idea. He started to sniff and his head cocked back as a huge sneeze built up inside of him.

  “No!” Geth yelled.

  Leven blew. Chocolate spray painted the inside of the cottage. Geth and Winter, both covered in chocolate, glared at Leven—chocolate flowing from their own noses like water.

  “Wow,” Clover said happily, chocolate splashing all over as he spoke. “You’d think it would have stopped by now.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Winter yelled sloppily.

  “I told you not to eat it,” Leven sputtered, chocolate filling his mouth.

  “I was starving,” Winter gurgled.

  A large rant opened the front door and stuck his head in. “What’s going . . .”

  He looked at the huge mess and growled.

  “Quick!” he yelled to the other rants outside.

  The rant charged into the cottage with two more right behind him. The first one wrapped his arms around Geth and threw him to the floor.

  Geth slipped out of the rant’s hold like a greased pig and

  tumbled into Leven. Another rant grabbed Winter’s wrist, but the slick chocolate allowed her to pull free without any problem.

  Chocolate was shooting everywhere. The room looked like a

  celebration of mud.

  “Get to Angus!” Geth yelled to Leven and Winter in semi-code, his mouth full of chocolate. “Get to where we last saw Angus.”

  Two more rants entered the cottage and knocked Leven to the floor. Leven wriggled in the chocolate, spinning out from under them. He tried to stand but was grabbed at the ankle.

  Leven sneezed again, blowing chocolate everywhere and blinding them all.

  Geth got to his feet and pulled Winter across the room. He flung her in the direction of the open door. Winter bolted as two more rants raced in. She slipped between them like oil and squirted out into the open.

  “Run!” Leven yelled after her.

  The chocolate sticking to the heavy robes of the rants was makin
g it almost impossible for them to fight with any effective style. A big rant with a huge left side of the head lunged at Leven. Clover took a fistful of the chocolate running from his nose and shoved it into the rant’s right eye. The rant screamed and missed Leven completely.

  Geth picked up the trunk and threw it at two rants while running for the door. He made it out while knocking two more down onto the sloppy, slippery floor.

  “After him!” one of the rants yelled. “Stop them!”

  Leven grabbed the legs of a rant and quickly pulled himself up. The rant turned, and Leven kicked him as hard as he could in the thigh. The rant filled the room with obscenities.

  Leven didn’t stick around to apologize; he ran towards the open door. He felt a kilve barely hit him across the back of his right

  shoulder. Clover jumped onto his neck, holding as tightly as his chocolate-covered hands would allow, his nose still running.

  Leven burst into the forest. He could see no sign of other rants or of Winter or Geth. A kilve flew past his head like a spear, thrown by a rant just exiting the cottage. Leven ran up the path towards the cobblestone street. Behind him he could hear the sound of more rants struggling.

  “Get him!” one yelled. “Get him!”

  “They’re pretty mad,” Clover observed.

  Leven dashed though the trees and out onto the cobblestone road. He slipped and scraped against the street. He could see blood mixing with chocolate on his forearm. He looked up and saw the rant emerging from the forest. Another kilve came flying towards Leven and whizzed past his right ear.

  “Get up!” Clover yelled.

  Leven begged his legs to lift him. He stood, the rants only a hundred feet away. Leven’s head was swimming, but he reached out and snatched the rope with his right hand. Then, as quietly as he could, he said, “Cusp Cove.”

  Leven’s hand wove into the rope just as the rants reached him. He smiled and waved with his left hand.

  The rants grabbed for him just as he was being pulled in. Luckily Leven was still covered in chocolate. The rants couldn’t get a grip, and Leven slipped away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dealing with Dolts

  It was raining. Water was dripping from the night sky like heaven had gone on vacation and accidentally left the sprinklers running. Traffic was light and the Cozy Hide-a-Way motel was far from filled to capacity. In fact, only four of the twenty-four rooms were currently occupied: one by a lady who was in town to visit her dying friend, one by a man who had lived in the motel for almost a year now, one by Terry and Addy, and one by Dennis and Ezra.

  Of course, at the moment, Dennis and Ezra’s room was empty while they hung out with Terry and Addy in theirs. It had taken a large heap of lying to get Addy to allow Dennis to come in. But Dennis, with the help of Ezra behind his ear, had told her that he was a doctor interviewing important locals. Addy claimed there was nobody more interesting or important than her Terry and let him enter.

  “Nice room,” Dennis said.

  “It’s just the reverse of yours,” Terry said, cracking open a beer. “Our microwave doesn’t work. Nineteen dollars a night and the microwave doesn’t work. We’re no better than some fifth-world country.”

  “Terry loves geography,” Addy said.

  Ezra whispered something insulting from behind Dennis’s ear.

  “So you’re a doctor,” Addy continued. “Terry and I have never had much patience with the M.D. crowd—snooty, snooty people.”

  “I’m not really that kind of doctor,” Dennis said. “I study things.”

  “A thinker, huh?” Terry scowled. “Where’s the money in that? We could use a little money. My wife just lost her job, leaving us high and dry.”

  “I’ve had a terrible pain in my back so I’m taking some time off,” Addy explained.

  “You don’t fold napkins with your back,” Terry growled. “We needed that job.”

  “Do you want me to walk out on you?” Addy asked. “Because I will.”

  “Ah,” Terry waved. “Do whatever you want.”

  “This man’s here to interview you and all you can talk about is me losing my job,” Addy harped. She turned to Dennis. “Will your article appear in the paper?”

  “Of course,” Dennis said.

  “I’m not surprised you’re interested,” Addy said. “Terry’s getting quite the following. It’s the robe.”

  “Quiet, Addy,” Terry said.

  “The robe?”

  “Found it with a metal detector,” Terry bragged. “Look at this.”

  Terry stood up and closed his robe. He began to hover a couple of inches off of the ground.

  Dennis was sincerely surprised.

  “Don’t know how it works,” Terry said. “Addy tried it on and nothing. Can’t get it to do anything else. But I tell you what, people respect it. I’ve been collecting followers at the recreation center. People think I’m prophetish.”

  “Plus it’s slimming,” Addy added.

  “Quiet, Addy,” Terry said. “Always talking.”

  “And I think it’s made him gentler,” she said, trying to make her fat face display a smile.

  The TV was showing footage of avalands chasing a school bus somewhere in the state of Washington. A woman with tall hair was interviewing one of the children who had been on the bus. Terry turned down the volume.

  “Can I ask you two fools a question?” Dennis said, repeating Ezra’s words without editing them.

  “What?” Addy said, confused.

  “ . . . Um, I mean, can I ask you a question?” Dennis corrected.

  Terry sat back down, eyeing Dennis suspiciously.

  “Did you ever know a simple garbage man?”

  “Used to have one stop by our old home,” Terry said.

  “Was he simple with a dumb hat?” Dennis asked, using Ezra’s words again.

  “Never talked to him,” Addy said.

  “But did a garbage man ever come and talk to you?” Dennis asked.

  “I think that horrible man that was stalking us was a garbage man,” Addy said guardedly. “He came to visit us at the apartment we just got kicked out of—knocked right on the door and started asking all sorts of personal questions.”

  “Like . . . ?”

  “No, not at all,” Terry chimed in. “I didn’t care for him. He was looking for someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Listen,” Addy jumped in. “I’m a charitable woman when I need to be. I graciously took in my stepsister’s dirty child. The boy ran away and that trash man wanted to know where he went.”

  “Where’d he go?”

  “Who cares, we gave the boy everything and in return he ruined our life.” Terry swore. “Look where we live. I can’t even make popcorn.”

  “Wow,” Dennis said for both himself and Ezra.

  “It really is amazing how underappreciated we are,” Terry slurred.

  “Was there something wooden by your old house?” Dennis asked.

  “Nothing but a tree,” Terry said. “A dumb tree that I cut apart. Chopped it right up, then later it picks up our house and destroys it.”

  Dennis put his hand up to his ear to hold back Ezra from showing himself and attacking Terry.

  “What if I could tell you how to get back at the boy?” Dennis said.

  “I’m listening,” Terry said.

  “And possibly use your new robe to do some good,” Dennis added.

  Terry and Addy stared at Dennis.

  “I mean make some money and possibly . . . I can’t say that,” Dennis said to himself, refusing to repeat what Ezra was telling him to.

  “What’s wrong?” Addy asked. “Your brain stop working?”

  “Something like that,” Dennis said nervously.

  “Keep talking,” Terry ordered. “Make some money and . . .”

  “Possibly rule the world.” Dennis coughed.

  Addy and Terry nodded with interest.

  “What’s the catch?” Terry asked.

/>   “Do you have a car?”

  “You saw us pull up in it.”

  “How about we take a long ride?”

  “If we leave tonight we won’t have to pay next week’s rent,” Addy said.

  “You’ll pay for the gas?” Terry asked suspiciously.

  Dennis nodded.

  “Pack up my underwear and socks, woman,” Terry said. “I’ll get my other pair of pants.”

  Terry walked into the small closet and Addy stepped into the bathroom, gathering up all her cosmetics.

  “Pleasant people,” Ezra whispered into Dennis’s ear. “They make you look intelligent.”

  “Thanks,” Dennis mumbled.

  “I can’t help it,” Ezra growled. “It’s the new me. I can’t stop myself from being nice.”

  Dennis stood up, buttoned his lab coat, and pushed up his useless glasses on his nose. He looked into the mirror that hung on Terry and Addy’s wall.

  “Even with the glasses you still look boring,” Ezra said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Again,” Ezra said. “Blame the new me.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Untitled

  Tim Tuttle was a fish out of water, or more specifically a man out of Reality. He had tested fate by swimming into the collapsing gateway that Sabine had built, and fate had snatched him into Foo.

  He was now trying to adjust, but his mind was constantly preoccupied with the mistake he might have made by not minding his own business and leaving Winter to fend for herself. He had set out to help her, but clearly now he understood that things were far more complicated and unbelievable than he had anticipated. Tim was now more concerned with getting himself out of Foo than with finding Winter. Unfortunately, neither one of those tasks looked very plausible. If it had not been for his new sycophant, Swig, he would have felt so horrible he might have simply and spontaneously expired.

  “Head still hurting?” Swig asked.

  “A little,” Tim answered.

  “It’s not far,” Swig said kindly. “The Sentinel Fields are just over that third mound. Can I rub your forehead for you?”

  “I’m all right,” Tim said. “I’ve never had anyone so quick to take care of me. Don’t tell my wife I said that.”