The Legends of Greemulax

by Kimmy Schmidt

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and spelling are the product of the author’s totally awesome imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Universal Studios.

  Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt is a trademark and copyright of Universal Television.

  Licensed by Universal Studios 2019.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Illustrations and cover art by Brandon Dorman

  Illustration here by Danh Nguyen

  Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Little, Brown and Company

  Hachette Book Group

  1290 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10104

  Visit us at LBYR.com

  First Edition: April 2019

  Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019933519

  ISBNs: 978-0-316-53575-5 (hardcover), 978-0-316-53574-8 (ebook)

  E3-20190306-JV-NF-ORI

  Contents

  COVER

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  1 THE LEGEND OF GARATE PRACTICE

  2 THE LEGEND OF THE DRAGON TRAP

  3 THE LEGEND OF THE GLASS CEILING

  4 THE LEGEND OF TEN SECONDS

  5 THE LEGEND OF THE APPLE CORE

  6 THE LEGEND OF HIGH FIVE

  7 THE LEGEND OF LILLIBOP

  8 THE LEGEND OF THE SPOON IN THE ROAD

  9 THE LEGEND OF THE PUDDING MAN

  10 THE LEGEND OF DRAGONS

  11 THE LEGEND OF THE LEMON BUBBLE

  12 THE LEGEND OF THE GREAT SCORCH

  13 THE LEGEND OF THE CANDY CANE

  14 THE LEGEND OF UNMONSTERING

  15 THE LEGEND OF GOOD AND BAD

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To boys and girls equally

  Deep in the scorched woods of North Greemulax, where the Grabagorns ruled, Penn sat on a spiky log, watching his friends roll around and kick each other. “Good defense!” Penn said, debating if he should jump in or wait for the next match. He didn’t want to interrupt, but he was itching to get in some swings.

  Garate—Grabagorn karate—required at least one other guy to kick, chop, and punch, so Penn usually spent his days with his three best friends, practicing their moves. Four was the ideal number.

  Today, only the twins—Landon and Brandon—had shown up. Marcus was late. They had to get started without him, since members of the Grabagorn brotherhood were required to do at least nine hours of Garate practice a day. If they didn’t complete this training, they would never be strong enough to fight in any brawl, let alone survive a dragon invasion.

  Ever since the Great Scorch, Grabagorns were always, always preparing for another dragon invasion.

  Landon and Brandon were already covered in black grime from head to toe. Landon’s sandy hair now looked muddy. They had begun practicing the hardest Garate move of all—the Roundpit. In order to perform this incredibly advanced move, one had to spin around ten times and then kick a dragon directly in the armpit. Grabagorn Prime told them that if performed correctly, the Roundpit would kill a dragon instantly. Just fire and blood everywhere!

  “Watch this!” Brandon, the taller twin, barked at Penn and Landon. His tangled black hair and pale, skinny neck reminded Penn of a pencil. “I’ll show you guys how to Roundpit like a real Grabagorn,” Brandon said. He readied himself against the side of the arena and flung his lanky body into a series of spins. Penn still wasn’t used to seeing Brandon with his blue, shaggy Grabagorn feet. They’d only popped out two weeks ago, but Brandon seemed to be getting better at walking on them every day. After ten rotations, Brandon sprang forward on his massive feet and kicked the charred tree stump that was playing the role of dragon. The tree shattered into smoky, black bits and sent a haze of dust into his brother’s face.

  Brandon cheered while Landon coughed.

  “Did you see that?” Brandon asked. “I killed it! I’m amazing! That dragon was toast!”

  “Yeah, nice one,” Penn said, although he worried a real dragon would have been the one to turn Brandon to toast. But ever since his friend had started to transformate, Brandon thought he was amazing at everything. His ego had gotten as big as his new blue feet.

  Penn knew that transformating was only the beginning. Once Brandon became a full-grown Grabagorn, he would be enormous and strong, with icy blue skin and a set of horns. That was when he would become a true man, according to Grabagorn Prime. Penn wasn’t so sure. But then again, Penn was only twelve, still all boy. No big Grabagorn feet in sight. Not even a big Grabagorn toe. Not even a big Grabagorn toenail.

  The truth was, Penn wasn’t sure he wanted a Grabagorn toenail. Or toe. Or foot. Or anything Grabagorn at all.

  The more Grabagorny someone became, the less he laughed. Although Penn noticed that the elders did still laugh at him, if not with him. But they were kind of mean, and Penn didn’t like being mean.

  He knew he had no choice, though.

  It was only a few months ago, at this year’s SuperCup, that Penn noticed he and his friends were the only ones left who were still all boy.

  Everyone in North Greemulax came together on the SuperCup, the most important day of the year. They strapped on their strongest gear and got in line, hiking up the snaking footpaths of Grabagorn Mountain to the chief Man Cave to retell the story of the Great Scorch, mourn their losses, celebrate their strength, and then, finally, compete in Garate. The winner of the competition took home the SuperCup, an actual cup made of stone.

  First they ate a hearty feast of meat stew. After the meal, the Grabagorns, part-Grabagorns, and boys all gathered around to listen to the tale of their greatest battle.

  “Ten years ago, before the Great Scorch, our community was not only home to us, but lots and lots of womenfolk,” Grabagorn Prime explained. His massive beard, covered in cheese dust and tobacco spit, shook as he spoke. “They were beautiful to look at but mouthy. With hair for smelling!”

  As was customary during this part of the story, the Grabagorns threw their heads back, howling in honor of the memory of the womenfolk and the loss of something good-looking. Penn didn’t remember the women. He dreamt about what he imagined women to be, but he really had no idea. He’d been only two years old during the Great Scorch, the youngest of the community. And since all the women were gone, he was the youngest still.

  “The dragons preyed on our weakness. The dragons burned our land and killed our women. Why? Because we were too weak to defend them!”

  A guy sitting up front, Grabagoop, slammed the ground in frustration. “KILL THE DRAGONS!” This set off Grabagreen, who punched Grabagul, which quickly sent the whole crew into a round of angry stomping.

  Penn looked around the cave and realized that he and his friends were the only ones who hadn’t transformated at all. Everyone else had at least a little Grabagorn to them. An ear. A chin. An elbow.

  “We must fight!” G
rabagorn Prime hollered, getting the whole cave going again. “We must practice our Garate!” The crowd cheered. Grabagorn Prime lifted his huge blue arms and balled his paws into fists. “We will be ready for those nasty dragons… that is, if they ever dare to try to enter our land again. In the old days, society wanted us to suppress our strongness. They wanted us to wear sweaters and floss our teeth. They wanted us to take turns being in charge.”

  The Grabagorns all booed, as was the custom. Grabagorn Prime was yelling now.

  “They made us weak. That’s why those fire monsters were able to defeat us. It was only after the Great Scorch that we could no longer avoid our destiny. From the tragedy, our true hairy giant Grabagorn selves emerged—like the first issue of a cool comic book. Now we know that men are destined to become Grabagorns. We were weak then, but now we are strong! When I say, ‘Grabagorn,’ you say, ‘Great chant!’ Grabagorn.”

  “Great chant!”

  “Grabagorn.”

  “Great chant!”

  “We need to be tough!” shouted Grabagork, who just a month earlier had been a boy called William. (Only those who had turned all Grabagorn got to take Grabagorn names.) “We need to be mean!” he added. As he snarled, Penn noticed that William—no, Grabagork—began to sprout an extra tuft of fur on his back. It seemed like the more noise the guy made, the Grabagornier he got. Grabagork stood up and pounded his chest. “For the women! For the women!” he chanted, and soon everyone had joined in.

  “We need more traps,” Grabagoop said.

  Penn perked up. He may have been the youngest, but he was good at making traps. He had just made one with pulleys and big round rocks that rolled down a slope and triggered a lever when it caught something. That was another reason he wasn’t looking forward to transformating—he could see that the elders couldn’t make small things with their big hands. Grabagorn hands only made good fists. Their hands couldn’t make tight knots for strong traps. That’s why his traps were so good. He hadn’t caught a dragon, though. Nobody had ever caught one. Not yet.

  Back in the practice arena, Penn heard Landon shout, “Penn! Come rumble with me!” “I want to Garate-chop you with my new Grabagorn paw.” Landon held up his left hand, which had just this week turned the signature blue color and begun to sprout tufts of coarse, blue hair. Landon smiled proudly at his achievement, and Penn noticed that the tips of his friend’s teeth had begun to sharpen as well. Now everyone had started to transformate.

  Brandon.

  Landon.

  Even Marcus.

  Everyone but Penn.

  Out of place again.

  If he really thought about it, maybe Penn had always felt out of place.

  “Be right there,” Penn called back, even as his whole body filled with nerves at the thought of when he might start to transformate. He glanced down at his own small hand and wiggled his fingers, trying to imagine them with blue hair growing out of the knuckles. Penn quite liked how they looked now. Maybe there was a way to avoid it.… Hadn’t Grabagorn Prime himself said that back before the Great Scorch, the men didn’t always transformate all the way into Grabagorns? Penn’s mind began to wander, but he quickly pushed the thoughts away and hopped down into the pit. He used to be able to talk about this kind of stuff with Marcus, but if the twins found out about his hesitation, they’d tease him endlessly. All boys wanted to become big, tough Grabagorns! He put up his fists and took a defensive Garate stance. He still had nearly eight hours of practice to complete today.

  “I’ll take you down, Landon,” Penn growled, trying to sound tough. “You’re such a Weaklink. You’re never gonna be a full Grabagorn.” Penn had seen other boys say this to each other, and it always made them really mad.

  It worked.

  Landon’s face twisted into a dreadful scowl, and he growled and roared and wumped as he charged, taking Penn down.

  Landon and Brandon may have been strong, but Penn was nimble. And he was fast.

  “Grrrraagghh!” Landon gurgled, raising his paw high above his head. In a swift motion, he slammed it down, aiming for Penn’s shoulder. But Penn was too quick, rolling out of harm’s way. Poor Landon swung his paw down with such intensity that it cracked the hard ground and was now lodged in the dried mud. Penn tried not to laugh, but Landon looked so goofy struggling and squirming to release it. Penn couldn’t help it. He giggle-snorted.

  “Where is Marcus, anyway?” Brandon wondered aloud as he reached for Landon, pulling his brother back to his feet. “Pretty lame of him to ditch practice.”

  “I don’t know.” Penn helped himself up and tried to brush the dirt off his clothes. It made no difference anyway. Everything the Grabagorns wore was either brown or black, though none of it had started out that color.

  He hopped up to the ridge and scanned the horizon. It was the same old view—a million blackened tree trunks and Grabagorn Mountain in the distance.

  As it often did, Penn’s mind jumped to the worst-case scenario: Marcus had been eaten by a dragon. After all, it had been over an hour since they were supposed to meet, and there was still no sign of their friend. Marcus was his best and most reliable friend, although things had changed between them since Marcus had started to transformate. They used to tell stories to each other about their mothers, even though neither of them had real memories to rely on. But Marcus no longer wanted to talk about his mom. “Do you think… something happened to him?”

  “Not sure,” Brandon said, taking a gigantic swig of well water from his bottle.

  Penn did the same. The liquid tasted even sweeter after an intense Garate fight. Too sweet, as usual. But he forced some down.

  “If he did get eaten by a dragon…” Brandon mused, pausing for dramatic effect, “I call dibs on his Man Cave. I’m gonna need my own space now that I’m becoming a Grabagorn. Can’t be sharing with my stupid twin.”

  “You can have his if I get ours,” Landon said. “Ours is better.”

  While the twins argued over who would hypothetically get dibs and who was, in fact, stupid, Penn tried to push away the image of Marcus sitting inside the belly of an evil dragon.

  After another couple of practice rounds, the boys were hitting their stride.

  “Youf gufs!” A strange voice echoed through the dead trees. Penn, Brandon, and Landon spun around and sprang to their feet, ready to attack. Penn was relieved to see it was Marcus, running up the hill and practically tripping over his own feet with sheer excitement. “PFENN! Your traf cauf somfing! Iff inth the thrap!” Drool dribbled down his chin, and his blue tongue lolled out of his mouth.

  “What?!” Penn replied, having no clue what his friend was saying. The one part of Marcus that had started to transformate into Grabagorn was his mouth, which had made talking a challenge for him.

  Marcus put his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He wiped the back of his hand against his slobbery blue lips and tried again. This time, he spoke slower.

  “Penn, your trap caught something!” Marcus said. “Well, three somethings.”

  “My trap caught three dragons?!” Penn felt like his chest was going to burst open. He’d never even seen one dragon. And now there were three. In his trap. Grabagorn Prime was going to lose his mind. Penn almost hugged Landon and Brandon but then thought better of it. Grabagorns didn’t hug.

  Penn grabbed his rucksack and bottle. “I want to see the dragons!”

  “Yeah…” Marcus said, a funny expression on his face. “I’m not actually sure what they are. You better come look.”

  Not dragons? What else could they be?

  Penn’s heart pounded violently as he and the other boys followed Marcus through the wilds of North Greemulax. “Hurry!” Penn yelled as he leaped over a charred tree stump. “Can’t you guys move any faster?”

  “I can,” Brandon bragged, then ran ahead on his big Grabagorn feet.

  As he sped across the charred pitlands, through the abandoned Radio Shack, and past the Man Caves, Penn secretly worried that whatever he had c
aught would find a way out of his trap before he could see them. Even though this particular trap was his best creation yet (according to a few of the toughest Grabagorns who had tested it), Penn suddenly felt less confident about his design. It had been devised with dragons in mind. And there were so many weird variables that had to be accounted for, like fire breath and wingspan. Who knew what magical powers his new mystery catch might have?

  When they arrived at the streambed, it meant that they were almost there. Marcus led the way, hopping onto the splintered-log bridge and running across quickly. It was definitely going to crumble and snap soon, so no one tempted fate by spending more time on it than they had to. But most of the stuff in North Greemulax was falling apart, probably because ever since Grabanap took over as chief repair officer, the Repair Force seemed to spend their time playing Grabagolf and arm wrestling instead of fixing things.

  “Ofverf fere!” Marcus yelled as the boys finally crested the hill, accidentally spraying them with droplets of slobber. The trap still had the three creatures inside!

  Marcus darted behind a giant boulder and motioned for the others to join him. Penn was dying to get a closer look. From this distance, it was impossible to tell what these creatures were.

  “Fudge! How did this happen to us?” shouted one of the creatures. Then a small hand poked through the net! It had five slim fingers and no fur, just like Penn’s hand. “Are you sure you can’t get us out of here, X?” Its voice was high and squeaky, but pleasant. It sounded familiar and warm. Like sunshine.

  At this, Landon perked up. “Did you hear that? They’re speaking our language.”

  The boys peeked out from behind the boulder, moving a little closer but careful to stay hidden. Brandon sniffed the air. “And they don’t smell like farts and beard mold.”

  Landon used his Grabagorn paw to punch his brother in the arm. “Are those… womenfolk?”

  Penn’s heart skipped a beat.

  “What are you talking about?” Brandon rubbed his freshly punched arm. “Womenfolk don’t exist anymore. They were killed by the dragons. Everyone knows that.”