"Tell me, interlopers, was it you who caused the dead fleshrocks and skinstones to fall upon Prodeuce Province?" asked the fertilizer-streaked, leek-headed farmer, still aiming his shotgun at Montana. The portly tween had walked through the sky to the ground as commanded, although she didn’t put her hands up as she was still holding a squirming Vira. Vira had noticed one of the townsfolk had a toe-mato-shaped head, and the puppy-dog-shaped yokai loved toe-matoes.

  "It wasn’t me, it was a giant robot with a huge sledge hammer, answered Montana Shingles. "He hit the ground so hard it tore open and we fell in."

  "The shower of boulders that accompanied you has done much damage to Prodeuce Province," the huge-headed, tiny-bodied farmer said; "and we shall hold you responsible for it unless you can prove your innocence."

  "How can I do that?" asked the girl.

  "Well, I don’t know. That’s for you to figure out. You must go to the hall of the royal thaumaturge, who will soon discover the truth. March!"

  Montana, still carrying Vira, walked with the leek man behind her, pointing his relatively tiny shotgun up at her back. The vegetable people, who called themselves “Prodeucers”, followed. After a little while they reached an impressive, lofty building that was very beautiful. It appeared to be carved from one giant sour onion. The leek-headed man forced them up the stairs and into the structure, which contained one huge room- a throne room, but with a recliner instead of a throne. The Prodeucers formed a circle around the sides of the spacious chamber, leaving the tween, her dog, and the fertilizer-stained farmer to occupy the center of the hall. The leek headed man sighed and said flatly:

  "Che Cavolo, Che Cavolo, hear my royal call! It is I, Prince Leek, please appear in Onion Hall!”

  Instantly a cloud of noxious green smoke formed and rolled over the floor; then it slowly spread and grew taller before dissipating and disclosing a strange personage standing just before Mono. His big head was shaped like a big piece of broccoli.

  Che Cavolo, the Royal Thaumaturge of Prodeuce Province, looked toward the rotund tween and her puppy-dog-shaped yokai pal with cold, cruel black eyes, and his glance made Mono grow sober in an instant.

  "Bring in the other prisoner!"

  An odd little felt-skinned mauve boy was brought in the room and lined up next to Montana. Vira wagged her tail and struggled to get out of Mono’s arms so she could lick the puppet-class yokai’ face, which had dried puke on it.

  "Pucas!" said Montana. "I thought you were swallowed up by the beach!"

  "Twas," replied Pucas.

  "I’m so happy that you’re all right!"

  "Me too," replied Pucas.

  "The prisoners shall be silent! Why have you dared to intrude your unwelcome and ungainly persons into the secluded Province of Prodeuce?" Che Cavolo asked, sternly.

  "Cuz we couldn't help it," said Montana.

  "Lies! You three nefariously and viciously sent the fleshrock showers to crack and break our homes!" the thaumaturge continued.

  "We didn't!" declared the tween.

  "Prove it!" cried the thaumaturge.

  "We don't have to prove it," answered Montana, indignantly. "If you had any sense at all you'd known it was a giant robot with a sledge hammer."

  "We only know that a shower of dead skinstones and fleshrocks came upon us, which did much damage and injured many Prodeucers and brought the felt-skinned one. Now comes another rock shower, and soon after it you appeared among us."

  Just then a man with a cabbage head came running into the hall. He glared at Che Cavolo, as the cabbage-headed man resented the broccoli-headed thaumaturge and felt that he should have his name. Then the newcomer addressed the prince after making a low bow.

  "More wonders in the air, my leek-ness," said he.

  Immediately the leek-headed farmer/prince and all the other Prodeucers flocked out of Onion Hall into the street, that they might see what was about to happen. Our friends ran after them, but Che Cavolo remained and calmly sat down in his recliner.

  Far up in the air was an anthropomorphic pinkish-red whoopee cushion with a big, bushy moustache. It was enormous, big enough to carry a trailer in its hands, and at the moment it actually was holding a trailer. The silver trailer was shaped like a large pill, and featured a long shuttered window on the front and exit hatches on either end.

  The cushion was not so high as the six colored suns, and was descending slowly through the air- so slowly that at first it scarcely seemed to move.

  The throng stood still and watched without showing any emotion, but Montana’s heart was beating rapidly with excitement. This cushion of whoopee meant to her some other arrival from the surface of Sifillis, and she hoped it would be someone able to help her and Vira and Pucas.

  Gradually the floating whoopee cushion got close enough so the spectators could see he looked very sick. His side had a large hole in it, and he was loosing whatever gas filled him and caused him to float.

  Finally the almost empty cushion landed on its feet (which were shod with strange metal shoes), placed the trailer on the ground gently, and then- with a final defeated sad fart noise- collapsed moustache first, completely covering the pill-shaped craft like a discarded parachute.

  There was a commotion under the deflated cushion. Mono could tell one of the hatches on the big pill had opened. A shape was struggling to get out from under the dead pink rubbery-flesh.

  A handsome older man with long silver hair and a well-kept beard crawled out. He wore black squishball sneakers, black trousers, a black turtleneck sweater, and a black suit jacket. He also sported a black velvet backpack, and around his neck hung a bronze medallion with a strange alchemistical icon in the middle.

  "Well," he sighed, looking at the deflated cushion, "Banggu is finally all-the-way dead."

  Then he clapped his hands together once and addressed the throng of Prodeucers:

  "Well good afternoon, friends! Allow me to introduce myself, I am the notable and notorious Zanghi T. Zygote, purveyor of novel novelties, titillating tchotchkes, naughty knickknacks, groovy geegaws, bombastic baubles, dastardly doodads, troublesome trinkets, fraudulent fripperies, illegal illusions, and practical and impractical jokes of every ilk. I wonder if any of you are in the market for a pair of wind-up chattering teeth, or a fake humped bladderwort that squirts squidwarf ink? How about a book of truly tasteless jokes or a large vibrating terd? (“Terds” were what they called eggs on Sifillis)."

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Another, much larger shape was struggling to get out of the pill-trailer and from under the dead whoopee cushion. Finally a very tired looking brown jackass managed to awkwardly uncover himself. Behind him he was dragging the back half of a V.W. Bug. V.W. Bugs were dung beetle-shaped vehicles invented in a lab by Veronica Wartnipples about a hundred and fifty years ago. Veronica Wartnipples had big brown hairy warts where her nipples should’ve been. This particular rusty old bug had been cut in half, so only the rear part of the vehicle was there, creating a sort of carriage, and this is what was hitched to the bony old jackass.

  "Oh," said the jackass. "Mr. Banguu died." Zanghi stepped over to the emaciated donkey.

  "Allow me to introduce you all to my esteemed associate, Crassgass the Gassy Jackass. He does much of the heavy lifting- and pulling- in our organization."

  "Hello, folks!" said Crassgass in a tired but pleasant voice. He crassly unleashed a big dry fart.

  The crowd merely stared at the handsome humanoid and flatulent jackass silently, with no trace of emotion on their faces. The prince with the head shaped like a leek came and stood before Zanghi and introduced himself.

  "Sir," said Prince Leek, "why have you come to the Province of Prodeuce?" The silver-haired humanoid, who was in great shape for being 69 and had lovely soft skin, said:

  "I didn't know what province it was, and, to be honest, I didn't mean to visit you when I started out. My late associate Mr. Banguu was transporting us from a rubber novelty item warehouse when a stray meteorite punctured his rubbery skin. When we tried to make an emergency landing he fell- still carrying us- into a big gash in the planet. We continued to descend until we reached this place- this beautiful place- and if you will show me a way to get out of it, we'll go with pleasure. The jackass and I are sorry to have troubled you Mr. Leek; but we couldn’t help it." Crassgass farted.

  The prince had listened with attention. Then said he:

  "Come with me. I wish you to meet Che Cavolo, the Royal Thaumaturge."

  Zanghi smiled and followed the prince into the great domed hall. Montana, Vira, and Pucas- who seemed to have been forgotten by the prince- came after them, while the throng of unemotive people trooped in also. Crassgass stayed behind and farted some more. One of the farts turned out to be a shart and a tiny fleck of poo landed on the half-a-bug’s seat.

  In the great hall sat the broccoli-headed thaumaturge in his recliner. "Another intruder! What are you doing here in the Province of Prodeuce?"

  "I've just had the bad luck to come out of the sky, skip the solid ground, and land lower down than I intended. Then had to climb out from under the corpse of my second-best friend. But never mind. It isn't everyday somebody gets a chance to see your lovely land of the Po’deuce."

  "Prodeuce," said Che Cavolo, correcting him.

  "I heard the prince call you a thaumaturge. So you can do tricks and illusions, things like that?" asked Zanghi.

  "Well, I guess that’s a bit of an over simplification..."

  "Then I’m a thaumaturge too! I can do tons of tricks. I bet I’m just as good a thaumaturge as you are a thaumaturge."

  "That remains to be seen," sniffed Che Cavolo.

  "If you are able to prove that you are better," said Prince Leek to the silver-haired humanoid, "I will immediately fire Cavolo here and make you the chief thaumaturge of this domain. Otherwise- "

  "What will happen otherwise?" asked Montana. Zanghi noticed the bejumpsuited rotund tween- holding a brown-and-white puppy-dog-shaped yokai- for the first time.

  "I will murder you in a terribly unpleasant way," returned the prince, holding up his double barreled shotgun and shaking it menacingly.

  "That sounds like a bad thing," smiled the silver-haired handsome humanoid. "But never mind. I'll beat ol’ Brocollihead, all right."

  "My name is Che Cavolo!" said Che Cavolo, turning his heartless, cruel black eyes upon his rival. "Let me see you equal the thaumaturgy I am about to perform."

  He picked up a giant red-dusted-diamond-tipped staff from beside his recliner and waggled it and at once a retching noise filled the chamber. Suddenly a small fleshy moist ball, no bigger than a sour pea, appeared on the floor. It began to pulsate, swell and grow, all the time spewing a thick green muck out of an ill-defined orifice. Eventually it took the shape of a large, gammon-colored, veiny lizard. The lizard rolled around in its own expurgated muck until it’s flesh began melting, and soon it was just a puddle of pink-and-green goo that then turned into a full iguana steak dinner, with all the trimmings.

  The Prodeucers watched, but showed no great interest. It was one of the things Che Cavolo usually did to prove he was a thaumaturge.

  Now it was Zanghi's turn. He took off the backpack he was wearing and took out an old deep purple fez (featuring a patch with the alchemistical symbol for black sulfer next to a Cinesoteric Society button) and then said:

  "Good vegetables of the Prodeuce Province, observe me carefully. You see, there is nothing up my sleeve and nothing concealed about my person. Also, my hat is quite empty." He held the fez upside down, shaking it briskly.

  "Let me see it," said Che Cavolo.

  The unpleasant thaumaturge took the purple fez and examined it carefully, returning it afterward to Zanghi.

  "Now," said the silver-haired humanoid, "I will create something out of nothing."

  He placed the fez upon the floor, made a cryptic pass with his left hand, and then removed the purple fez with his right, displaying a little oily hairless pink platypus foetus no bigger than a newborn naked mole rat. The platypus began to toddle around here and there and to grunt and squeal in a tiny, shrill voice.

  The Prodeucers watched it intently, for they had never seen a platypus before, with or without hair. Zanghi reached out, caught the wee creature in his hand, and- holding its head between one thumb and finger and its rump between the other thumb and finger- pulled it apart, each of the two parts becoming a whole and separate platypus foetus in an instant.

  He placed one upon the floor, so that it could stumble around, and pulled apart the other, making three pudgy pink platypuses in all; and then one of these was pulled apart, making four platypuses. Zanghi continued this surprising performance until nine tiny hairless pink platypus foetuses were moving about his feet, all squealing and grunting in a very comical, cute, and marketable way.

  "Now," said Zanghi, "having created something from nothing, I will make something nothing again."

  With this he caught up two of the platypuses and pushed them together, so that the two were one. Then he caught up another platypus and pushed it into the first, where it disappeared. And so, one by one, the nine oily platypuses foetuses were pushed together until but a single one of the creatures remained. This Zanghi placed underneath his fez, then turned around, squatted, and farted over the hat. When he removed it the last foetus had disappeared entirely.

  Zanghi gave a bow to the silent throng that had watched him, and then Prince Leek said, in his cold, calm voice:

  "You are indeed a wonderful thaumaturge, and your powers are possibly greater than those of my thaumaturge."

  "He will not be a wonderful thaumaturge for long," remarked Che Cavolo.

  "Why not?" inquired Zanghi.

  "Because I am going to annihilate you," was the reply. "I perceive that you are curiously constructed, and that if you cannot breathe you cannot keep alive."

  Zanghi looked troubled. Cavolo began making queer signs and belches toward Zanghi. Montana and Pucas gasped as a plastic bag appeared over Zanghi’s head. The handsome senior could feel his air supply being cut off, but stayed calm. He drew an iguana skin case from his black backpack and took from it several sharp knives, which he methodically joined together, one after another, until they made one long scimitar. By the time he had attached a handle to this weapon he was having much trouble breathing.

  So Zanghi wasted no more time. Leaping forward, he raised the sharp blade, whirled it once or twice around his head, and then gave a mighty stroke that sliced the head and body of Che Cavolo exactly in two.