Gobbled by Ghorks

by Robert Paul Weston

  “The only thing we can do,” said Elliot. “Perform in the cabaret!”

  The professor—and all the creatures—stared at Elliot.

  “He’s not kidding,” said Leslie.

  Elliot stepped forward. “Okay, yes, I know this is going to sound weird, but this is creaturedom. Weirdness is what we do!” He turned to the professor. “Uncle Archie, aren’t you always telling us there’s more than one way to save the day? Well . . . that day is today, and we’re going to save it in the only way left—with a song-and-dance number!”

  Everyone was still staring.

  “Seriously,” said Leslie. “He’s telling the truth.”

  She and Elliot explained what they had learned: how the Chief was skeptical about Giggles, the so-called Fabled Sixth Ghork, and how, if they could make him laugh in the festival’s Dinner-Theatre-Style Costume Cabaret, the Chief would have to start all over again, sending his henchmen out to find another ghork to lead their armies.

  “Which means,” said Elliot, “if we can make Giggles giggle, we save the day!”

  Patti Mudmeyer squinted at Elliot. “You think our cabaret performance was that funny?”

  “You guys were hilarious,” Leslie answered. “If there’s anyone who can make Giggles giggle, it’s all of you.”

  “I assure you, my friends,” said Jean-Remy, “zere was nothing comical in my performance. It was utterly in earnest!”

  “Besides, the performance was only meant as a disguise,” said the professor. “We could never actually perform!”

  “But I thought you wanted to,” said Leslie. “You were certainly excited about it on the way here.”

  “But that wasn’t the real thing. It was just for you two!” The professor peeled back his sleeve to check the time. “Anyway, just look! The cabaret is only a few hours off. There’s no time to practice.”

  “Who said anything about practicing?” said Leslie. “It’s funnier if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  Elliot nodded. “Especially if Reggie goes in for his big finish.”

  “There is nothing comedic about my submaritone!” said Reggie.

  “For once he’s right,” said Pib. “Not comedic so much as catastrophic.”

  “No-no-no,” said Jean-Remy. “Zis is ridiculous! It would be an insult to ze cabaret if we did not have at least a teensy bit of practice. But how can we? Zere is no time! Zat is because ze hardest part of any invention, the part that takes the most time is—what else? An idea. Yet we have nothing!”

  “We don’t even have a Think Tank,” said Patti.

  “Or a cerebellows,” Harrumphrey harrumphed.

  “Um . . . don’t take this the wrong way,” said Leslie. “But maybe you guys just aren’t very good at building weapons.” She pointed to the Fright Bulb and Flying Pan, lying idle on a nearby table.

  The professor nodded. “The laboratories of creaturedom are places of creation. Never destruction.”

  “Except when Reggie starts singing, you mean,” said Bildorf.

  Pib snickered, and Reggie responded with a shake of his head, using his tusks to knock the two hobmongrels off his shoulders. They clung to his chest of medals and, a moment later, climbed back up in silence.

  “The professor might be right,” said Harrumphrey. “We’d be better off presenting one of Elliot and Leslie’s Onion Stunners or Fluffy Pillow Pitchers than anything we came up with.”

  “That’s it!” said Elliot. “Harrumphrey, you really are a genius!”

  “It’s true, but I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Elliot smiled proudly. “What if Leslie and I came up with something?”

  “Us?” asked Leslie.

  “Sure! If we came up with an idea, it would give the creatures time to practice.”

  Professor von Doppler regarded Leslie and his nephew with more than a little skepticism. “You two really think you can come up with something that will set Gügor free?”

  “We already proved we could invent anti-ghork devices,” said Elliot. “They’re sort of like weapons.”

  “And they might have worked perfectly,” said Leslie, “if we hadn’t run out of cheese and onions so quickly.”

  The professor considered the suggestion for a moment. His expression hardened, as if realizing he had no other choice. He placed a reassuring hand on Elliot and Leslie’s shoulders. “Get to it, you two. We’ll start rehearsing.”

  The creatures cleared away a section of the dungeon laboratory and began running through their lines. They wrote new parts for the Heppleworth creatures, while Leslie and Elliot tried to think of something that would impress the bloodthirsty Chief of Quazicom.

  “What if,” said Elliot, “we combined all of our anti-ghork devices into one gigantic superweapon?”

  Leslie wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. “How would we fit them all together? And what in the world would we call it?”

  Elliot considered this. “Something like a Stinky . . . Funky . . . Fluffy . . . Four-Stringed . . . Onion-Scented . . . Slobber Gun.”

  The words hung in the air for a moment, and then—

  Elliot and Leslie burst out laughing. It was such a ridiculous thing to say, they couldn’t help it. They doubled over, helpless with giggles and gasping for breath. In fact, they laughed so hard that over on the far side of the lab, they interrupted the creatures’ rehearsal.

  “Hmm . . .” said Harrumphrey (who, like the others, had no idea why the two children were laughing). “Maybe we’re funnier than we thought.”

  Finally, Elliot and Leslie caught their breath. When they looked up at each other, they had their “Eureka!” moment.

  “That’s it!” they said, in perfect unison.

  “We can not only make something that’ll satisfy the Chief . . .” said Elliot.

  “. . . but also something that’s guaranteed to make Giggles laugh!” said Leslie.

  “Which means the Chief will never get to use it!”

  “Because we will have saved the day!”

  Elliot opened his knapsack, took out some paper, and used his original DENKi-3000 Electric Pencil to sketch out a hasty diagram. Leslie watched as a strange device began to take shape. Then she borrowed the pencil herself.

  “It’s perfect,” she said, “but something tells me it’ll only work if we get the color right. So how about some hot-pink lightning bolts!” She whisked them across the page.

  Elliot laughed. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this about hot-pink lightning bolts, but . . . yes! Perfect!”

  When they finished the diagram, they brought it over to the other creatures to see. Jean-Remy fluttered up to hover over the page. “Aha! Yes, it is brilliant!” He turned to Elliot, admiringly. “It is clear you have not merely transformed into a creature on the outside.” He tapped a tiny finger to his temple. “You have ze brain of a creature, as well! You too, Leslie, have ze same special gift—even if you’re not quite as hairy.”

  “Fine by me,” said Leslie.

  “The cabaret begins soon,” said the professor. “We’ll have to get a prototype rickem-ruckemed together as quick as we can. If only we had Gügor to help us!”

  “Don’t you worry, Doc,” said Cosmo Clutch. “You might be surprised to know I’m a dab hand at a bit of rickem-ruckery myself.”

  “You are?” asked Patti.

  “Sure,” replied the danger-moose. He sliced the air with a flurry of karate chops. “Rickem-ruckery’s all about fearlessly fighting with an angry machine, right?”

  Harrumphrey winced. “In a manner of speaking . . .”

  “Stellar! Then I’m your moose. Nobody’s as fearless as I am.” As if to prove it, Cosmo snatched up the diagram Elliot and Leslie had drawn. “You all keep rehearsing and leave it to Old Clutchie!” He sauntered over to a pile of a equipment and be
gan kicking at it with the toe of his boot.

  “Are you sure he knows what he’s doing?” Leslie asked.

  “Indubitably!” said Reggie. “I’d trust that danger-moose with my life.” Reggie leaned down and whispered to Leslie, “You ought to know, he holds two world records in wild dishwasher wrangling.”

  “Is that even a thing?” asked Elliot.

  Reggie smiled. “It is where he comes from.”

  “Wait!” said Leslie suddenly. “Hold everything. Is it just me, or is everyone forgetting something?”

  “Forgetting what?” asked Patti.

  “If we’re making a brand-new invention, how do we power it? That’s the most important thing. Where do we get the essences?”

  “Where else?” said the professor. “From the Abstractory.”

  CHAPTER 24

  In which Elliot and Leslie meet a new keeper

  Elliot and Leslie could hardly believe it, but it was true: The dungeons came with their very own Abstractory!

  “Keep in mind,” said the professor, leading Elliot and Leslie through several lonely caverns, “before the ghorks turned all this into a dungeon, it was part of the Heppleworth Creature Department, including what every good creature department can’t do without—an Abstractory!”

  They had arrived at a set of double doors, built in the shape of an Erlenmeyer flask. The professor knocked twice, and with a crackling hiss, the doors rumbled open of their own accord.

  Inside, the Heppleworth Abstractory looked much like the one at DENKi-3000, where Lester, Chester, and Nestor Preston tended to the multitude of essences that powered creaturely inventions. As soon as they entered, they were greeted by a jungle of bookcase-trees, arranged in a winding labyrinth of shelves and stacks. Unlike the Preston Brothers’ abstractory, however, many of these shelves were empty.

  Facing the entrance, seated at a shabby desk, was a creature unlike anything Elliot and Leslie had met before. It was covered in bright pink hair and had the rippling physique of a professional wrestler, with broad shoulders that went straight across from right to left, seemingly without a head in between. Instead, there were only three unblinking eyes, each one the size of a perfectly ripe grapefruit. They rose up on three fluffy pink stalks from the creature’s shoulders (the right one the lowest, the left slightly higher, and the middle one highest of all). Directly below these glossy orbs, smack in the middle of the creature’s chest, was a huge mouth, framed by ruby-red lips and filled with softly rounded teeth.

  In spite of the creature’s formidable stockiness, there was something distinctly feminine about its shape.

  “Whatever you’re looking for, don’t bother,” said the creature. “We’re all out.” She had the shrill voice of an old-time schoolmarm.

  “Elliot, Leslie,” said the professor. “This is Orphelina Trunkbasket, keeper of the Heppleworth Abstractory. She and I have known each other for a long time. Nearly everything I know about applied abstraction I learned from her. Orphelina, I’d like you to meet my nephew, Elliot, and his friend Leslie.”

  For the first time, Orphelina blinked. Three sets of long pink lashes flickered up and down. “Peachy to meet you,” she said. Then, one by one, all three of her eyes settled on Elliot. “Your uncle Archimedes was the first human critter I ever taught.” She leaned across her desk. “I don’t admit it much, but he was one of my best students.” The stalk of her middle eyeball tilted forward until it was inches from Elliot’s face. “Which leaves me wondering . . . are you as good at choosing essences as he is?”

  Before Elliot could answer, Leslie spoke up. “You have three eyes. And back at DENKi-3000, the Preston brothers have three heads. I can’t help thinking that’s not a coincidence.”

  Orphelina’s attention whipped over to Leslie. “Well, girlie, you certainly have an eye for detail.” Her left eye winked. “I like that! And you’re absolutely right. When it comes to Abstractory keepers, three’s the magic number. Every creature invention requires three essences, so we keepers reflect that. Three heads, three arms, three stomachs—you get the picture. In my case, I got a trio of peepers. Pretty standard stuff to see at an abstractory, but . . .” Orphelina paused. All three of her eyes narrowed. “Bah! What abstractory? All they left me was fumes and fizzle! There’s no point even going in!”

  “Please, Orphelina, let the children have a look around. They’ve had an idea for a very important invention, and it’s going to need the proper essences.” He took a deep breath and placed his hands on Elliot and Leslie’s shoulders. “I’ll think you’ll find these two are even better at choosing them than I am.”

  Orphelina squinted at the children. “Hard to believe, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you,” said the professor. “I’ve got to get back to rehearsal.” He turned and hastened back toward the laboratory portion of the dungeon.

  When the professor was gone, Orphelina placed her fuzzy pink hands flat on her desk. “Listen, kids, I wish I could help you, but I can’t.”

  Leslie was shocked. “But you just said—”

  “I know what I just said, but I was just trying to get rid of your boss.”

  “He’s not our boss,” said Elliott. “He’s my uncle.”

  “Either way, this whole place is kaput! Sold out! Sapped dry! Read my lips: There. Is. Nothing. Left.”

  “Sure there is,” said Leslie. “You have tons of essences left.” She pointed to the countless shelves behind the desk. Although many of them were bare, quite a few others trembled and flashed with just the sort of outlandish substances they expected to find in an abstractory.

  “Nothing but duds,” said Orphelina.

  “Maybe we should have a look for ourselves.” Elliot moved to step around the desk, but Orphelina stood up, raising an arm to block his way. “Oy! Weren’t you listening?” She grabbed the scruff of Elliot’s knapsack and lifted him off his feet.

  “You know something,” said Elliot, “for an abstractory keeper, you’re not very helpful.”

  “Listen, you—and you!” She pointed at Leslie. “I’m not having one squidge of my essences used to power a single spring, transistor, or even the teeniest, weeniest cog in the sort of invention you two want to make!”

  Elliot craned his head closer to Orphelina’s trio of eyes. “But we haven’t even told you what we’re making.”

  “Weapons!” said Orphelina. “Isn’t that right? For Quazicom, no less! Well, you can forget about it. It’s not happening.”

  “But we’re not making a weapon,” said Leslie. “Well, not a weapon like the Chief wants. It’s not something that will hurt people.”

  “It’ll do the exact opposite,” said Elliot. He lowered his voice and whispered the name of their invention.

  “Intriguing,” said Orphelina. She lowered Elliot to the floor. “I suppose I could let you have a look around, but I’m sorry to say that when I told you I’ve got nothing but duds in here, I wasn’t kidding. When Quazicom took over, they shipped out all my best essences, and left me with only the negatives.”

  “Negatives?” Leslie asked.

  “Negative essences. Fear, Disgruntlement, Jealousy. The essence of Stepping in a Warm Puddle of Slobberwolf Vomit. That sort of thing. When offset by a positive essence, you can achieve a kind of harmony. For instance, you put a few shards of Anger in with a dollop of Apology, and you might be able to invent something to strengthen emotional bonds between siblings. But just the Anger?” Orphelina shook her head. “With nothing but negative essences, all you can really make are weapons. That’s why the Chief cleared out all the good ones.”

  “Negative essences,” Leslie whispered. She was curious. What would that mean? She descended the entranceway steps down to the nearest bookcase-tree. The first vessel she saw was a simple glass jar full of a viscous slate-gray sludge like wet cement. The surface bubbled and popped in a slow boil, and the mo
ment Leslie fixed her eyes on it, its color shifted from dour gray to a murky purple, and then a pale, lifeless yellow. The colors kept changing, each one a sallow, half-hearted version of a brighter hue, but when Leslie looked away, the sludge returned to gray. The label on the jar said:

  Mendacity

  “Lying,” Orphelina explained. She and Elliot had come down to join Leslie. The three of them stood around the trunk of the first bookcase-tree. “That’s what mendacity means, to be dishonest.”

  “Bad essences,” Leslie whispered, beginning to understand.

  “Look at this one.” Elliot reached his hairy paw into the shelf and pulled out a plump blue bottle. Clinging to the inside of the jar was a finely spun cobweb. Suspended at its center was a throbbing black heart, while all across the web, tiny spiders scuttled back and forth. When one of them ventured too close to the throbbing heart, it was instantly sucked inside, and for a brief moment the heart beat faster.

  Elliot shuddered as he watched several of the spiders consumed, and yet there were always more appearing out of nowhere, ready to feed the hungry muscle at the center of its web. On the side of this jar it said:

  Selfishness

  “You see,” Orphelina lamented. “This is all they’ve left me.”

  “There has to be something in here we can use,” said Leslie. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about creature physics, it’s that it always surprises you with hidden alcoves and secret passages.” Leslie stepped past the first bookcase-tree and into a landscape like a diseased forest, a once lush jungle stripped to only the barest leaves and blossoms. “Come on, Elliot, I’ll bet we can find something. This is what we’re good at, remember?”

  Elliot followed his friend, recalling the Preston Brothers’ advice. “We just have to let our feet wander through the shelves,” he said, “and let our minds wander, too.”