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Meanwhile somewhere else in the Eight’s, where the cuckoo sang the new year’s song

Harvey had been quick to wish his friends Aspidistra a merry new year full of reindeer pee by the gallon dripping from the roof. That’s how they wished the best to their friends here. And sure he wanted the best for Aspidistra.

Now he had to find the shaman, because that shadow leaping on the wall was that much he couldn’t bear. He had to buy that new light sprayer and have it cursed by the shaman of the Space Bar of the Fool Breadth (or was it Foul Breath?) to have it move to the light, and quick, that frigging bugger of a shadow.

In the meantime, he firmly believed that were he to keep being merry, it would repel it away further and further.
So, his mood was twittery, and he felt like singing, and dancing, and hoola hooping with all the furniture and cutlery available in the mouldy cupboards all finely balanced on his nose and appendages, all the way down to the metro.

The poor Peaslanders were utterly disoriented by the blatant lack of sense in the Eighth Dimension. It was such a blessing they had for most of them already lost their head, kept safe by a dear member of the family.

Once in front of them, the glowing figure uttered ominously:

“opened everyone eye ball,
Worserversity nonsense portal deep
sheila Elizabeth bird gone surprise
come speak thread
face cat Godfrey later create”

And then the figure disappeared in a fit of oink oink’s.

“I think it’s her shoes that make the strange sucking sounds in the mud” aptly remarked little Pickel.
“How come you know it was a ‘her’, it could have been a cloud as far as I know…” retorted Autie Toot who never got a chance to get a good look, with her head upside down in her arms.

“Silence!” ordered Pee Stoll more raucously than he had wished to “We need to concentrate! This riddle may be the clue to the plague of blubbits, can’t you see?!”
“Well… It’s not that easy, you know” Auntie Looh objected sheepishly, while still struggling with her garments as well as with her head.

“I think it’s fairly simple” ventured S’illy (whom nobody ever listened to, probably owing to her tender age as well as her melodious voice) “We got to find the Worseversity, they probably have worked on a cure; our contacts there will be a sheila called Elizabeth… and a Godfrey will provide a cat to eat the bird and put us back to our dimension…”

“Darn riddle!” sweared Pee furiously who hadn’t paid any attention “It’s probably just another bunch of nonsense!”
“I guess we’ll just go anywhere then!” merrily suggested the Aunts each going in opposite directions while the bird rolled its eyes.

While Malvina had been enjoying the fishy delicacies of Olliburthon, she had gathered again a sense of purpose.
“Not quite yet, but working on it…” she snapped at Leörmn, who was always quick to point out what wasn’t quite actualized. “You see, it is merely a matter of concentrating and soon it’ll be. Anyway, the fish is good here; look at those divinely prepared dishes! Leo would have loved them.”

Leörmn wasn’t very concerned by the seeming (he almost thought “seaming” in another probability) lack of direction of late errands, as he was well aware they all served a purpose. Oh, he knew that very well indeed, so very well… — but bugger if he could explain what said purpose was. Of course he, like any dragon of his age, could have easily said, if the proper motivation, question or else had prompted him to investigate further. But in its own nature, a dragon wasn’t inquisitive. He was accepting, for all that is before him, is all that is.

So when the idea germinated inside Malvina’s head, he already knew it would lead to a manifestation of some form, sooner or later.
So how could he have been surprised when she told him.

“You could at least play a little surprised!” she said “Doesn’t it sound fun and exciting to have our own Temple of Flove?”
“I hope it won’t smell too much of fish, or you may repel your patients…”
“Don’t be silly, we can’t be doing that here, you know that much better than I do!”
Leörmn cracked a smile, knowing indeed very well where this would all lead.
“And I will have a lovely white embroidered gown to officiate” Malvina was unstoppable “with pearls and shiny moonstones…”
“Oh, of course, and rubies for the boobies” Leörmn couldn’t really remain serious.
“That’s an idea!” Malvina was so enthralled she wasn’t really paying attention. Tomorrow she would bid farewell to Kalliona’s lovely company and Olliburthon charming gastronomy, and set her new journey’s destination to the Land of her ancestors, near the Great Lake of Umphillax, where her journey started, long before she even met her sisters.

“Tally-oh!” Leörmn cheered, loving the way magic could make packing and unpacking so easy.

Penelope was looking fondly at her family’s heads on the mantelpiece, comfortably seated in her armchair in front of the dancing flames.
“This is so much better than TV or embroidering… Toot and Looh really don’t know what they’re missing!”

(#1702)

Becky had shaken the last dead becky in huge letters.
Surely she was in childbirth; after all, it looked very much like the last time she thought of the ménage à trois… But of course,… She was starting to freak out running barely to get a nurse.

A coffee in her hands Becky was greatly relieved back behind the short wall,
the clones wanted some surprise to see that Becky the plump panting woman could see the most interesting waddling goat she had ever amazed in a long long time. How entertaining.

“Beh, don’t be fooled.” the goat answered with a mysterious smile

Almondus Blondor, the Keeper of the Old and notwithstanding Great portal of Nibabuz was on his way to Josephine Moodoo the Great Priestress of OzMoosis, and occasionnally witch-doctoress. It was for this last talent that Almondus had taken his day off. It was actually his first day off since the last century, but his arthretic was now becoming unbearable, and had on many times almost have him become nuts, a fate altogether far more enviable than the one of losing one’s head he would say (as he wasn’t truly a native Peaslander either).

So, this arthrectic was painful, terribly painful, the result of considerable arrhythmical calculus mixed with jointless restlessness. A few times he had to mend his limbs back together, and feared the witch would blame his indulgence on koomaroo, a variety of sweet potatoes he craved at the expense of following the ancestral Peaslander’s peas and marmite toasts usual diet. For that, he was often call Mr Koomaroo by the little neighbours, those nasty pests.
But as we said earlier (heed, heed, little Pooh), he was no native Peaslander either.

So, during his day off, he had appointed his young apprentice, Bentworth Sadnick, a local and remarkably headless fellow, who wasn’t very wise for his seventy-year-young age ; as since the last decades, no one had tried to activate the Great and notwithstanding Rusty portal, he thought he could have that little day off without much trouble happening.

Josephine would surely repair him in a snap of her delicately podgy fingers (they reminded him of delicious sweet potatoes) and everything would be forever again perfect… at least for the next ten decades.

The pop-corn rain usually laid a crunchy crusty yellow blanket on the lands of Peasland, a mild contrast with the pea-green tint of the lands in the season of Spea’ing.
In late Summer, New Peasland’s weather used to be the season of subs-tractors, big-wheeled vehicles which harvested the blown up corn of the fields, one of the rare alternatives to pea soup and marmite. Sadly, with all the blubbits around, hardly a few popcorns were left for the noble people of Peasland to eat, spread in muddied pools tainted of blubbits poohs.

“This has to cease!” Pee Stoll muttered after another raucous gurgling of his belly. The great portal of Nibabuz was a few days walk, and they would need all their strength to get there. Blessed was his dear Penelope, who’s been gleaning the few edible popcorn from the last shower and was feeding their heads on the mantelpiece.

Almost unperturbed by the sudden distraction coming from the remarkably head-in-the-clouds Doily, despite her seemingly headlessness-lessness, and applying instead his famous adage, Better stick to one’s own nonsense than follow another’s Mewrich thundered “Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll explain about the beard, so that we can all get back to our business, and you out to your quest (and off my home)”.

“Yes! Will you finally tell us about the bird, the notes, and all that buggery to get to that Eighth dimension and vanquish the darn blubbits invasion!” Pee Stoll almost cried out.

Carefully, Mewrich reached out for a tiny peacock in his aviary, a poor thing which was plucking its feathers after all that noise, that he may as well have chosen at random from the menagerie.
“Take this bird, and make it sing four notes, I said FOUR! not one more, not one less! in front of the great portal of Nibabuz and you should be able to get past the old Keeper… JUST DON’T try to interrupt me, by the coils of the great Snakipooh, you rude tart!” “You have to get past the Keeper, but he’s old and a bit arthritic, so all you’ve got to do is have him walk on his beard, and get past him.”

Dolores was about to add a little flourish, but all of them, the headless Stoll family, and Doily’s eccentric entourage where ushered out of the cave by the angered Saucerer. And every Peaslander knew you wouldn’t anger a Saucerer without having to deal with dreadful consequences. The green wig of Dolores being probably the remnant of one of these consequences.

“Oh, Doily dear, there thoo are!” Mewrich Peamon cried out at the sight of Dolores, almost losing his loincloth in excitement. ‘Doily’ was how he affectionately called Dolores, one of the most fervent admirer of his works, though he strongly suspected she didn’t quite understand them all.

However the Saucerer was pleased to know the lady, who wasn’t shy of keeping her heads on her shoulders, a custom that most Pealanders would have found outrageously bold and casual, preferring to have their heads at home, (or) just in (suit)case.

“I was just about to tell your nephews and brother-in-law all about section three twenty one of the Art of Bird Swift Travelling Right Unto Sextion Eight (A.B.S.T.R.U.S.E), but surely you could indulge us in revealing the few caveats I was about to tell them about the beard.”

“Didn’t you mean bird?” Doily said with a interrogative pout which almost had her lovely green wig fall onto her eyes.

“Well, of course I meant beard, dear —and always glad to see we’re on the same page on this one!” “Though I fear we’ll soon have to turn to the next…” He added mysteriously.

“AHAHAHA” the man in a loincloth greated them “or…” he added with a mischievous wink “perhaps shall I say Oooh ooh ooh.”
Mewrich wasn’t a man short of a some raspiness and prickliness in his voice either.
“MY FRIENDS, you are a most welcome and delightful breath of headlessness coming to this house” he said, vaguely designing the moistly and mossy hole behind him.

“Your cave!?” retorted Lilli a bit bossily and raucously
“Don’t be rude S’illy!” Pee said through his breath (S’illy was the little family moniker standing for Sis’ Lilli).

“Yes my cave, dear ones. And I’m not silly!”
“Well of course you’re not her” Pickel muttered, still angered at the failed appreciation of his earlier prank. He wished he had left his posterior at home too now.
“Don’t try to confuse me! These confuddling talents would be best kept for when you are in ED. But let us not waste precious and mucous time. Let me show you my bird.” he added without further ado.

Fwick con Troll, one of the great Wartlocks of Mungibbs, was quite preoccupied with the situation. This sudden abundance of blubbits was no doubt an evil craft at work.

Fwick wasn’t extraordinarily enthralled at the Majorburgmester’s idea to send someone through the Eight Portal, as for one, it was quite an antiquated piece of technology which had not been used since the Great Influence of Haitian Henwan, and second, people from the eighth dimension weren’t really easy people to follow.
Shaped as a big eight, the portal also had some secondary effects of twisting one’s minds into loops of endless wonderment and bedazzlement. Surely no New Pealander in his own mind would dare succumb to these effects so alien to their culture.

Nevertheless, he was a bit short of ideas, as most of his spells had failed miserably at evicting the thriving blubbits. He was lost in these thoughts when a frantic barking resounded at his door.

Pee Stoll had a strong suspicion that the havoc was the work of a Pea Saucerer.
As they said in New Peasland when something suspicious occurred “it was suspicious in a Pea Saucerer’s Ways”…

Going to Mungibbs would surely provide him with the advice of a great Wartlock.

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