The tavern housed a generous amount of patrons that night, although it was closer to morning at the late hour. The bar was lined with a great diversity of people from all lands, and the tables were filled with travelers whom have never met before, save for from this lack of seating. Little conversation passed among the drunks unless it was to order more mead or slothful attempts to start fights before failing to stand up properly. The hour of the last call drew closer, and they knew that soon they would have to either remember where they lived or where they were heading. The scene was typical of the pub, as was the night. Nothing spectacular had happened this night, as with most, and the few remaining moments were expected to slip by the same.

Hear, ye! Hear, ye! a powerful voice boomed from nowhere, The Rumbl-o-Rama is 'pon ye all! The bar erupted into frenzied commotion. Some of it was dozed drunkards slipping from their daze and chairs alike by the sudden outburst, but, more so, it was those who could not believe the declaration. Many had heard the tales surrounding the first Rumbl-o-Rama, mucked as they were by word of mouth. The great treasures and perils that surrounded the adventure had swept across the land in short time. Fortune hunters and glory seekers from across the land of Ref had pondered if they, too, might have a chance at such a journey. Long they have waited, but now, after elapsing one year, one month, one week, and one day from the original declaration of the great Rumbl-o-Rama, it comes again.

Laid low in the Deli Dale runs a swift river, home to the Merry Cherry Ferry. To any brave enough to captureth this vessel, they shall be taken to the Legendary Dairy!

"Hey, now," cried out a large warrior clad in crimson who lifted himself about the chaotic crowd, "I thought the dairy product of lore was already obtained?"

Nay, fool! That was the Cheddar Legendairy, kept by the Hairy Dairy Fairy! Ye shall seeketh the Sharp Cheddar Legendairy! And, to reacheth this meaty locale, ye must treketh the harsh lands of the jagged Cotton Mountain, the torrential Rapids of Caramel, the ... On the voice trailed, naming more ridiculous areas after another. Dodging the rampaging crowd as they darted to fit through or even find the exit, a blue robed maiden obtained a mop and approached the middle of the wide room. ... the great Carpeted Canyon, the ominous Forest of Crayons, the Desert of what art thou doing with that mop? Hey, ceaseth that! The gold masked woman prodded the rafters with the end of the handle, knocking done a figure. Standing itself up, the slim man with shaggy brown hair hanging over his blank face, who donned a simple red t-shirt and a sign hung around his neck reading, "GARY" dusted himself off.

"Just who the hell are you?" demanded a sickly figure swaddled in dirty cloths.

I am the Nary Wary Gary, of course, overseer of the Rumbl-o-Rama, he informed. What? Thou never heardeth of me before?

"No," the tavern echoed in unison, a cry that most felt they just to call out, not even knowing why.

Fine, he choked, wiping off a tear from his eyeless face.

"Wait, Mr. Gary," questioned a finned beast, "isn't the Deli Dale just down the road from here?"

... Thy point?

"Couldn't we not go through all that trouble of those other places and just go straight there?" Staring the blue dog, a snap of his fingers was followed by a large crash as a giant wall fell from the sky, blocking the path.

"Oh, real nice."

'Tis. Now then, the great Rumblo is on! Goeth! What little room was left for the panic to grow was filled in a violent frenzy. One individual, however, was collectedly calm about the matter.

"Well, that sounds good and all, but I don't care," bolstered the frigid figure, "I'm going to go on my own adventure." Bending at the waist until almost parallel to the floor, he darted for the door.

"No, you fool, don't go out there!" attempted to warn a large marauder clad in horned, blood red armor. "There's ancient zombies and swamp gas!" As gazes turned outside, they saw squadrons of wiggly deadmen interspersed between splotchy clouds, which were oddly all swiped up by a painted Kraken who became split in twine by nothing at all. However, before the frosted adventurer could leave through the door, the wall he walked by was smashed on top of him as a giant robot emerged through the hole.

"I'm Griff, the Uranium Golem!" it crackled through grainy speakers. "I must destroy all! Charging electromagnetic rod cannon!" The middle of the robots chest released, and the hatch fell to its waist, revealing a large barrel. Pumping its arms back and forth, it charged up the cannon.

"That's not public appropriate!" a bulbous man with a canister straped on his back pointed out. When fully energized, two orbs of light, one white, one black, were ejected from the barrel and traveled in wild paths.

"Officer: Did someone call me?" a cop questioned, emerging through the entrance just in time to catch the blunt of the white orb in his stomach. "Ooh," he groaned, grasping his abdomen from which poured out squiggly lines, "I'm hungry!"

"Why did you address who you are?" asked a large eyed, spiky haired man who slide into view from nowhere. The black orb hit the man without steps, revealing him to be a nine foot tall human or so everyone thought!

"I should have seen this coming," the alien, apparently, stated. "After all, I am telepsychic! And I can shoot telepsychic evergies from my Titanium-steel hands!" Everyone did their best to ignore the giant nuisance until he was crushed by a large, silver disk with the printing, "Skull Badge."

Um, yeah. Ye... ye art not invited. Hanging their heads, or what remained of them in most cases, they all slowly removed themselves from the bar in shame. The mysterious figures hiding themselves in the corner watched the transpiring events, while entirely removed from them, tapping their fingers together speaking of how everything was going as planned until Gary chased the trio off with a broom.

"Extrasharp dairy product o' lore?" spouted one of the only few members left sitting, only due to the fact that he refused to abandon his ale. "Bah! Had I known o' this, I would not have wasted my time so long ago." His time was squandered, too, as all his efforts awarded him nothing. His chair swayed on its back legs as he spoke to no one for his sickly limbs were propped up high on the table, displaying his ruddy, brown hose. A tattered, regal colored jacket adorned his chest, the color barely showing through the years of dust from his travels. He wore his hat low with his collar high. From out the flimsy brim of his headwear stuck two pointed ears while strains of thin, orange hair hung down, masking over his beady eyes already hidden in the shadows. Bandages, stained with blood of his own and enemies, wrapped about his hands, neck, feet, arms, waist, and tail, possibly serving as the only things that held his outfit together. He was Bimblesnaff Bogg, the Lunatic, and lived the first Rumbl-o-Rama nearly a year ago. Amidst his pondering, a single claw of his three moved from scratching his scarcely haired, jutting chin to his sharp nose. "This time would prolly not be any different from the last," the green fiend considered, "however, this lot does seem grossly incompetent." And Bogg knew incompetence. Swinging his bare feet from off the table's top, the lanky freak stood to his full stoop, carelessly tossing his mug behind him. With his bent blade slung over his shoulder, he shoved away the aimless seekers as he made his way to the door. "I said it before," while beating his way through a sea of shoulders, "and I'll say it again: I sure hope no one tries to hamper m'attempt at procurin' this delectable treat."

Pfft. Yeah, right.

It's a race

To the place

To feed your face.

(Let the insanity begin)

Dark eyes glinted behind straggling few strands that fell from the figure's face as he raised it to his foe. Of all the targets there, this one stood out beyond the others.

"So," he narrated to his enemy, "it comes again. Every time I get close, the prize slips through my claws. No matter how far I travel in these many lands of Ref, there has never been as formidable a foe as you." Slowly, his arm lifted. His fingers gripped the handle of his weapon cautiously. "There are others, yes -- many others. None of them matter. You are the only one that concerns me in this contest. It is my obsession, my madness," he continued, narrowing his broad eyes. He eased his hand forward, readying for the strike. "But no more. I shall not let you stop me again -- nothing will; the prize is mine!" His thumb rolled up, depressing the switch at the top of the lever. Immediately, the cold, iron claw descended upon its prey, successfully making contact, but the man was far too experienced to let this raise his spirits. He had to keep the mind of a true warrior, even if he could do nothing now but watch.

The contraption slowly squeezed down. It clumsily rolled about with uneven, jerky movements, centered around the hook caught beneath the target. It finally came to a still, latched about that which he sought so much, but there still was no change in his expression. He watched on with a cold, unyielding gaze as the crane separated his treasure from the chaff. It dangled from the bottom of the hold quite freely; it was not a clean catch. Wider and wider his eyes grew as he watched the uneasily return, each jolt twisting his prized yet unpossessed Manatee Can-a-teen more and more from his surrogate grasp.

Mere moments from a safe return, the prize made its escape, diving down to the pit from which it came and exit the same. It somersaulted off from the barrier and eluded capture and the outside world once more.

"Dammit!" let out our lone figure, as well as a blow that rocked the crane game from its feeble, four-legged foundation. "I cannot keep losing like this; I am almost out of quarters. Why did they have to make them so tasty?" he wondered, popping another handful into a greedy mouth. "Mmmmm, minty."

"Do not despair, child," an eerie yet non-booming voice called from the background.

"Who said that?" our bewildered hero asked. "Was it you, chair? I'm thinking it was you," he interrogated with accusing eyes and shaky fist.

"Nay, 'twas I!" it announced and made itself present by phasing into sight. "I am the Spirit of Rumblo!"

"Wait, there's no such thing as a Spirit of Rumblo."

"Anything is possible," it explained in a comedic falsetto, "when you drink enough of what's in these drinks!"

"You mean rubbing alcohol?"

"You wish," it quickly responded.

"So," began the lone one, "why does a spirit need to wear a sheet?"

"What, I thought ghosts were supposed to look like this?"

"Oh, no-no, they are, but," he assured, "you're already a spirit. Is it really necessary for you to, y'know, dress up like one when you are one?"

"And I suppose people aren't allowed to dress like people, then?" it retorted, lowering its high pitch to an angered medium-high tone. "Besides, I'm dressed in a sheet from the spirit world, so I'm, like, extra ghosty. Whoo-ooo-oooOOO!"

"Okay, okay, jeez," he submitted, gesturing back the unruly spirit. "You sure are testy for a guy that's just a drunken illusion. I won't rag on your rags anymore... but..."

"Buuuut?" goaded on the ghost.

"Buuuut... why do you need sheets in the spirit world?" he returned.

"Well, dressing up like this, pretty much."

"Ah, I see," calmly said he. "So... is there a reason you're here or somethin'?"

"What? Oh, right," remembered the Spirit of Rumblo. "I am here to tell you that the Rumbl-O-Rama has begun once again!"

"What? Why didn't I hear about this?"

"I... I don't know," it stammered. "I mean, it only happened about two minutes ago right over there," it informed, expending its formless body in the direction of the crowded exit.

"Ah, what's the point?" he admitted. "I usually give up those things once I remember that I'm an idiot, which usually comes around the time when I can't remember how to get my head out of a pickle jar," he unfortunately informed, despite the saddening number of times it had happened to him, "or how my head even got stuck there in the first place."

"That is where I come in!" interrupted the spirit. "I was sent so that you may see the true path; look at the crane game. Master it, and you will master the Legendairy."

"Aww, I've been trying all afternoon," complained our lone hero, "and then I took a nap, and if something can't be done in an afternoon and non-napping portion of a night's time -- time spent mostly drunk -- then it can't be done at all." But, just as the ghost had told him, the true path was revealed. "Yes, of course!" our joyous hero recited. "I now know the answer!"

"Yes! Go forth an- hey, what are you doing?" the spirit asked of a suddenly raised chair, soon sank through the glass box that once was the crane game. Leaping atop the metal frame of the shattered machine, the vagrant plunged his arm deep inside. He threw back his chest and arm and hand in a single, swift motion, ripping the Manatee Can-a-teen free from its passtime prison.

The vagrant loosed his grip on the canteen, allowing its strap to slide down his sleeve down to his shoulder, while he firmed his grip on his weapon of choice. He cast his hateful gaze downward to the devastated enemy he had fought so long and so bitterly against. With another mighty bound, he launched himself far across the opposite end of the pub. His worn, blue jacket wrapped around his kneeling body as he came to a sudden crash on the floor.

"Hey!" complained the individual he had just landed in front of. "No cuts!" The vagrant rolled one enormous eye upwards to him from beneath his azure headware. He slowly rose to a hunching stance such that his stare never left its menacing slant. His spear, still at hand, dragged across the tavern floor as he turned to face this other competitor for the Cheese. "Oh no you don't!" he whined, shakily commanding a robot army of a leech, a mole, and a lava giant to attack. "Nobody messes with Hey Cheng, Master of Suck!"

But the blue clad vagrant gave them no heed. He jumped straight at and onto the Master of Suck, clasped onto his collar, and pulled him into the bill of his hat.

"That first post was enough," he growled. "We don't need anymore inside jokes."

"Who, me?" a voice squeaked from the vagrant's stomach.

"Be quiet, Oh-Snappicus Prime!" the vagrant verbally assaulted the internal oven. Using the moment of extreme confusion to his advantage, he flipped himself backwards off of Hey Cheng and over the crowd to the top of the door frame. Gripping onto the wall, he hung upside down, managed to keep his hat from falling through unknown means, and issued a very vertigoed thumbs-up from his one free, webbed hand. With a deep, guttural croak, the frog spat out a bomb (as well as some quarters and a few buttons he did not wish to account for) into the center of the crowded bar.

"The king is back, baby," the Rex Ranarum last issued before swinging up and out from the bar to venture forth to the jagged, frozen peaks of the warm, fuzzy Cotton Mountain

From the rubble that flew into a tree from the bar, a man fell, as luck would have it, into a pile of unwashed spoons. "Ouch." said the man, thinking of nothing else more appropriate to say. Standing up and dusting spoons off his tyedyed plaid trenchcoat, he proclaimed: “With my dull knife and trusty almighty egg-friend, I shall be the one to first cut the cheese for my own!” With that a kamikaze wedding cake rendered him unconscious, serving temporary justice to all.

Meanwhile at the top of Cotton Mountain…there was a slight breeze and a seventeen percent chance of wind. It was slightly cloudy with a slight overbite. Regardless, no one was there yet save for a bird, which was impaled by jagged cotton! After a while it flew away.

Back at the bar, for unknown reasons at the late hour, children began to fill the streets and play in the burning wreckage of the pub, some digging for treasure, some running around on fire as only children could, while others had contests to see who could eat the most glass, or remains of kamikaze wedding cake.

From the remains of the wedding cake that flew into the man, rose…the man, as a kid bit him. “Wretched ingrate! How dare you bite the Great fashion mage Kodiro! I’ll turn your clothes into knockoffs!” With that the children swarmed the suave sorcerer, and he was forced to sow their pantlegs together, as he ran off, the cunning runts…cried.

Questing ahead of the rest of the few that weren’t lactose intolerant, Lunatic Bogg strolled toward the pneumatic cotton mountain, taking the scenic Hu Knows route. The very scenic Hu Knows route. Ol’ Snaff’s eyes were fixated…on a rock.

“Stop staring at my curves, you monster!” It shrieked feeling quite offended.

“I’m just making a sketch of the tattoo of the tribal “Map to the Legendairy” on your backside! It’s art!” A really big boat flew over head. A cry from above rang out: “Foolish Ghobling! This ship I flung will reach the summit of the mountain long before you reach the base. A huge thud sounded as the Frogman touched down a short distance from the sexually harassed stone. All three watch as the vessel never fit to fly was engulfed by the mountain. The Minty One glowered in his achievement, and then continued his trek on webbed feet.

“At the rate of your sketches you’ll never make it on time.” Commented a smiling cat behind Bimblesnaff.

“Who the heck are you?” Bogg stopped playing hangman with the rock and continued copying the tattoo.

“I am McDuff the Fluff, and I would like to take you in as my apprentice as I quest for the sharp legendairy, what say thee?”

The obtusely dressed mage came upon the seen of a green man wearing cat collar that said “McDuff” playing tictactoe with a henna enscribed rock covered with what seemed to be fur. Kodiro decided to continue on walking.

“I smell wedding cake,” Snaff looked up. “catch ya later tutz.”

“I thought you loved me!”

“Shove it!”

“But I’m a supossi-”

Kodiro only walked faster

From the bathroom of the tavern, the only part to escape the destruction, entered a man dressed in a close fitting black costume.

"What did I miss?" he said before looking up to see a riot of flaming children running through what was left of the bar.

The man moved stealthily towards the door to avoid the demonic looking children. His movements could be described only as almost catlike, he moved without sound, merging with the night. However, before reaching the door he managed to trip despite the relatively smooth section of floor.

"173," he counted, "That's a new daily record."

He then picked himself up and professionally dusted himself off before stepping out of what was left of the bar.

"What happened here," he asked to nobody in particular.

"Rumbl-o-Rama," croaked the owner of the wreckage before falling flat on his face.

"Rest in peace good man," replied the slightly confused man. "Rumbl-o-Rama eh? Sounds like fun."

The man had no difficulty following the action due to trail of corpses and offended stones. After a few hours he saw a strange sight.

"Oh my. That horrible green man is attacking those poor zombies. I have to help them. Gariland to the rescue," he shouted while charging towards the fight with swords in the air

Nary Wary Gary, The Voice and overseer of Rumblo!, approached a grizzled man in the corner wearing faded green armor. This corner was inexplicably untouched by bombs nor flames nor cannibal children. The man eclipsed the small framed NWG, even while sitting and sipping from a vile looking mug which actually contained wine cooler. Of course nobody would ever know.

Ya know, I just announced another coming of Rumbl-o-rama. Weren't you somehow involved in the last one, like some kind of funk monk or something?

From underneath his weathered face two eyes lit aflame at the words. D was sweating bullets.

You should probably get that looked at. Bullets coming out of the pores and flaming eyes just aren't healthy for humans.

Upon realizing that his eyes were in fact on fire, the giant doused himself with a pitcher from the adjoining table, belonging to a multitude of ninjas.

"Now that is just rude." Ninja 7 said under his breath.

The man finally spoke to Gary, in a voice that sounded like rocks were being dragged across his vocal cords to make the hoarse sounds coming out of his throat.

Come again? NWG asked, wondering about the strange tones he just heard.

Coughing up several rocks and a very confused buffalo, D attempted to speak again. "Oh sorry. Yeah, I was the funk knight, but those days are over. I've lost too much to my adventures, my youth, my friends and family, lost loves..."

But... The last Rumblo was like a year ago or something. That can't put you at a day over 26.

"...Nope there is no return to the funk knight. I may just live my days out in this broken down, smoldering excuse for a tavern. A broken man... I am the grizzled knight VinnyD." The grayed giant wallowed in self pity.

Hmmm. Well, fine. No sweat off my back. In fact, come to think of it I don't even know why I continually announce this thing. Nobody even pays attention anyway.

D was roused from his thoughts by Gary's attempts to leave.

"What? You say that I may regain my youth if I seek this so called 'Candy Bar of Justice' I may return to my former fantastic funkadelic f word state?"

No! That's not even what its called? What the hel..

"That is great news!" Vin shouted wringing the small man with his gargantuan arms. For a moment, the hairs on his face seemed to return to their previous jet black state, but he released NWG and sprayed a generic can labeled 'make your hair look gray now' onto is face. He then eyed the rest of the tavern's patrons which were either buried under rubble or a ninja busy quarreling over soup.

"Yep. Grizzled and old and broken knight..." D attempted to stealthily exit through a doorway with these words, only to burst through a wall next to it, which made no sense since it was the only section of wall which had not been knocked over. Scuttling into a forest which was most likely not on the way to anything important, D missed seeing a sign labeled 'Forest of insignificance to issues at hand'.

Meanwhile other beings, some somehow related to the story and some not, did stuff of and not of significance!

Darkness covered everything. Then, slowly but surely, eyes opened to the sight of a new world and adventure. Or rather, simply to the sky.

From out of a pile of rubble just outside the former entrance to the bar, a young man rose. A very young man, in fact, with black hair, brown eyes, a blue-and-white striped shirt, a pair of jeans, and a pair of sneakers. Although Hadoleo Syniarian was quite injured and bruised, he wouldn’t let that stop him.

“Good thing I kept these in here,” he muttered to himself, taking out a case from his left pocket, and opening it to take out a pair of glasses and put them on his face. It wasn’t like he truly needed them, though, since without them his vision was only slightly more blurred than normal. By mere coincidence had Hadoleo decided to put away his glasses due to discomfort before somebody decided to blow the bar. Also by mere coincidence had he been close to the entrance and therefore not taken a full blast.

While looking himself over and confirming that all his body parts were intact, Hadoleo suddenly realized that he was missing his most important possession. After looking around the outside of the ruined bar, evading flaming children, and not finding what he was after, he concluded that his only option was to investigate the bar itself. Of course, he failed to take in all his other countless options in his dire situation.

“Looking for something?” a random passerby asked.

“Yes. I’m looking for…this!” Hadoleo exclaimed upon retrieving his prized blue possession from underneath a ruined table. Gleefully, he slung it across his shoulders and looked himself over as best as he could with a lack of a mirror to see himself in his former glory.

“A…blue backpack?” the passerby questioned skeptically. “Why the heck would you bring a backpack to a place like this?!”

“Ummm…I’m a student. Er…was, kinda,” he replied. “I guess I just got into the habit and beat of the school schedule, so, yeah.”

“…Right. What are you doing, anyway?”

“I was…lured here by a bunch of liars promising a great educational field trip! They happened to leave out the part about a plan to blow the place up!” Hadoleo exclaimed. Then his memory recovered the vital information regarding the announcement of the new Rumbl-o-Rama and he quickly amended, “Uh, but now I apparently have an adventure.” He had heard and read about the first Rumbl-o-Rama and had since envied those lucky enough to embark upon such a quest and experience its experiences first-hand. Now, it was his chance to seize.

“You don’t look like someone up for an adventure,” the random passerby commented.

Just then, Hadoleo noticed the bodies of many others present during the announcement stir. Realizing that he did not want to be stuck with the mess of loser characters, he quickly replied with a true excuse, “Sorry, but I think I’m behind. I have to hurry and catch up.” He then ran in the direction of the Cotton Mountain.

“Hey! Weren’t you injured from the explosion?”

“OW!!!” the student exclaimed as he staggered from the pain that had just caught up to him from his bruised running legs. “Don’t mention that to me!”

“…Weirdo,” the passerby muttered before being mobbed by the children

Some lone pile of refuse stirred in the corner of the bar as a tall, slim man rose from the scraps. With spindled fingers, he dusted off his deep crimson colored coat.

"Gee, sir, are you okay?" stopped to question one of the innocent, flaming children, deeming the answer more important than her own extinguishment. "Were you in the explosion?"

"No, actually," confessed the stranger, adjusting his fingerless gloves. "This corner was unscathed by the blast. I was just... hanging out under there. That's were the cool people are." Two attractive woman peeped out from beneath the mess, martinis in hand, begging when the tall man would return. "In due time, ladies, in due time. I have a more important matter at hand," he proclaimed.

"Do you mean the Rumbl-o-Rama, mister?" enthusiastically queried the lass, now nearly a skeleton charred black. Chuckling, he patted her on the head, crumbling her to ash, but his beady eyes did not witness her ultimate destruction.

"Yes, wee one, it is the Rumblo I seek." His hairless brows slanted as he spoke with intensity in his voice. "Long have I lusted for the lactose of lore, and the moment is now here for me to seize it!"

And just who are you, brave traveller? questioned the signed master of ceremony. A gleam transversed the bald man's head as he rose his hand boldly into the air.

"I am Kno Wuhn," he declared before promptly disappearing from all time and space with a "pop" noise, never to be heard of again.

Huh. Oookay. Normal. But, our other adventurers are well off at their task. Bimblesnaff and Ranarum have already reached the base of the treacherous Cotton Mountains, and pursuers are close by.

"Who are you talking to?" questioned sickly man with long, black hair as he munched on his duck dinner.

Silence! I speak to all!

"Fear not, noble zombie," the hero in black proclaimed. "I, Gariland, shall save you from that horrible fiend." Lunging forward with his sword, he slipped upon his own feet and crashed to the ground as the number "174" popped up from his form before fading away as mysteriously as it came.

"Zombie? Foo'," Kodiro scolded, "I best learn you! Would a dead man dress this classy?" Before a response could be given, he pushed away a cadaver wearing a "Save the Whales" shirt, who commented that the situation was, in fact, "Not Groovy", but his rotted tongue prevented its understanding. Pulling back his tye-dye plaid coat and sticking out his leg, he showed off his classy rainbow striped pants and pink shirt, complete with tacky gold chain around the neck.

"Oh, my apologies," the heroic lad begged as he removed himself from the earth. "I thought you were a '60s zombie."

"You question the great Fashion Mage?" Angily throwing out an arm, a wand studded in rhinestones and tassels popped out of his sleeve. "Take this, you style-challenged boy! I'm gonna give you five more degrees of gay dress sense!" Before he could activate his magic stick, the cackling lunatic leapt onto his back, forcing him to the ground.

"Ya must be the fool, laddy," Bogg snarled, "as this one was only to help ya from me. Now, as I was sayin' before ya interrupted me: Yer hair sucks! I mean, what is it? 'Tisn't hippy, 'tisn't emo, and I hate both of those to start with!" Pulling off a scarf and wadding it up, he threw it, without much affect, down at the flattened wizard. "And that is what ya get for tellin' me to accessorize!"

"But it brings out your eyes!" Kodiro croaked as the freak bound off from his back. Gariland tried to catch the maniac before he fled but managed to trip over the sorcerer of style.

"177," the young man moaned.

"177? What happened to 175?" the multicolored magician questioned as he got himself up. "And 176?"

"... I fell twice when no one was paying attention to me," whimpered the valiant youth.

"Oh... well, I know what will cheer you up," proclaimed Kodiro, "a fabulous makeover! I mean, all black? Really, what are you? A "the Goth"?" he actually stated, with the double articles. Aiming his wand of styling, it sparked and flickered when channeled into. "Uh-oh, I think it got damaged in that fall," he reasoned, "or the batteries are dying." Looking at his makeover victim, he jumped. "Yeeeeeh."

"What? What happened to me?" demanded Gariland.

"Nothing, nothing," answer the wizard, pulling his head from a increasingly smelling bucket that seemed to come from no where. "Just avoid mirrors and people for a while, that's all." As he turned to bolt away, a perfect looking glass tumbled from his vestment. "Keep it," he shouted as he was already almost out of view. "I have eight more." Trembling, the man looked down at his own reflection.


That is not important, however. Well, it is, but it can be gotten back to. The King of the Frogs was currently in the lead, scaling the dangerous side of the Cotton Mountain, stopping periodically for drinks from his Manatee Can-a-teen despite it not yet being filled. The rough giant of the single initial had gotten lost in the Forest of Insignificance to Issues at Hand and decided a faster solution would be stealing matches from a local bear and burning down the entire woodlands. It was not until afterwards that he questioned the worthwhileness of his actions and quickly retreated back to (what was left of) the tavern to dodge the police. There, he encountered the injured young student, Hadoleo, where he mistook him for a puppy and decided to take it with him on his trek. Hadoleo, on the other hand, mistook the old knight for a bear with matches and pretended to be dead for a few hours before both were able to see the mistakes they made.

"Why are you telling me this?" Gariland questioned the Nary Wary Gary as he dashed by, temporarily distracted from the problem at hand.

Because I can!

"So, are you sure this is how I get to the Terrific Taco of Truth to restore my dead wife?" D jumbled facts to his new found ally set atop his broad shoulders.

"Er, sure, why not," the youth agreed just for the sake of ease. "You were married?"

"No," the gruff individual corrected. "It was more of a dog than a wife," he expounded, "and it was actually my lost childhood."

"So, the dog," Syniarian tried to comprehend the mess as he consulted a psychology book from his trusty backpack, "it is a representation of your lost youth being a treasured memory?"

"What on Ems' Ref are you talking about?" Vin pondered. "I never had a dog."

"Riiight," reluctantly agreed the student. "Just keep going straight." The peaks of the Cotton Mountains had come into view some time ago, and they were already advancing up the wide spread sloping base. It would not be long before they were at the steepening face. "Do you hear... rambling?"

"All shall suffer once I get m' hands on that Lengendairy!" As they drew nearer, the spotted a gaunt frame hanging from the side of the mountain, clinging to the pillowy crags on sharp claws. "No one can stop me! Not anyone or any two!" A #2 pencil fell from above, sticking square in Bimblesnaff's head. "Ha! See? I purple wrapper shine!" Pulling the object out, he repeated, "I win again!"

"This is the place, giant oaf," commanded Hadoleo from D's shoulders. "Now scale that fluffy peak!"

"This mountain isn't the boss of me," grunted Vin as he showed no signs of slowing down as he approached the face. Breaking the surface, with a mighty blow, he tunneled through the solid foundation of cotton, fading into the darkness with only his majestic cape dimming into the shadows. 'Leo, of course, was knocked flat on his ass outside of the burrowed hole.

"Why am I always hurt?" he weeped as an amphibious familiarity had its fall broken by him.

"It's terrible, man, you don't want to go up there," the blue clad vagrant warned. "It's mayhem, it's nauseating, it's China Town!"

"Really?" gleefully spoke Bogg, licking his lips lustfully.

"Metaphorically," added the frog man.

"Damn, and I really wanted some hot Asian," moped the fiend, "chicken. Gee, that pause sure seemed awkward."

"Whoa whoa whoa WHOA," spoke up the student, removing himself from the indention in the earth made in his image. "Why can't we go up there?"

"Because it's there, man," he frantically screamed. "The legends are true."

"Legends, ey?" Digging into his faithful backpack, Hadoleo removed a book titled, Legends, Mythos, and Facts Pertaining to The Course of the Second Rumbl-o-Rama by N.W. Gary. "And they mocked me for purchasing the nonrequired books for my classes. Well, who's laughing now?"

Meanwhile, at a college book store, the employees laughed haughtily as they sipped the fanciest of wine and dined on caviar, which they did not even like the taste of.

"Always a pleasure, Gary, really," sarcastically put 'Leo as he thumbed through his book.

"It was there, I tell, and it was hideous," the vagrant continued to rant on as roars could be heard descending the mountain. "It was the most aweful thing of all time." The student hastily worked to find where the Cotton Mountains were in the book, but it was not written in alphebetical or chronological order. It was actually paged by "which tasted better", a horrible system by anyones standards, except for maybe...

"Wha ah dose rars?" came the muffled question from Bimblesnaff's cotton filled mouth. Finding the entry, Hadoleo read about how a terrible beast lived near the top of the Cotton Mountains. It was believed to be a dinosaur that survived the Ice Age, one that no fossils have record of. It was the greatest of all dinosaurs. As tremors of its approach drew nearer, the scholar looked up with the blood drained from his face.

"Guys, this is no ordinary dinosaur," he squeaked. "It's no Albertasaurus or Stegosaurus... It is Thesaurus!"

"Wait," commented Bogg, "you mean like the boo-"

"Tome!" boomed a giant sized, bound set of pages, replacing his word with a similar one.

"... Actually, guys, I didn't see that before," the Ranarum admitted. "I was horrified by the bill board I saw saying Pepsi One was coming back.

As I go to get my hourly refill of my attention deficit medication, we return to the The Tavern, the most inhabited city in all of Ref and the only city that is a tavern. The post-explosion pub's patrons shuffled about the rubble, rebuilding the only place they called home, or rather the only place they were allowed to use the bathroom. They would either drink or work to get the bar back to drinking condition after one of the many mishaps it seemed to be prone to.

There was still much work to be done, much debris to be removed, and much maddened, cannibalistic children to be cleared out, but new-comers and never-leavers alike bore the bits and bites all the same. Few chairs now populated the bar, and in one stool sat the rarest of sites in Refdom -- a woman!

Hey! These aren't my meds! ... Heyyy, these aren't my meds. Gotta go! At that, the Nary Wary Gary zipped into the distance with a repeating Whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop as he went.

"Strange little man," the lone woman buttered, which is sort of like muttering, but creamier, more fattening, and a typo. "It's time to show these guys how to rumble... o.... rama." Her eyes darted about shiftily as she took a nonchalant sip from a mug she only thought she had. "Mmmm, non-existent."

"How can you drink from a mug that doesn't exist?" questioned a nearby youth, holding a charred but apparently delicious leg.

"Because neither do I!" Again, an imaginary figure vanished into nothingness.

"Awww," moaned a pathetic bar fly, "that was cruel. I thought I finally had a date for the prom," he sniffed. Luckily, it didn't matter as he didn't exist, either.

"What's going on here?" generally posed the child with a mouth full of, well, child. The lighting dimmed, save for a far end of the bar's stretch. All attentions were drawn to a hunch over figure, tending a never ending drinking vessel. As the faintest glimmer caught his raising eyes, he was immediately recognized.

A hush swept over the whole city. Seats and drinks were abandoned as a cautious crowd developed around him. Hands were wrung. Women swooned. Children were still eating remains of fallen friends, but that was not due to this return of a veteran. It was impossible to mistake that stature, that hat. One of the original Rumblers graced the bar with his appearance for another round of the Rama.

"Wait," interrupted the ghost of one of the massacred kids, "didn't you already leave?" To this, the vagrant raised a webbed finger and turned to reply.

"..." unsaid the king of the frogs with his wide mouth wide open. A simultaneous groan of discontent was let out as the gathered masses dissipated. "Hey, how'd I get back here?" He looked down to sixteen fluid ounces of explanation. "Oh yeah."

"This don't make a lick of sense!" added the ghost, who was promptly cannibalized by another ghost.

"Say, mister," the second ghost addressed, "weren't you in the lead until you magically came back here."

"Well, I was just ahea-" began the frog. "I mean, everyone else was behin-" he tried to continue. "... aw, sh-"

"Poopy!" the enormous Thesaurus boomed.

"Don't worry, guys," assured 'Leo, who stepped forward to oppose the beast. "I've got a whole lot of books here, and knowledge is power."

"Yay!" cheered 'Snaff. "Go, nerd, go!" His joy was lessened when the student simply began waling on it with his heavy book bag using all of his strength which, mind you, wasn't much. At a distance, the group was being observed by the loathsome fashion mage, who now mysteriously wore a chinchilla fur coat under his tyedye flannel.

"Sweet-digs," he rambled, peering safely from behind a snow bush. "With those cats distracted, there will be no one to rain on my parade."

"Yeah, and we all know how much your kind loves parades," heckled his egg friend from deep within his garb.

"Quiet, you," snapped Kodiro. "You only talk in my mind. And if I wasn't wearin' my Pants of Many Pockets and Extra Dimensions, I'd find you, cook you, and then not eat you just to show ya who's the guy cooking his li'l egg friend and not eating him."

Back on the ground, the vagrant bounced along the horizon to reclaim his lead. One especially squishy portion of ground turned out to be Gariland.

"Sorry, bloke. I didn't see you there," apologized the blue one, never breaking pace, "and didn't care."

"That's okay," dully stated the squashed one, who still laid fallen on the ground. "Life is pain."

"Gee, what the Hel is wrong with you?" screamed back the frog, carrying on the conversation from a growing distance.

"Aw, nothing... except everything!" contradicted Gariland. "I'm just filling in the brooding time required by any character dressed in black. I hate puppies!"

"Strange for a guy who periodically falls for no reason," erupted the vagrant in a loud voice from the base of the Cotton Mountain where now Gariland sat. "Ah!" yelped the frog. "How did you get here?"

"I dunno," shrugged off the dark one, fixing a stare at no point in particular on the ground. "Maybe I teleported. Compensate this, Heisenberg!" Before bounding up the plush mountainside, the Rex dead-set a harsh look onto Gariland until he inexplicably fell into the ground.

"Glad to see you're back to being, well, not what you just were," spoke the vagrant, crouching down for a high jump.

"Yeah, well, not everything is the same!" declared Gariland. "I'm going with a new shtick. From now on, I'm going to spontaneously catch fire, and then extinguish by wetting myself!"

"Have luck with that," faded away the frog as he disappeared into the softly lofty heights.

"I will," the one in black said to the no one remaining with him. "Yeah, I'm awesome."

"What happened to my fab-tastic make-over?" Kodiro said only to himself. "Lousy Goths! Don't they know fashion when they see it?" he stated while adjusting his rattlesnake belt... living rattlesnake belt. "Oh yeah! Lapses in consciousness mean you're cool!" At this, the guady wizard stumbled his way past the others and the Thesaurus.

The Rex Ranarum came crashing down from above into a land that could be nothing if not soft.

"Have you seen Gariland?" quickly asked the lunatic. "He has twenty bucks that he owes me... that I have to steal."

Before the frog could respond, "Ouch! It burns!" was heard in the background.

"Never mind that," he said, suddenly trying to take a lead again. "We're goin' for the long haul against this thing. The Thesaurus isn't going to be one of those enemies that can be defeated with a slight gust." Just then, a slight gust -- unusual for their high altitudes -- breezed by the mountain. "See? That didn't defeat it," he pointed out as the Pepsi One billboard, riding the weak winds, plummeted down, crushing the horrible monster.

"Yay!" cheered Syniarian. "Bimblesnaff is dead!"

"Hey," whined the goblin, peering from beneath the demolished sign. His beady eyes widened suddenly to something behind the others. "Watch out! It's a cavema-"

"Troglodyte!" wailed the dinosaur. A short, bald but otherwise hairy man with a tiny mustache wearing cotton boxers and t-shirt lept up behind the group, grasping a spear with a shaft made of cotton and a point -- made of cotton!

"Me Roget," he grunted, thudding his chest. "Me not caveman. Me unemployed and stupi-"

"Incompenent!" his pet finished.

"Oh, I get it," Hadoleo enlightened, adjusting his glasses. "You weren't going to hurt us at all."

"No, me am," Roget corrected. "'Cause me stupid."

"Hey," noticed the blue clad vagrant. "Isn't that the loser Kodir-"

"Closet-case!" roared Roget's pet.

"Say what?" unsmoothly retorted the fashionable whiz, who was poorly hiding himself behind his own outstretched coat. "Ooo, you just jealous of my fly, new, technicolor coat. No mo' pink shirt for me! That thing was so five minutes ago that it was two minutes ago! Can't do nuthin' 'bout it when I look this good!" Bimblesnaff suddenly appeared before the mage to smear his garment with goat's blood. "Aw sig-snap!"

"Where did you get a goat from?"

"Backpack," Bimblesnaff answered, gesturing a thumb back to 'Leo.

"I was saving that for later!" complained the young one. "My cult leader is going to kill me," he huffed, "instead."

"Ah, shuddup, ya p-"

"Kitty." echoed the giant.

Hadoleo was shocked. "Rex Ra-"

"Virgin!" Everyone placed a raised brow on the blue clad vagrant.

"... what? I'm a frog. Frogs die after they mate."

"No they don't," even Bimblesnaff knew.

"Shhhhhhhhut up," he whispered behind a raised flipper.

"Keep your acts in line, guys," the student went on. "You don't want to blow our teenage rating."

Rating? We don't have a rating.

"We don't?" joyously responded the frog to the NWG's announcement. "Then let's break out the moderately-priced beer and cheap prostit-"

"Bimblesnaff!" A stare even more confused than before went onto the lunatic.

"Well, obviously he's lying."

Amid all the distraction and inaction, Kodiro had powered his through many venomous bites and all the way up the jagged peak.

"Fools," he chuckled. "That bunch o' fools can't stop me now. I'm at the top! All the way!" He looked around the endless scape that surrounded him, filled with a sense of awe and why he even wanted to get to the top in the first place. "Wait, I wanted to go past the mountain, didn't I?

If you were a pigeon sitting at the other side of cotton mountain, you’d probably notice one of two things: well actually the very first thing you’d realize is that there are no pigeons in Ref. However, if nonexistence doesn’t bother you too greatly, you could either notice that the ninjas hiding in cotton boulders had indeed not paid their tab and there was a dull “thumping” noise coming from the innards of the mountain. The strange sound did not grow in volume, but ended rather abruptly with a resounding thud and a “Hey, there’s a really big boat in here!”

From atop the summit, the wizard of wear was concocting a giant parachute from the very essence of the mountain. With the wind blowing in his face, Kodiro took a step back and then took of in a series of step-ball-change leaps and careened into the open air! Of course the wind was blowing against him and he fell backwards with his parachute, which much resembled huge pair bikini briefs, opened fully carrying him in the direction he had climbed. Also, as everyone knows, cotton is very breathable. Thus, clasping futilely to his whitie tighties, he flew towards the earth like a man attempting to use his underwear as a flying mechanism.

With the trio surrounded and outnumbered three to two, there was little action to take. No one wanted a papercut from the ludicrously sized reference book and Roget smelled atrociously of sweat and obsession.

Then a cry echoed of the mountain: “WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE PUT OUT MY FIRE!!!” Everyone whirled around looking for Kodiro, but he had fallen into the hole the giant vessel had made.

THUD! “Hey, there’s a knight down here!”

Charging blindly, on fire with swords in the air, twas not the fashion mage, not a flaming child, but Gariland, combusting and surrounded in a cloud of sharp and not so sharp objects. “What is wrong with you people! I’m-




“Yes and-”

“Poorly Equipped!”

“Excuse me?”

Hadoleo chirped in “I think, he means your atrociou-”


“-outfit.” The shadow goth looked down at his burning clothes and considered it a slight improvement, but no one really felt sorry for him, save Roget, who offered the shirt off his back, as well as his underwear, causing his pet to runaway.

“Saurus, bad!” Roget was hot in pursuit frolicking in the nude with his spear in hand as he disappeared into a cloud of cotton.

From out of the mountain emerged the post-Knight of Funk being pestered by the Magician of Materials. “I swear, at least let me do something about your eyebrows, they need to be plucked so badly, and your armor needs a shine! Don’t you want to look special when you reach the-”

Kodiro walked backwards into the torrents of caramel, which slowly sucked him away, but not before Vinny used him as a stepping stone to the other side of several streams.

“Not mountains, nor makeovers, malicious streams of sweet can stop me from claiming the Swedish Dog of Doom to rule over the kingdoms!”

Thus the knight continued his quest, as the fashion mage puts on his RacySpeedo to brave the currents. Meanwhile, the other adventurers are make their way around their mountain. Roget finally tracks his pet to the tavern where he frightens the-

“Prepubescent immolating homo-saipens!”

Yes. While Gariland wears your master’s clothes, since he…soiled his others...

“Roget shall quest new clothes!”

Oh boy.

And thus Roget began his journey for new cloths, which no one at all cared for.

"Hey, wasn't there someone else?" questioned the frog man in blue as he bolted against the green freak in purple for the lead.

"Nope," disagreed Bimblesnaff over the painful screams of Gariland, who was not far behind, "I'm fairly certain it's just us two." It was long since forgotten, or gladly overlooked, that a youth had plummeted into the dark depths of the vile and fluffy mountain. It was the start of...

Hadoleo's Magical Adventure! Press start now.

"Wow, this boat seems pretty heavy," the student noted, analyzing the object in questioned. In a spontaneous burst of inquisitiveness and cowardice, he had slipped down the hole when things started to look dangerous. "How in the world did that Ranarum guy life it? It has to weigh a ton!"

"At least," croaked a voice from beneath the vessel.

"Holy sin!" chirped the lad. "Some is stuck under this monstrosity! Don't worry, I shall free you."

"No need, kind sir," the individual explained as the boat stirred and was lifted off by an unseen force.

"No one ever gives me any credit," the force mooped before leaving unthanked as per norm.

"Greetings, young, kind sir," the short and odd little person greeted while twirling his mustache. "I am called Bwittyl Wittot, the Ol' Gent of the these here Mounts, and I need your help."

"Wow, how did you lift that boat?" backtracked a still amazed 'Leo.

"Oh, I have unlimited powers, you see," the short geezer explained with a rub of its rotund belly.

"Wait, then why," asked the boy, "do you need some unexperienced, confused, and sure-shot failure kid to help you?"

"Uh," the odd person thought quickly, "I like to fail. Now then, my Cotton Kingdom of Nibijibi in under great peril. Everyone is being squashed by large boats from above, and they are helpless to free themselves."

"Wait, can't you life boats with your limitless power?"

"Yes, but I fail to see how it relates to this situation," stated Bwittyl. "Now then, for you to complete your quest, which you have no choice but to do for the fate of the world as you shall eventually find out, I shall give you this crappy weapon which couldn't cut warm butter." Handing over a stick, Hadoleo discovered it was a stick, plain and simple. "It's a stick," redundantly told the short fellow. "I happen to have this weapon of unbelievable power, but I don't really feel like handing it over to you yet."

"Um... thanks?" Further instructions were never received by the lad, sadly and gladly, as he was swiftly carried off on the big boot of D, who was charging through, like a used wad of gum.

"Hey, wait, come back here," Wittot demanded. "He is destined to save the world since he's the first young man I've seen ever since I decided it was in peril!" Vin never thought of turning around or even slow his pace, especially when Kodiro came after him with a pair of tweezers.

"I told you," shouted the mage of makeovers, "it isn't for your eyebrows!" The knight's pace only hastened.

"Ah, great, now what are we going to do?" whined the short man.

Luckily, all of his problems were about to go up in smoke. Unluckily, all of his world was, too. Gariland, by sheer accident, used his flaming body to eliminate the obstacle of the Cotton Mountain by sharing his flame with it. Noticing the new short cut, the Lunatic and King changed their paths, darting across the field of ash against one another. Rex was able to take the lead, however, as he was more properly hydrated with the Manatea in his manatee. Reaching the Caramel rapids First, he was the first to trip over the Knight's deposit: Hadoleo. The viscous nature of the location had pulled the young man off of the questionably young man's footwear. This set back allowed Bogg to get ahead of the amphibian, although he still did take a pause to kick the youth while down and on his way.

"So that's what happened," Bimblesnaff agree, "and that is something I would do." Swinging a claw hard in his step, he booted 'Leo across the face before continuing on with his trek. "So long, suckahs."

In his revelry and mocking, however, he could not see where he tread and tripped over another one of Vin's deposits.

"Aw, dude, seriously. Not right, man. It's just not right.

And thus the Knight left the competitors in the caramel as he charged on into the distance.

“On I go, to the Cherry Chicken Conjourne to take the command of the Farms of Chuck!” the giant’s booming voice carried over back to the four stuck to their environment.

The Fashion Mage, who had caught up a bit too close to D and hit the heel of his boot, was knocked backwards into the caramel mess, and tripped Bimblesnaff all in one go, took a look at his dirty garments and began to smile.

“Ah, the enlightenment!” Bimblesnaff’s companion cried out in realization. “The new style of chocolate and caramel! Why haven’t I found this before?!” The Makeover Mage would’ve stood in triumph to celebrate his finding, but the gooeyness of the situation forced him to settle with his caramel angel.

“Aw man, what is that?” the lunatic demanded upon seeing Kodiro’s work of art. “That is no way to draw!” Disgusted with the mage’s lack of artistic ability, the freak destroyed the angel image and began to give a quick art lesson, drawing crooked stick figures in the caramel as examples of the “correct” way to draw.

“Hey, draw us straight!” the sticks screamed. “Little kids never give us any respect!”

“Nor do they respect sacred images,” the defaced angel managed to reply without a visible mouth.

“Shaddup!” Bimblesnaff retorted by ruining the ruined drawings even more.

Rex Ranarum was simply trying to free himself from the caramel prison, and Hadoleo was simply busy trying to free his right hand to hold to his newly bruised face, when burning cries alerted all to the fact that Gariland was approaching. The flaming man ran past the lot of them, and although none could see him directly due to their sticky positions, all could feel the heat he exuded.

“Wait, heat and caramel?” the student murmured to himself, and began to realize, “Uh-oh.”

The amphibious one would have queried Hadoleo’s muttering, but decided against it when the river of the sugary substance began flowing faster due to the caramel melting more from the excess heat. The foursome began to be swept away, but the drawings faced a worse fate. They melted away.

“I do say, this is a revolutionary fashion!” Kodiro exclaimed upon examining his new clothing style of chocolate and caramel, which he managed to fashion up with the help of his now-caramel-covered wand of styling. “I must see how this looks on others.”

The goblin had righted himself and was attempting to get out of the caramel torrent and away from Kodiro when he spotted him.

“Hey, you were the one who desperately needed a makeover!” the mage yelled.

“Didn’t ya listen to me last time? Your style ideas suck!” Bimblesnaff shouted back as he swam away from the Fashion Mage. Luckily for the freak, Kodiro wasn’t as adept at swimming through caramel as he was at identifying and picking excellent clothing fashions, which was already rather bad to begin with.

“Something doesn’t make much sense here.” Hadoleo went on. “At normal room temperature, caramel is supposed to solidify, if I recall correctly…”

The frog man meanwhile was swimming away from the student deep in thought, greatly helped by his amphibious abilities but also greatly hindered by the sticky substance he had to swim through.

“…So if the caramel we were stuck in was already in a somewhat gooey state, then it must have already been heated above normal temperature. Which means…that’s it!” the student suddenly shouted. “That flaming guy wasn’t responsible for this heinous crime!”

“Yes he was.” Rex shouted back. “What outdated deductive skills are you using?”

“I’m so glad I thoroughly read through The Secrets to Detectives’ Deductiveness and Reasoningness!” the student went on, ignoring the question. As an afterthought, Hadoleo attempted to open his backpack only to find that the zippers were stuck together by caramel. “Aw, man, those guys sold me off with this ‘All-Purpose Backpack’!”

By that time, though, the student was speaking to himself, since the King had already gotten himself out of the caramel.

Of course, none of these events concerned the Knight of the single letter, who continued ever vigorously in his pursuit of…the…

“I shall succeed! I will obtain the Blue Bird of Bane!” D announced with the Nary Wary Gary running beside him.

Right. Thanks. And so he leads well ahead of the others.

"Hey, what's shakin'?" asked the goblin as he passed Hadoleo.

"Oh, it's just terrible!" he began. "The rapids! They are caused by... are you walking?" The freak looked to his feet, firmly planted on the flowing goop.

"Pfft, loser," scoffed the Ghobling.

"But you don't understand!" cried out the student, reaching toward the escaping monster from waste deep in sweets. "The melted caramel -- it is caused by... the sun." Puzzled enough to halt his trek, Bimblesnaff stopped, looked up, looked back, looked up again, looked into the future, used X-ray vision to see the future's skivvies, and then looked back to the student one more time with a very confused expression.

"What?" finally spurted out the freak.

"No, not that sun! It's the... Second Sun!"

And a massive explosion ripped through the syrupy river as we turn else where. Hey, Vinny, whatcha up to?

"Leave me alone, talking shoulder," an obviously confused D-Knight spoke to own body parts. "Can't you see that we are in a competition? And I shall defeat you!"

"Hey D," greeted Rex as he caught up. "Is your shoulder givin' ya guff again?"

"No, it forgot my birthday," the grizzled knight sniffed, "and it knew I needed a brand new guff. My old one has a hole in it."

Hey, did you hear that, guys? I think a tidal wave is coming.

"Hey, King, did you hear that?" asked D, ignoring the Nary Wary Gary once more.

"I think so," replied Of The Frogs. "It could only be one thing that I can think of..." That usually consisted of cotton candy and cartoons.

Idiocy aside, it was quite fitting for the rapids made of caramel -- the swiftest liquid in the world -- that the Caramel Rapids are home to the swiftest breed in the world -- the reverse sloth! The reverse sloth is everything the sloth isn't, and the sloth is not very many things. In fact, it is absolutely nothing other than a sloth. Strangely enough, when all non-sloth things are combined together, they produce something that surprisingly resembles a regular sloth, only...

"Egads! It's wearing a funny hat!"

"Um, that isn't a reverse sloth," the frog pointed out. "That's a caramel tidal wave."

"Yeah... but it's still wearing a funny hat." And so the fez-wearing tidal wave bore down on the two. As their heads poked back above the sugary surge, the source of the rush -- the dastardly Second Sun -- loomed over the fallen ones with 'Leo at weapon-point of his cannibalistic, reverse sloth army.

Hey, what happened to 'Snaff?... not that I care.

"Wow, you guys aren't evil at all," the evil goblin told his more-so captors. In the Far Away Fortress of the Second Sun, the reverse sloths watched over their newly filled prison cell with wide eyes and salivating mouths. "I mean, look at all this fattening food you are fattening me with!"

"Yesss," hissed one of them, "it isss only courtessssy sssince we are having you for dinner."

"Wow, I get to eat two dinners?" asked the hapless Ghobling. "What's for dessert?"

"I am thinking.... goblin cake!" it burst out laughing, soon joined by the others in his entourage as well as -- strangely but expectedly enough -- Bimblesnaff.

The vile Second Sun looked over its confusing pair of shades to the diminutively sized group. They were poised to be destroyed, for seemingly no good reason, and only one thing could save them...

"Wow! God just came out of that machine!" exclaimed a pointing frog, "and he's ice cream!"

"That's just a soft serve machine," groaned 'Leo, wishing just a little that the reverse sloths would kill him.

"Mmm, my God is a vengeful and delicious God... but mostly vengeful," and thus the author was immediately smitten for likening Him to frozen dairy.

"I have no idea what is going on right now," admitted the very perplexed Second Sun for the entire reading audience. Hadoleo wasted no time; amid the newer, higher level of confusion, the youth revealed his ultimate weapon -- the All-Purpose Cotton Swab! He flung the small double-sided utensil up and slowly made his getaway through the thick environment.

The King of the Frogs soon found himself pinned between the viscous rapids and weight of the swab. Of course, a very small girl would have the strength and sense to find her way from out a cotton swab, which he wasn't... well, there was that one time...

"I feel pretty!" pranced around the blue clad vagrant, uncharacteristically not clad in his trademark blue™.

"Gah! This isn't a flashback," gagged the sun, reeling back in horror. "Where did he get that dress?"

"I think he... grew it," told Vin, "from his skin."

Meanwhile, a whole eight feet away, Hadoleo had managed to escape the conflict. Wielding his all-purpose swab once more, he broke down the walls of Far Away Fortress... yes, I said "eight feet away."

"Don't worry, 'Snaff! I'm here to save you!" the student said at the rubbled wall. "Wait... why?" With an uncaring shrug, he turned back, leaving the Goblin in his cell.

"Well, 'bout time!" exclaimed Gobbo. "I cou'n't stand another second in this hellhole!" So he finished his wine and rack of lobster and fled out hole. A reverse sloth guard came upon the now vacant prison, brandishing a wickedly large butcher knife, a devious grin, and -- of course -- a funny hat. His demeanor vanished and his beanie's propeller stopped spinning when he saw that the dinner guest was no more.

"He just... left?" whined the not-sloth. "But I slaved so long in the kitchen in preparation for him." And so in utter shock, the unsloth allowed the knife to slip to the floor, as it did to the cake it also carried, decorated to resemble Bimblesnaff's head.

Downstream, Gariland had problems of his own. The depressed Goth was lying in a pool of molten caramel on the banks of the river. His worst fear had been realised, he had been completely forgotten.

"But you remembered me. Right?" asked Gariland hopefully.

Of course I did. It's certainly not like I was just passing through on the way to the nearest bathroom.

Choosing to ignore the obvious sarcasm of the narrator's last comment, the Goth set off in the direction of the Gingerbread swamp with new resolve. Humming a death metal tune even more painful than Kodiro's fashion tips the man in black hit the lead.

A whole three feet away from Far Away Fortress, the rest of the competitors were having an argument about which way to go next. Suddenly, the Lunatic came up with a devious plan.

"I did? Oh, that plan," muttered the goblin who, after waiting for Hadoleo to explain which way is up to the majority of the contestants, started giving a descriptive, logical and incredibly false set of directions.

"So, on the other side of the caramel rapids."

"Past the remains of the Cotton Candy Mountain."

"Along the path to the fiery ruins of The Tavern."

"We'll find the path to the Gingerbread swamp."

"Exactly," replied Bimblesnaff. "And because I'm such a great guy I'll even guard the rear."

"Ew, 'guard the rear'? Yeah, you would do that, sicko. 'Cuz you're sick... You sicko."

"But," complained Rex, "you were the one who said that! How could you possibly turn that around against me?" His question fell upon an upside-down bucket with a pebble set on its bottom, which was sitting in for the maniac. "Oh, the silent treatment, ey?" He wiped his webbed fingers over this face while producing comical noises. "I'll show you, wise guy!" Leaping upon the bucket, the frogman quickly became subdued by it. "Ah! Someone, help!" Scratching the back of his head, 'Leo turned to the Knight of D.

"What are we even doing here?" queried the student. "Hello, Vin? Answer me!" He waved his hands in front of the sack of flour that had a face drawn on it, sideways. "Oh, so a wise guy, ey?" He leapt upon the bag...

Knowing the way to the sought land, the one with darkness sped across the path silently, leaving no prints from his graceful steps. However, amidst this steps, he left plenty of face prints with ashen outlines and yellow puddles.

"At this rate," he proclaimed to himself, and, assumable, Gary, while lifting himself from the earth, etching the number 253, "I'll be dining on Lengendairy by next year! Much sooner than I would have ever thought," he admitted while rubbing his hands together greedily before remembering that they were being used to lift himself up and thus promptly returned him to the road.

Hot on his tail plowed forth the giant, Vincent. Fueled with rage, he sought the Wooden Pistol of Glowing to smite the one who murdered his beloved own self back in his childhood. Additionally, I warned him not to drink the water in that stream. It was not clear. Not clear!

"Outta the way, stick man," boomed the grizzled warrior. "There's a cat that needs to have its hair trimmed, and only the Blessed Clippers of Glory can shear its adamantium shafts!"

Seriously, do you listen to yourself?

"Of course not!" loudly denied the hulking traveler. "Don't you think I would have stopped speaking long ago if I did?"

Fair enough, accepted the Nary Wary Gary with a shrug. Approaching a fork in the road, the locomotive charge was brought to an abrupt halt, peeling up the earth itself beneath his feet with the momentum of his stop. Cautiously, he investigated the two courses. The trackless paths made it difficult to discern which way was taken by the Rumbler in the lead as anyone could have left those ash surrounded pee holes, unlike footprints. Pausing from his narration, Gary coughed Moron before continuing. On the left, dark shadows were cast out long by bare trees with sickly branches, oozing ungodly fluids. The other path was lined with flowers and frolicking beavers. The right choice was obviously the right choice. ... by which I mean the side... for either of those 'rights', I guess.

"Really?" burst out D. "Well, my gut was telling me to take the road lined with human skulls, but, hell. You know best, mop guy."

I am not a mop! complained Gary as Vince used the power's upturned body to soak up the remains Gariland left behind. As the two passed around the bend, two other figures emerged from the sinister side, the man draped in a grey coat and the finned canine.

"Wow, I can't believe the Land of Utter Happy and Ice Cream was down that scary path," squeaked the blue dog.

"It makes sense since they double as a Halloween store in the fall," the man pointed out, "what, with all their hordes of candy and such." Swallowing a mouthful of roasted duck, he spoke up: "So, um... can we have sex?"

"NO!" retched the horrified beast, forcing itself to keep from vomiting, a failed task.

"Oh, what? Is it because I'm human and you aren't?" blew off the odd man. "That should be a problem for me, not you."

"No, the reason isn't bestiality, you ugly man," she corrected. "It's because I'm a lesbian!" From no where, most likely the Land of Utter Happy, stepped forth a beautiful woman who promptly started to make out with tongue with the finned quadruped.

"I... don't even know if I'm messed up enough to enjoy this," struggled the coated man to say, not believing it himself. Without warning, the bodies of the two enthralled females burst open to reveal entwining tentacles. "Well, I know I'm not," he restated, producing a digital camcorder, "but some sick bastard out there is.

As the brave travelers returned to the tavern after falling into the dastardly plot of the Ghobling, who is now ransacking the large boat-

“A golden chandlier! Even better! Peanut Butter!”

There is a shocking discovery that the pub has been rebuilt.

“Ow, it stings!” complained Hadeleo.

“Suck it up and take it like a man!” The king of frogs growled as he wiped tears from his eyes.

“But who would do such a thing?” Questioned Kodiro “I mean who would be so bold to put up such an atrocious structure back to its original state?”

A shadow stepped off the roof, luckly, it was tethered. Stylish Safety glasses shined on his slightly unshaven face, illuminated from the light above the door, the overall clad man tipped his safety hat and spoke:

“Almost landed on you, that would have thrown a wrench into your day! The name’s Jack Phillips, the Handyman.”

“So you were commissioned to take part in the restoration of this historical icon of Ref to let the legend of Rumblo be remembered?” Hadeleo queried.

Removing and official looking document from his back pocket, the dangling man quoteth: “Dear Sir, Madame, or proper moniker: Our town, The Tavern, is currently tavernless. As this is the main source of revenue for the town, we have no money to pay you, but not only will you be known as the rebuilder of the historical landmark for the start of the Rumblo, but you’ll get half of the revenue from the gift shop.”

“You mean I could have just stolen this can-a-teen from there?” Voiced the Pharaoh of Frogs.

While NWG started shaking his head, Jack released himself from his tether, dropping to a heroic pose.“Evil never measures up to good.”

“Actually the original structure never had a gift shop, but I’m quite curious what would be for sale at the newly installed one…” the student commentated.

“Of course I installed one, that’s what that counter is there for!” Jack congratulated himself.

The only voice came not from the stupefied group but from closely behind them. “Fools! You fell into my trap! You came all the way back here in the opposite direction!”

“Seems like you guys are all screwed.” Handyman threw in.

“Yet why did you come back here, no wait, it was to rub it in our faces wasn’t it.” Sighed Hadeleo. As the cackling fiend ran off, slathering peanut butter, or at least what was thought to be peanut butter, all over his own face. “Well we might as well try to catch-”

“HOLD IT!” The tyrant of toads croaked. A funeral was held briefly. “As I was saying,” he said as he rose from his lack-of-grave, “He fooled us once, we all know that as a fact, we don’t want to be fooled again. Thus we keep going this direction, since surely, he is trying to trick us again. Thus we continue on this path.”

Not much more happened for a brief while, aside for a sentient pile of moldy jello making its way past the building.

“That idea is all crack and no spackle!” Voiced Phillips.

Took you that long to think up that one?


MEANWHILE along the dextral path, the knight of funk decreed that he would obtain the Wellwishing Wood to free the beavers from their fears, which at the current time was the odd Gariland, still in the lead..

“I actually hope the black furred smelly is gone by the time the shiny green one returns.” Presumably said one beaver.

“I kinda hope they both leave.” Conveyed another through nonverbal means.

"Will you be my friend?" asked the "The Goth." At that, the beavers vanished from non-existence, quite fortunately for them, too, as their pelts would have caught ablaze. "Aww, why do all my friends always kill themselves to get away from me?"

Because killing you would be a favor.

Gariland stood a moment in the booming echo of the narrator. After some thought, he lowered his dark head in shame. "Ouch, the truth." And through no fault of clumsiness, Gariland plummeted face-first into the spongy, delicious ground of the swamp, driving the truth that protruded from a bloody hole in his chest even further in.

"Don't worry, babies!" cried the rushing, unjolly green giant. "The Dangerous Doughnut-Devourin' Dingoes won't get to you before I do!"

"If they eat doughnuts," the black-clad poser mumbled from his prostrate position, "then why would they harm babies?"

"What? They are turning the babies into doughnuts!" an appalled D-Knight spat out, never breaking stride. "It is even worse than I thought! I'll get that Merry Cherry Ferry from the Deli Dale yet!"

"Wait, what did you say?" asked Gariland, pulling his face out of an impression in the ground marked 255. "Did you finally get the quest right?"

"Perhaps," admitted the old knight, "but I only said that on accident. What I actually meant to say is that I am going to kill you."

"Kill me?" complained the burning one, so filled with despair at this point that he could have killed himself. "What reason do you have to kill me?" questioned he. "... Well, which one are you citing? It is probably some made-up reason like protecting penguin-shaped pillows from the hunters that want them for their golden filling."

"Don't be ridiculous," D said, amazingly. "They are filled with silver, not gold," thoughtlessly explained the knight, all the while plowing further and further into the distance. "Besides, I have to kill you because... you stole my face."

"Ellipsis," Gariland replied quite confused. "Your... face?"

"Yeah, I haven't seen it for a while," the green one said louder and louder, "and you are the only person that's around, so you must have it."

"Blutty 'el," muttered Gariland from beneath his palm, smacked against his face. "Good thing the fool is so far away from me... now?" He peered behind himself to find the source of a looming and grizzles shadow. The D-Knight trained upon the slender Goth at full force. "Stupid teleportation! Damn you, vengeful spirit of Heisenberg!"

"The more precisely the position is determined, the less precisely the momentum is known, bee-yotch!" mocked the disembodied physicist, who had apparently gained the ability to violate his own scientific principle in the afterlife.

Meanwhile, at the tavern of Tavern, there is a huge celebration without a sad face in the crowd. It obviously means one of two things: opiate happy hour or a funeral.

"Does anyone want to say a few words?" 'Leo solemnly stated, wiping away a tear with his All-Purpose Swab.

"Vest," the Ghobling said after a disappointing length of time spent in thought.

".... That... that was only one word."

"Smaire," Kodiro said next.

"Okay, that wasn't even one word," the student informed, cleaning his glasses in frustration, or perhaps to wipe off the stupidity. "You know what? I don't even care. I mean, it isn't like Jack is actually dead or anything."

"Looks like the final nail in my coffin," a muffled voice cried from the casket, "was being hammered on the head by a two-by-four."

"Really? Who hit you?"

"Hacksaw!" responded the handyman.


"Screw this noise," the Rex Ranarum finally interrupted. "Where are we supposed to be going again?"

Well, since you backtracked, you must re-brave the Cotton Mountain (that is sometimes candy), swim the Caramel Rapids, pass the Gingerbread Swamp, wander through the Poodle-Padded Highway--

"Wait wait wait," sputtered out Hadoleo, who was browsing through a local map from his backpack. "The Gingerbread Swamp?"


"The Poodle-Padded Highway?"


"Aren't both of those next to the Tavern?" he realized upon analyzing the area.

... Yes. Your point?

"Then why did we have to go all that way?" Hadoleo queried. "All of our journey so far was just a loop. C'mon, gang, to the Poodle Padde-"

Not so fast! I didn't say you could go there. You have to go through the Swamp and the Rapids and the Mountain that is sometimes candy.

"But... why?"

Because I said so! Isn't that enough for your people? So then, the whole party set out for the Cotton Mountain once more... well, first, they stood around, giving the Nary Gary Wary some evil looks, pounding their fists for a while... brandishing some whirring chainsaws. But they are certainly going to continue onward to the jagged cotton peaks after this. The goblin is carrying a cactus for some reason. The handsome narrator asks what purpose the plant could serve, and then doubts that it will fit in there.

'Tis an awful scene as they swarm the non-broom-like NGW, but the mobbing doesn't phase our brave narrator. He meant to bleed like that, and he was never so fond of that arm anyway. Using a cunning possum tactic, he allowed the rumblers to carry his seemingly broken and bent body away into the... what? Oh no, not the casket!

"Heya, buddy," greeted NGW's new roommate. "Looks like you could use a hand... -yman"

Oy, why couldn't they have taken my head instead of my hand? I can't even strangle myself now. I am so jealous of that whiny Goth right now...

"Give... me... back... my... smaire!" the hulking D-Goliath demanded between pulverizing punches to the puny ninja-esque's head.

"That's not even a word!"

“So now I guess we’ve gotta go,” Hadoleo announced. “…Finally,” he added afterwards.

“Why aren’t we moving?” Kodiro questioned.

“I think it’s because we’re stuck in peanut butter,” the King of Frogs concluded.

“Yeech! Who would want peanut butter to cover the floor with?” the Ghobling asked.

“You…you were wiping it on your face some time ago, right?” Kodiro queried.

“That was a different kind of peanut butter. There are three brands of them, ya know?” Bimblesnaff answered. “Or maybe more. Or less.”

“If we’re done discussing peanut butter,” Hadoleo began, “I do not think we are stuck because of it. Peanut butter isn’t viscous enough to entrap things in it…living things, at least. Scientific studies have proven that.”

“So we need to use science to get out and moving!” Rex Ranarum exclaimed.

“No! Well…yes, actually, if we just apply physics and move our legs out. Which we can’t do, for some reason.”

“I know why,” piped up the fiend. “We’re talkin’ and not movin’ at the same time.”

At this response the student smacked his face, but whether it was out of frustration because of his peers or his inability to find the answer to their current predicament is unknown, unfortunately.

“Eh? Aren’t you in a casket?” the blue clad vagrant questioned.

Me? Of course not! As the overseer of the Rumbl-o-Rama, I must narrate the course of events that occur.

“So that’s it,” the student said. “We needed a narrator to move us along.”

“But how’d you fit yourself back together?” the Ghobling asked. “How’d you get ‘ere, anyways?”

What? The narrator required some time to recall recently passed events. Oh, you did all those stuff to Nary Gary Wary. I am Nary Wary Gary. Nary Gary Wary is just a side of me who is my brother’s father’s grandfather’s nephew’s son’s nephew.

“…So, he’s your alter ego?” Hadoleo helplessly guessed after attempting to draw out a diagram of NWG’s family history on the peanut butter and instead getting his pencil stuck in it.

Uh, yeah. But that’s not important. What’s important is that you all will now traverse the Cotton Mountain that is occasionally candy, the Caramel Rapids, and through the Gingerbread Swamp to reach the Poodle-Padded Highway.

The student groaned as he was the only one of the group considering the extra physical work involved.

Oh, one more thing. I wouldn’t like to leave my…friend behind. Could you carry this for me?

Turning back to the tavern, Hadoleo was horror-struck upon seeing a casket falling down upon him. Bracing himself for the inevitable symbol of death, the student jumped to life upon realizing the casket only weighed as much as a backpack…a backpack filled with 2,000-page textbooks and heavy laptops that hadn’t even been heard of in the land of Ref.

“Okay…where’s Rex?” the burdened student questioned NWG, in the hopes of shifting “some” of the weight to the companion.

He’s already climbing the Mountain.

Frustrated in his efforts, Hadoleo turned to his remaining companions to find a most shocking sight. Kodiro had an eerie, hypnotized look in his eyes, and he was pointing his wand, strangely dripping with peanut butter, at another figure. The student gazed at the second orange-ish figure for only a moment.

“Aaaaaaah! It’s a peanut butter monster!” Hadoleo panicked and took off in the direction NWG indicated.

“Looks like you’d better bolt!” the voice from inside the casket said, though how the handyman knew about outside events escaped logical understanding.

“What’s with ‘im?” Bimblesnaff asked.

“Uh, I’m sure it’s only a trick on his eyes. I believe I should be going now,” the fashion-mage quickly replied while hiding his wand. As Kodiro rushed to follow the others and get away from the fiend, he dropped another looking glass. Bimblesnaff caught his reflection off of the glass and realized his transformation into…a kind of peanut butter monster, at least judging by his new clothes bestowed on him by Kodiro’s wand.

“Why are you still hitting me?” Gariland asked between the knight’s relentless strikes.

“You have ruined my dreams! My dreams!” D yelled as he continued hitting with renewed vengeance.

You two are fighting?

“Uh…yeah,” was all the black-clad man could respond with between repeated pummeling.

You know, I hate to point out characteristics that people should already know about themselves, but don’t you have swords to defend yourself with?

“I do?” Gariland asked as he was punched again in the head. “Wow, those concussions must be getting to me.”

Now I have a strong desire to add one myself.

"I can't believe we have to go through these places again," whined 'Leo, struggling to catch up with the vagrant. "It seemed to take us forever to get through them the first time, and now all of the interesting obstacles have been either removed or destroyed." His words bounced up the crags to the frog man's ear, striking him profoundly.

"Funny," pondered the ruler of the hopping amphibian, "but wasn't this whole mountain reduced to ash when Gariland ran into it ablaze?"

"No, you fool!" an angry cry shouted from within the blue skinned. "You have doomed all!"

"Spirit of Rumblo?" Rex had forgotten his internal passenger. "What do you mean doomed? And, by such, I do not implore the knowledge of how our fates will be tragically altered but what this word 'doomed' means, despite having already demonstrated that I have full knowledge of such."

"... what?" the Spirit blurted out before remembering to who it was a passenger of. "You have brought light to a great evil, and this means its wrath has been invoked!"

"Oh, no," chirped the frog king, as they mountain crumbled to the cinders it was, "I forgot what wrath meant as well!" Tumbling down the disintegrating ridge, a swirling vortex consumed the area, creating a creamy liquid from the burnt cotton, caramel current, and perplexing peanut butter.

In my eyes, indisposed, in disguise no one knew, hideth the face and lieth a snake, rambled Gary with a finger aimed high. The sun, in disgrace, was boiling heat and summer stench 'neath the blackening heavens. The sky looketh dead, but they called its name through the cream and heard thou scream again... Ranarum managed to break through long enough to speak these words:

"Plot Hole Sun,

  Won't you come,

    And wash away our pain?

Plot Hole Sun,

  Won't you come?

    Won't you come?"

The mysterious second sun lowered even closer to the earth, orbiting above the pool and those who cried out to it, calling to them, "Stuttering, cold and damp, steal the warm wind, tired friend." Its brilliant blaze forced back the milky tide of confusion that was drowning the Rumblers. Reaching into itself, it pulled out a writhing serpent, just as Gary had foretold. In doing this, its true form was revealed, the Plot Hole Sun.

"Times are gone for honest men, and sometimes far too long for snakes," it told, glowering at the wyrm. "In my shoes, a walking sleep, and my youth, I pray to keep, Heaven send Hell away." Swinging the devil around by the tail, the scaly fiend was hurtled far away. It chuckled, "No one will sing like you anymore."

Placing its giant and somehow anatomically possible hand over them, it commanded, "Hang your head, drown your fear, till you all just disappear." This was not a ritualistic motion, however, but merely a distraction, like all good magicians use. With the spectators blinded, the Sun reached around to its back where their was a large, round, red button labeled, ">> Fast Forward: Use only in case of dire suck."

zzzzzzzzwwzzzzzzwwzwzwwwwwwwwzzwwwzzzzzzzzzzwwzzwzzzwwww... click.

"What is this trickery?" cursed the giant D. "Those knaves have already caught up to me in the Gingerbread Swamp?"

"I guess you shouldn't have spent so much time wailing on me," Gariland said from Vincent's fist, which was where his face currently was stuck to.

"That's not all, butch-boy," Kodiro chimed in from a distance, "but the Tweezers of Dehairing are back!" Holding up the dazzling pair, great fear entered the heart of the normally unshakable man, sending him off in a bolt, crushing poodle pavement under his great feet. However, the fashion mage was prepared for such a wise act. Tightening the laces on his brand name running shoes, he sped after the aged, young warrior with the speed only a sweat shop of five year olds could provide.

"Well, thank goodness he finally left me," sighed the green skin, rising over the horizon. "Now I can get rid o' all this tasteless junk," Bimblesnaff praised, tossing off arm floaties, a stove pipe hat, and a fake mustache. None of it was given to him by the wizard of wardrobe, but the lunatic was wearing it to conceal his identity from the styled guru he so loathed. After lighting his disguise on fire, and an effigy of Kodiro, he strolled on through the mire carelessly, almost tripping over the black clad loser.

"He didn't put my face on the right way, did he?" Gariland asked through his backwards placed lips.

"Dammit, am I gonna be stuck wit' ya?" moaned the maniac. "That wun do at all! I mean, ya've already been tortured and beat to death!"

"Ooh," groaned the inside-out faced man, "I wish I didn't suck." Bogg scratch his chin, forming a thought and thereby surpassing his yearly limit.

"I'm together wit' yer plan," the fiend agreed. "Steal the rhythm while ya can." Jumping at the pseudo-Goth, Bimblesnaff clutched the man in bandaged claws and boosted him skyward. Still blacked from the earlier havoc, the Plot Hole Sun swooped by, passing directly through Gariland. As the body spun out of control, the form tightened on its decent, sticking a pinpoint landing on cloth swaddled feet. His short tunic was tossed mildly in the wind while his long, shoulder length hair refused to leave his face. His left arm, entirely covered in black, loosely gripped the handle to his sabre. His other arm, entirely bare, only supported the tattoo of a flame on his biceps.

"Hey," he stated in a cool, collected voice, "I... don't suck now."

"Rock on! Now m' slave ain't a lame wad," greedily chuckled the lunatic.

"Whose slave?" The reformed Rumbler's voice did not raise yet struck with force. "I do not think I heard you well, slime?"

"Nothin' master," yelped the fiend, immediately falling prone. He would have minded it, but the ground was oh, so tasty and full of little people.

"You neglected to acknowledge our world," cried out one of the Gingerbread toad men before it was sucked into the ravenous maw of Bogg.

"We're losing time," Gariland declared, already moving forward onto the Poodle-Padded Highway. "Gather my things and try to keep up." Confused, the vile one looked around.

"What thin's?" he fearfully questioned. "I dun see anythin' layin' around." Turning back only an arm, a finger guided his gaze to a pile of rocks.

"Those," the black clad informed. "Those are my things. Carry them." With an annoyed, yet overly silent, grunt, the maniac obeyed.

Things may hath been well for-

"Hey, funny man," the funnier "man" charged, "what's wit' yer funny talk comin' back? Funny, thought ya dropped it?"

Art you one to speakest?


As I was speaking, things may hath been well for the rest of the Rumblers, but one man was not so pleased by the outcome. Fortunately, no one cared for him.

"What's that? Someone's voice? Could it be," prayed the individual trapped in darkness, "that I am not forgotten and screwed? I am pretty bored in here."

Yes, yes, all wisheth that you were lost to the ages, but one hath more dire plans for the handyman. As the lid was slid open, Jack beheldeth a great gleaming of light, blinding he.

"Who... who is that?" the carpenter begged, shielding his eyes from the light to no effect before forcibly uttering, "paint brush." The brilliance faded revealing a man holding a fingerless gloved hand over his bald, shiny head. As the second sun moved on to change the reflection, he adjusted a pair of shades and chuckled.

"Who am I? I am no one, no one at all," the man in the red jacket answered with a cruel smile. "I'm just glad the very fabric of continuity was altered by forces above."

"Forces above?" blurted the tool master. Kno Wuhn pointed a finger skyward, indicating the once thought second sun.

"Uh, all that lameness sure isn't settling well with me," it grumbled in pain, holding what could either be its stomach or crotch. With puffy cheeks and a distant look in its eyes, it rushed out, "This sure ain't gonna be two scoops of raisins!"

And, surely, it was not. Fortunately, the cascade of solar heave streamlined into a shape and flow perfectly sized to fit within the casket while leaving just enough room for the lid to be closed, a deed promptly performed to not let out any of the concentrated suckage.

"Additionally," tagged on Kno, "sun chunks reek."

So, was there any actual reason you opened the coffin, or what?

"Sure, why not?" With all doubts cast aside, in his mind, at least, Wuhn gave a tug to his coat's fly and started off on the adventure he never started but kinda did not really but was now so deal with it.

Makes sense to me. Meanwhile, at a distant location, the king and the student looked 'pon a sign marking the cross road, trying to discern it. Additionally, I was resolved of my additional personality yet still have issues with my parents... because they never existed. ... sniff.

"I don't know what his problem is," Rex stated, "aside from the one he just openly admitted having-"

I didn't mention it, Gary interrupted, wearing a dress.

"-but that was pretty straight forward directions to me. Well, all but the stupid pole they were attached to. I mean, two plus two is so not four." Hadoleo, however, found them harder to read, reading deeply into the markings. During his ponder, the airborne snake crashed back to the earth, impaling itself on the idiotic post, but this did not deter his attention.

Scratching his head, cleaning his glasses, and preparing astronomy charts, he begged, "What does it mean..."

Deli Dale- Where you want to go.

Tavern- The complete opposite of where you want to go.

Sound Garden- Ten years ago

And so the travelers doth venture further from the places they have been, never to return to them again!

Kno Wuhn was confused as to whether or not he existed once again, up until the point at which he said "I think therefore I am," at which point he disappeared from existence again, most likely to return at a point where he will conveniently advance the adventure.

Upon the Rumblers almost simultaneous arrival at the Padded Poodle Highway, save Gariland and Bimblesnaff, D charged over the dog composed path screaming "The Great Gatsby of Godliness shall be mine, and with it I shall resurrect the spirit 1950's America!" . Following closely was Hadoleo, whose intensive study of canines lead him to say "This highway isn't poodles at all, furthermore it isn't by definition a highway, and blah blah blah..." at which point he really did begin to say blah over and over due to overloading himself with boredom.

Fortunately for the lord of the frogs, they had both in their idiocy not noticed a Puppy Pontiac of Pedaling. Unfortunately for the same, Kodiro watched from behind some technicolor bushes which was convenient as he was wearing his technicolor camouflage.

"Hmm, that ride be dope fly," the summoner of styles commented, "I would look straight bumpin' in that ride, pumpin' my tracks and sportin' my digs!"

"Speak english rainbow bouncy ball!" the D said, running past the same place once again.

And so they discovered the peril of the Poodle Padded Highways, that it is a system of complicated on and off ramps from which no mortal or immortal without some sort of map service can overcome!

And so they continued, the blue vagrant pedaled throughout the highway in search of his off ramp to the Deli Dale, Kodiro attempted to 'jack' the frog's ride only to get run over several times, and the D knight went on the same off and on ramps coninually shouting "Wheeeeeeeee!", despite the fact that he was just running. Hadoleo however sat down and searched for a map online using his laptop.

"Aha, refmaps dot com will lead me out of here!" the nerd master exclaimed, his voice cracking with each syllable.

As soon as the map was pulled up however, a great tremor shook the ground. The sound of several million dogs barking could be heard as the highway bent and twirled, crashing Mint's ride and tossing all off to the highway's initial on ramp.

The highway sprouted a sign near the entrance. With a chorus of small barks, words began to appear, at the sight of which the Frog King shrieked.

"AAAAhhhh, reading!"

Hadoleo however, shined with nerd juices at the chance to show off his literacy. "It's saying, The Poodle Padded Highway... Impossible to pass... Blocking... Plus five against fire... Immune to maps. Well that explains that. Hey...!"

VD was still attempting to catch the canine causeway ablaze until Kodiro once again attempted to tweeze him.

"Egads! A transsexual is trying to pilfer my coins with his clamps of doom!"

"Fo sho fool, you'd be fly as anythin' if you'd just let me get dat ear hair" The fashion mage told.

"Nay unfair maiden, it is my only defense against the book boy's sonic dork attack!"

As if on cue the geek emit a shrill voice crack that knocked the frog and mage out completely, while leaving the night only annoyed.

"Ive got it!" The student proclaimed, unaware of his sonic assault. "If this highway is a bunch of dogs," he continued, "then this ought to work!"

With that the greasy youth yanked a small kitten from his backpack, releasing it to the ground. As it stretched and purred, a low rumbling came from the ground. It was not until it mewed that the highway charged at the cat. Grabbing the nerd's small frame in one hand, D dived away just as several thousand tons of poodle crashed by in highway form. The road chased the kitten for dozens of miles until it reached the mythical city of cosmic dogcatchers. The bloodshed from the battle is remembered as legendary throughout all time, but that is neither here nor Rumblo.

Just as all in the small party began to stir again, a motorcycle could be heard approaching. Kodiro was quick to note "Dayum, that nucka be dope like a rope!" before being relieved of his consciousness by the disturbing Man-Frog.

Gariland screeched to a halt, with the purple clad Goblin stashed under some rocks in the side car. Leaping from the seat and performing several unnecessary flips to approach the group, the non-goth drew his sabre to the sky and struck a pose before saying,

"I'm here to kick ass and chew bubble gum, and Im all outta' bubble gum..."

"Well," the nerdling squeaked, "we kind of beat everything here."

With that Gariland took a drag off of a cigarette which magically appeared in his hand, threw off and stomped a pair of sunglasses produced through similar means, and pulled another, even COOLER pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on. He then put the cigarette out on his hand and said,


He snapped his fingers and the motorcycle drove up to him (commanded by his ultimate coolness), and drove off with the semi-crushed goblin in tow, who could be heard hoarsely saying, "I only said this one thing the entire time!" before disappearing into the sunset.

The other four, more confused then awestruck, save Kodiro who was fist-struck and unconscious, just stood around.

"To the Fatty Flapjacks of Faith so I can satisfy my hunger!" D yelled storming off.

"I wonder how we can get to the Deli Dale now..." Hadoleo asked in a stupor.

"I think I can answer that!" Came a voice from Kno Wuhn specific

While Kodiro dreamt of selling Funk Knight lingerie, our humble narrator sulks off from the group since there is another not quite existing entity that has everyone’s attention.

“Just a second! I thought you couldn’t think!” pointed out Hadoleo.

You wouldn’t know that.

“Yea… I wouldn’t.” The student turns to the cloaked figure. “Just who are you anyway?”

Wuhn never answered the question, practically because it would have been too complex of an action to answer, listen, and still remember the answer to the question previous. “If one wishes to obtain the ex. Edition of the dairy of lore, the next destination would be the through the town atop the Mesa of Sadistic Lovers of Hamsters!”

And the stragglers started on their way to the-

“ No, wait, that’s how I get to that fantastic shop of rainbows. We must tread through Yugothor’s Yard of Florescent Feet!”

On cue an eerie glow came from over the hill. The travelers gazed in awe at the plethora of colors and started over-

“Uh guys, that was that rainbow shop just opening. We have to take this chute to his garden.” Wuhn motioned to a slide that extended into the earth, with a very timid D sitting at the top.

“What’s the matter, jolly green giant?” childed the Amphibian sultan.

“I want my mommy!” blubbered the broken-down beserker from his perch. “I can’t follow a guy that rides a motorcycle down a tube. There’s just no beating it. Unless-”

Grabbing the Bufo-sapien by his collar, the Knight of Funk proceeded to use him as a state of the art bodyboard, making their way down into the hole.

“Kickflip! Weeeee!” Rex screamed with glee.

The living nerd followed headfirst, with his backpack to serve as a pillow’case anything hard lay at the bottom. All the while yammering about how the construction was below several chld safety protocols. Next cameth…well, are you two coming or what?

“Me?” questioned Kno, as he stood a fair distance from the fashion mage, poking him with a long and slender glass log. “I’m not going down there, its dark and scary.”

Yet you’ve been not existing in a dark void for-

“Jibba, cease wit yo stick a’ hate! Tis mangling my mascara!” Complained the designer of dark arts who had been conscious and standing patiently for quite sometime.

You wear mascara?...I always thought that was natural.

“Why thank-“

Anyway, tis not really dark, you can see a growing light at the end of the tunnel, as well as a steady rumbling sound.

“I just said it was pretty!” Ranarum’s voice projected from somewhere in the tunnel.

With a giant gush of wind a rainbow burst from the hole and lunged toward Kodiro, who ran away from it like a school boy with a serious gender identity crisis. Kno Wuhn’s eyes widened as he became infatuated with the being of light and began his pursuit. Eventually Kodiro tripped over his bellbottoms and fell down the slide, rainbow right behind him with Kno hanging on literally by its tail. Already at the bottom, Gariland touched down in a hurricane wheelie, hurling rocks and a ghobling in every direction.

“Too easy.” The rider muttered as he took in his surroundings. “Slave, remove me from this wretched place at once. In this haste, leave my belongings where they lie-”

“I’m a real boy!” claimed a small stone, who’s harassment was doubled by the glowing soleless appendages.

“-save that one.” The motorist seemed to extend his arm and point in a random careless direction, which happened to be where a henna inscribed boulder clung to the ceiling.

“How could you leave me?” the eyeless formation glared at Snaff, who was flattened by Vincent and Rex, who preferred it on the bottom, followed shortly by Syniarian.

“I didn’t get hurt this time!” Squealed the boy brainiac, who was then bashed to the smelly ground by rainbow entangled fashion mage and Kno Wuhn.

As the completed group collected themselves I made it down the slide after having a most stupendous time. From out of a teal glow sulked a huge lupine humanoid, with black tipped ears and splotches of blood on its cheeks (which was actually cherry pudding). Gariland raised his saber and revved his engine, glaring at the monster as it opened its mouth.

“I say, oh Rumblers of Ref, might you have any chutney?”

“You mean that we won’t have safe passage and you won’t even give us directions before you try to eat us?” the student queried as he backed up.

“Eh? Oh yes, right. If you do not relinquish your chutney, I shall have no choice but to make you stay in my yard until you do.”

The frog man looked inside his manatee can-a-teen to no avail. Gariland knew himself to be too cool to have such a condiment upon his self and refused to look whilst Snaff was busy being verbally harassed by a rock. D offered his beard as chutney, but it failed the monstrous Yugothor’s test. Kno Wuhn produced a can, but it didn’t exist, and after being scolded by the lycanthrope, both the phantom condiment and man winked from existence. Kodiro didn’t bother looking as he had a rainbow latched on to his pant-leg and growling, a sound easily mistaken for a ferocious Kazoo solo. If it wasn’t looking bleak, it was certainly smelling bleak as Hadeleo confirmed the florescence of the feet were due to extreme levels of radioactivity.

“Well I, uh suppose that if you are staying the night you are going to have to sleep on the floor of my daughters’ room.”

A wall from the cave opened revealing five non-clothed trim women giggling and covering themselves with pillows. This got the fiend’s attention. “Oh wait, Chutney? Here, I gots a can for ya.” The creature tossed the unopened container to Yugothor, and the wall slammed shut. Rex fell to the ground crying, but got up quickly since the stench overpowered him.

“Good chap you are there!” Voiced the abomination as he pulled a foot from the ground, slathered the chutney upon it and shoved it in his mouth. “I sure do enjoy the tangy flavor and my daughters do so love it as a body topping. Now, if you are to continue your journey, proceed to my left and you will find an opening leading you to the high tech Wadi of Whimsical Weasels.”

“A wadi is-” The geek began to cite the dictionary.

An Oasis.” Muttered everyone else as they started up on their quest once more.

Soon the travelers escaped the pungent smell of the yard and found the sky once again, as well as a tree rimmed oasis. Its only entry was barred by a single stand that read:

Weasel Construct Mark One’s Admissions/Pretzel Booth. Pay to enter and get a free pretzel, or suffer the wrath of flame vision.

Yes, it was a really big sign.

“Uh, guys, we got a problem.” Voiced the grizzled knight as the band shifted nervously. “I don’t like pretzels.

What will our brave heroes to doth? I shall find out soon, but first, I require a bathroom break! Forsooth! I have not hath a rest forever! Mine tiny body holdeth a bladder no larger than a fortnight or some other olde-tymey garbage like that!... eth!

At that, the narrator ran away quickly for a much deserved rest, leaving the normal rounds of description to his good, omniscient but recently neglected friend, Third Person.

"That's aight, Dee," brushed off the lunatic. "If ya dun like pretzels, ya can always go down that path," he explained with a point.

"Isn't that a cliff?" responded the Rex, in a blatant display of realizing the obvious.

"Of course it isn't!" lied the fiend. "It is a short-cut. It leads directly to the Merry Cherry Ferry, and I'm going to git to it 'fore y'all! Eat it, suckas!" Bimblesnaff screamed as he plummeted to a certain doom. In just moments, a very awesome motorcycle shot up from out the abyss, carrying everyone's favorite Gariland and the puny, green one strewn out on the back. Without any explanation as to how he got down there nor how he was able to ride up the cliff face, the swordsman dove his steel horse directly into an equally unexplained truck. From the resulting explosion drove Gariland, as unscathed as his motorcycle, with a now extra-crispy goblin on board. He rode to a spiraling stop, casting a cloud of dust from beneath the front tire that the other Rumblers were honored to be enveloped and choked by.

The once-goth removed the freshly lit cigarette from his mouth. "Thanks, kid," he said cooly, "I needed a light."

"I want to have your babies," whispered Kodiro, but no one heard him. At least, they pretended not to.

"Bla!" abruptly segued Kno Wuhn. "I am tired of constantly being ignored by you, like I don't exist or something!"

"But you don't," rationalized Hadoleo.

"Shut up!" Kno snapped. "I am here for evil and stuff!" He then promptly removed a banner, displaying his sinister yet lame slogan.

"Um... so, does that mean you're after the Legendairy, too, or are you trying to kill us?" questioned the king.

"Uh, lemme think about that," Kno stalled while doing some sort of mental calculation with his bare fingers. "That second one sounds more evil and more stuff, so I'll go with it! Prepare to be whatever it is I just said I would do to you!"

"We're under attack!" warned the frog, as though any of the others could not know.

"Oh no!" shouted the startled D-Knight.

"Since we all have a common enemy," rallied the Rex Ranarum, "it would be best if we worked together for a change instead of competing."

"We're competing?" shouted the startled student. "Since when?"

Oh snappeth! A fight scene! The party called off their arms to giveth me time to get popcorn for the ensuing bloodbath, starting with the man-tadpole -- or, if you will, a tad-man, or a man... let's stick with tad-man.

"Mighty Spear!" called the toady tyrant, producing the polearm from apparently no where.

"Hook-Blade!" snarled the Ghobling, whirling the attached links in a frenzy.

"Wardrobe Wand!" wimpily waved the wizard of wears.

"Smaire!" yelled the old knight.

"Oh, so that's what a smaire is," commented Kodiro.

Indeed, it was an impressive sight to behold. It was the most beautiful smaire ever; dare I spake the most impressive thing in all Ref. In fact, it was so awesome that it flew up from the grizzled old man's grasp and to a more suitable owner.

"Smaire Sabre!" summoned Gariland, uniting the smaire into his collective of coolness by merging it with his old sword, transforming it into something even cooler and slightly more deserving of its owner. "I'm cool," he progressed to say, which is perhaps the least cool thing anyone could possibly say; however, being able to get away with this proved just how cool Gariland truly was.

"Dorky Awkwardness!" Hadoleo continued the arms call, and displayed it quite well.

"That's not a weapon," hissed the mad goblin. "That'll get ya hurt more than it'll ever hurt anyone else."

"It is too a weapon." defended the nerd. "I use it to repel women all the time."

"Women?" sputtered the amphibian. "What women? We never encounter any out here."

"Sure we do, freaky frog man! What about those hot daughter's of ol' chutney-boots back dere?" remembered the lunatic.

"Those were sock puppets," informed the frog.

"... I still say they count."

"Fine-fine-fine," the student dismissed. "I'll just use my All-Purpose Swab then."

Now the line and the weapons were drawn, ready for a battle of epic proportions! But the opponent was suddenly no where to be seen. They wrongly assumed that Kno Wuhn had simply vanished from all existence again, but he had in fact simply tripped over a stray lace... from Kodiro's man-panties!

And so, 'twas onward to the Wadi of Whimsical Weasels! The entire party paid their price of entry, save for the green-clad knight, who had never thought of paying to enter and simply not eating the pretzel. Dee also never believed that the wrath of flame vision would be his own. The eyes that burneth were blindly misdirected at the poor student, whose nerdy oils only aided in the combustion.

"Great, now how are we supposed to catch up?" Hadoleo asked no one. Of course, Dee was also there, but the student's newfound snail friend made better conversation than the goliath, who happened to be green but was not a "green goliath" on account of copyright laws. And so, the nerd did what any nerd would do -- he took out his computer. "Hmm," he analyzed the once-again functioning maps in deep thought, "according to this, there is a shortcut to the Carpeted Canyon through..." The label on the map almost caused Hadoleo to explode from a fanboy overload. "The Shire!"

"Actually, that landmark is called 'Not That Shire.'" The nerd's overwhelming disappointment was soon taken over by the realization of an even bigger surprise.

"Dee, you can read?"

"Huh," mumbled the giant, who was currently attempting to fulfill his mission to fit his entire person within his own stomach. The youth did not know this, however, as he did not want to know the reason half the giant's one arm was in his own mouth and half of the other arm, missing.

"Actually, that was me." Hadoleo turned to see the origin of the words, the conch snail.

"Of course it was," he huffed. "At any rate, we gotta start moving to stay ahead of the other group!" That was a lie. The path he intended to travel was a little-used longcut. This did not matter to the young student, however. In order to visit a Shire -- even if Not That Shire -- he would do anything, which was fortunate as he would have to go through Mount St. Helenback to get there, the second largest vinegar-and-baking-soda volcano in all of Refdom. "C'mon. Aren't you coming, Dee?"

"What? Me?" asked the elder. "Oh, I get it. To stop the new infectious strain of pants going around, we have to combine my brawn with your brains."

"Don't be ridiculous," discouraged the student. "Unattached from their bodies, all those brains in my backpack have little more use than to oh! You mean like that!"

And so the D-Knight paired with the student for the time being along the path less traveled, never realizing the danger he wasn't in as his skull-meat was of very little interest to the youth. Back at the Wadi, our dear Rumblers meet their greatest obstacle yet...

"Damn is this place boring," flatly put the lunatic.

"For swear," Kodiro backed him up. "I mean, sho' there're weasels around, but they're hardly whimsical."

"That one sorta is," Bimblesnaff corrected, motioning toward one with sharp, metal arms.

"Well, my cameo is over," Kaze-Musha said before vanishing into thin air.

"Okay, I just finished my pretzel," the blue clad vagrant announced, "so unless this place has any real obstacles in it, I'm leaving."

Fantastic. Hey, whatever happened to Kno? Why, he wallowed back at the entrance of the Wadi after suffering a most crushing defeat -- one not even from battle! As he picked himself up and dusted himself off, he pondered his next evil actions. Who knows what they could be? Maybe he'll shooteth a kitten from a cannon and into the sun. It won't do anything to the others, but it is certainly evil.

"Why don't you shut up, you little freak," Kno snapped. "Gah! I can't believe it happened again. All I want to do is be evil. They cannot even begin to understand the evil powers my non-existence possesses! But they keep disregarding me, leaving me behind to wallow in my own... what is this?" the mysterious man questioned the goo covering him nasally. "Chutney?" A slender lupine head then appeared, wafting up the savory smell from Kno's boots. "Whadda you want, Yugo?" Realizing that he had been found out, the lycanthrope quickly thought up a distraction.

"Why hello Kno Wuhn," he squeaked in a terrible falsetto, waving about a sexy sock puppet before the bald man.

"Hey, baby," the easily distracted Kno charmed. It cost him terribly, too, as Yugothor soon snapped down on the shiny-headed one's feet. "Ow!" he distressed. "Why is the monster growing out of your legs biting me?" He continued to question the sock he fancied until Yugo had devoured all of him.

Yugothor, quite stuffed on the anomalous man, had a sit against a tree. Something in him was not quite right; it could have been his meal's quasi-existing origins, or it could have been the sun chunks that still permeated its garb. Whatever it was, it began to take a heavy toll on the lycanthrope. Then, he realized it as he wiped away a few beads of sweat that poured down his forehead.

"What is this? Gloves?" Yugo muttered. He was almost right; they were half-gloves, completely bare at the fingers. He could feel something deep within taking over. "A werewolf... changing?" Soon, his old eyes popped out, to be replaced by smaller ones, and a red coat covered his fur one. At the final stages of the transformation, Kno's cloak -- which never existed in the first place -- wrapped around the beast-man. He picked himself from off the ground and cast down the petty sock puppet.

"Those Rumblers will pay for what they have done," claimed the wolf man, scratching his now furless head. "I shall achieve the Legendairy and make them all suffer," he continued with a sense of power that accompanied his newfound dord. "They shall all soon fear the Knu Wuhn, those wretches, those idiots, those petty beings, those..." he trailed off. "Those foolish mortals!

The Rumblers of interest kneweth not what transpired between Yugo and Kno, however, not knowing their doom would soon find them.

"We dunno what now, jive monkey?" the fashionful warlock questioned.

It doth not concern thee. The Rumblers would proceed from the uneventful Wadi to the Carpeted Canyon, but, in between, they would have to brave the terrors offered by the Snow Globe! What dangers waited for them there? And, for which Rumbler would this be their last rumble?

"Well, dun point at me," whined Bimblesnaff, smacking away Gary's finger. "Ya're ruinin' the suspense! Now I dun e'en feel like tunin' in next week."

"Say, weren't you with that hot- I mean cool guy, Gariland?" Kodiro pondered, having to fan himself at the mention of the other's name.

"Oh, he's still here," pointed out Rex, "but, for some reason, he's staying exactly ten yards away from us." Peering to their left, they saw the motorcycle of pure awesomosity jostling as its motor burned, sitting precisely thirty feet away.

"Yeah, we ain't worthy of his cool presence," the lunatic explained, "but we still get to see 'em and dream."

"Don't be crazy," awkwardly blurted out the mage of makeovers. "I wouldn't dream about him, fo' sho', bro. That's just crazy talk, mm-hmm. I mean, I wouldn't dream about an intimate encounter where I would get to gently brush back the hair hanging over his face to-"

Snapped back into reality by squealing tires, he was pleased to findeth that the others had already abandoned him, and some time ago at that. I, however, had heardeth all that thou spoketh and must now departeth to geteth professional help for my scarred mind. 'Twas just sick!

"This structure really isn't what I had expected," moped the King of Frogs. "I mean, I thought we were heading to some kind of ... ball of snow... not... this." He gazed at the several men in ponchos who shook maracas and other ethnic instruments with their funny, thick mustaches, poised in front of a simple square building with a sign reading, "Eduardo's Tacuardos". The granite giants stood motionless as glittering sparkles drifted through the viscous surroundings. Knocking his knuckle against the glass, the entire encapsulation shook. "Well, this is stupid."

"Ya're tellin' me," grumbled the maniac. "I wanted a taco, too."

"I was more referring to how I would- er, we would get to the other side," corrected Rararum. "It's not like we can just climb over it." Revving overpowered his words as the unspeakable coolness of Gariland roared past them. Its tires scaled the vertical base, ascending the glass arc with no problem or acknowledgement of conventional physics.

"Gravity is a sap's game," the epitome of excellence cried out as he tossed away a only half burnt beer cigarette, as it was lame to smoke the entire thing. Staggering behind came the rainbow colored wizard, begging for his idol to slow. Cursing that he turned his leg wear into one-legged man pants, he fired a feathered boa from his wand to latch onto the cycle. One thing the wand could not do, however, was retract. Snagged by the ever climbing vehicle, Kodiro was smashed against the glass base in front of the other two.

"Dude, ya wearin' a dress now?" expressed a disgusted fiend. "Ya just beggin' fer e'eryone ta hate ya, or what?"

"It's not a dress, they are one-legged man pants..." the magician pleaded as he was scraped up along the clear wall and out of sight.

And, so, the green and blue ones were left with a problem on their freakishly shaped hands. Little did they knoweth, the answer to their problem lied just around the corner. Bogg's ears perked as he shifted an eye to the left, looking through the transparent fortification. No, thou art not suppose to heareth these words. Cease that! Besides, 'tis to the other side. ... Oh, damn!

"Ya heard 'em, toadie," ordered the freak. "Ya have to not listen to 'em. So, sit here and do that. I ... have other matters to attend to... over here."

"Well, okay, if you say so," accepted Rex. "I guess I'll just sit here and think how to get over this. Hm, how will I manage this one? I mean, all I have is Manatee Can-a-teen, a book on constructing rockets from manatee shaped canteens, these explosives and rocket projectants left here by some state-of-the-art rocket scientists, and, oh yeah, this rocket they built because they wanted a red one and didn't have any paint." He stroked his chinless chin. "Yes... what ever shall I do..."

Trekking around the cornerless circumference in the other direction, Bimblesnaff found nothing at all. And, since he knew this fact ahead of time, he decided to turn back around and do something else. Yes, he turned around. Turned. A. Round.

"Shut it, bugger," he snapped, pushing the scrawny man over. "Somethin' be o'er here, and I intend to- a-whaaa?" He found himself confronted by a girl wearing duds that had been ripped and torn. Her porcelain skin bore strange markings, placed randomly, as dark, straight hair hung over her large, almond eyes.

"Bonjour," she greeted. "Does monsieur need something? Do you need my coney?"

"Man, I hope that's French slang," wished in vain. She giggled.

"You are silly, mon ami," she laughed. "I speak of my bunny, Caramel." Running her hand along a fuzzy mountain, the lunatic saw that it was, in fact, one hell of rabbit. It slowly raised its deep, cuddly, sinister eyes at the green skinned while crunching something in its mouth that possibly was a human arm.

"How the bleedin' hell did I not see a seven foot lagomorph?" His beady eyes slid back over to the girl. "Oh, right. ... what was distractin' me from this distraction?" Lost in the moment, he finally shook his head clear of thought. Note the singular. "What's goin' on now? Somethin' 'bout a caramel bunny?"

"No, no. She is not candy," she told. "Put away that bib and knife. And- no! She does not drop candy, either. Spit that out." Gagging on the pellets, the girl chuckled again. "You are funny man. I give monsieur le ride for free."

"Rock on," he squeaked, breathless. After the girl jumped onto her coney's back and patted for him to join her, it returned. "Oh, a bunny ride," he said, much flatter. "... yay." Leaping on Caramel's back, the fiend made sure to securely situate himself behind the rider, with safety in mind and nothing else as he told the authorities later. Quick as the wind, the enormous rabbit bound up the side of the structure, reaching the flatter top in moments. "So, um... is that what ya do? ... Give bunny rides over this thin'?"

"Oui oui," she confirmed, "although, usually, I kill them and feed them to my coney." The beady eyes widened to saucers. "Is mon ami okay?"

"I want to have your babies."

In a stellar climb to the upper atmosphere, the color of the sky faded as the stars danced over head and the sparkling glitter surged below, placing the travellers upon an invisible road. Crashing onto the unseen path on all fours, the creamy colored giant never faltered in her pace, bearing her two riders onward. Overhead, a column of smoke rose high and plateaued out straight with a wildly swaying frog man strapped to cylinder heading it. He had not learned how to operate the rocket but merely mistook it for a urinal. This somehow was the result.

Off in the midst of the glass dome, the mighty cycle sat idle as its master leaned against it for a good chill. He had no reason to take a break but did to simply show how cool he was. Kodiro, battered and bruised, had to stay eclipsed from his grand presence behind the bike. Staring off into the distance, he spotted the approach of the others they thought were left behind.

"Oh, snap fo' riz-eal! We gots to go, G-diz-og," the fashion mage seemed to speak but no being could decipher the sounds as being actual words.

"Why do I lower myself to carry you along?" asked Gariland, who did not mean it rhetorically.

"You like having me around?" the wizard of wardrobe guessed and failed. "Um, I have liz-ots of hiz-air gel, tiz-oo." Snatching a tube, the perfect hero used it to keep his hair down over his face.

"Alright, kid," Gariliand spoke in a knee weakening voice, "let's transform and roll out."

"Oohoohooho! He called me something not insulting," the clothing warlock squealed and nearly swooned. "Wait, transform?"

"Shifting to the optimal prime!" roared the reformed Rumbler as he hit hit a big red button. The sides of the bike unfolded as jet engines, larger than the cycle itself, came out, and it became an even cooler flying bike. Above letting others dictate his actions, he puffed on a shortening smoke a while longer before activating the thrusters and speeding off in two trails of fire. Kodiro clung onto Gariland for his life, which the prior did not mind, as Rex Ranarum struggled to steer the rocket straight overhead using only where it had caught his fly with the galloping hare closing in from the side. The three sets of racers sped over the starry expanse with the fire of hatred burning back in their blood. This would be a fight to the finish... after which they would proceed on to get to the Merry Cherry Ferry... but, as for now, it was on!

"This is the best birthday ever," squealed the questionably French girl in delight as she tugged the fur of her pet.

"Oh, really?" Bimblesnaff's interest peaked. "Would this happen to be your eig-"

"Even if it was, still no- aaaiiiieeee!" The space she previously occupied was taken up by the maniac's stiffly held out arms, who glowered vengefully.

"Whoops, we hit a bump," he coldly explained as she tumbled and tossed along the invisible course. He cast an eye back as the one who betrayed him, in his perverted mind, vanished fast into the horizon. "I'm sure that much blood spilling from yer head is natural, so keep on goin', Caramel." Taking the reigns, which attached to nothing, he drove the rabbit harder to take the lead.

Final words faintly rang in his ears, "... Croissant!"

Whilst all these happinin' happenin's were a-happenin', Knu Whun was busy catching up, which wasn't hard to do as , since, as his not existing for most of the story more or less violated the laws of physics as it was, he was not object to skirting a few others, like time and space, for instance.

"I've got you now you dotterel stumblebums," the pernicious one declared, confuzing even himself with his unexplicably large vocabulary. "You can't escape that which cannot exist!"

"Uhhh, those are cavemen," explained a talking rock, which couldn't really exist either, "and you do exist now." Strangely enough, it was the same talking rock that would go on to harrass our Heros(?) millions of years in the future. But there was no way Knu Whun could know that.

"Sure I could," Knu replied to a series of gutteral grunts from the smelliest caveman, which Whun took to be a challenge that even his impossible self could not travel back in time, but really meant that an Ice Age was coming and that Knu should follow the cavemen to their safety caves, where they would eat him for dinner. Not understanding this, however, Knu went in the opposite direction where he was promptly, over a series of weeks, frozen into a glacier.

Millions of years later...

Exhaust from a flying motorcycle can grow to temperatures exceeding 850°C, which was, incidentally, the exact temperature limit required to unfreeze the iceberg lying underneath the Snow Globe, and this iceberg contaned you Kno (er, Knu) who.

"N-n-n-now, I r-r-r-really g-g-gots y-youze!" the sinister shivering scoundral sneered.

"Not zo fast," came a sort-of-French voice. Despite the girl's massive head wound, she was still far better than Knu could ever hope for. "Zat green one has moi Caramel and I intended to get it back."

"Ubba, wubba, gubba, mubba........ uh, blubba," the evil one agreed.

"Zo, ve vil join forces and retreve Caramel?" the dame reiterated.

"Whatever-you-say-lady," Knu replied, almost trancelike.

"Good, hop on this," she gleefully declared, producing some sort of winged craft with footpedals and a reclining seat in back. "And pedal fast, ve 'ave a long vay to go."

By the time Knu realized he may have made a mistake, they were already in the air.

Meanwhile, in the death race...

"Hey, who said it was a death race?" protested the frogged one, and not just because he was coming in last, or so he claims.

Well, I just thought this story needed a twist (as if it weren't twisted enough)...

"Well it don't!" Mints stated, having already forgotten what "it" was and why it "don't."

Anyway, back to the race which may or may not result in injury or death, depending on the circumstances the riders face and their subsequent responses to said circumstances. Mints, now in last place due to the incredible speed of the flying bike, throws a Green Turtle Shell at Caramel, karrying 'Snaff, but due to his incredibly bad aim, it bounces back and somehow flips his rocket over. The ghobling responds by chucking a banana peel back at the amphibian, who somehow aviods it, but then manages to double-back, hoping a full banana is still contained inside. Upon finding none, he eats the peel anyway. As the two hurry up to catch the ever farther ahead Gariland and his creepy tagalong, a bunch of Nintendo's lawyers show up and sue the Rumblo-ers for copyright infringement. As Gariland was not involved, he was not included in this lawsuit, and, let's face it, who would sue someone that cool anyway?

"Hey, how come I wasn't sued if I wasn't involved either?" whined the Wrainbow Wizard.

"Because we also represent Disney and Microsoft, and between the three, they own everything you've ever done or said," one lawyer replied. "Besides, you're kinda disturbing."

"Well I still don't- hey, now that suit WORKS! Let me see that..."

"But officer, NWG clearly stated that it was a Turtle shell, not a Koopa shell, and I don't see any banana peels here, do you?" Mints argued with another, while regurgitating the peel.

Several Million dollars later...

The race was finally nearing a finish, and it was close, despite the fact that it shouldn't have been. Just as Gariland and Kodrio were approaching the finish line, a white streak came crashing down from the sky, landing just past the finish line. And no, it's not Knu and the frenchish girl. It was a gigantic paper airplane.

"Who the hell are you," Gariland questioned the Unidentified Freaky Occupant of the Identified Flying Object, making swearing cool(er).

"I am just a figment of your imagination," the small creature, like a 3 foot tall, scaly man with a whip-like tail wearing almost tasteful travelling robes (much to Kodrio's distaste) answered. When he saw no one, other than Kodrio believed him, he decided to just not answer the question, other than to say, "I'm a Level 20 Black Mage with Fire3, Ice3, Thunder3, and Flare!" When even Kodrio didn't believe this, he finally admitted, "Okay, I've heard of the Legendairy and am willing to do anything, including kill all of you, in order to get it." Despite this being the truth, they were still loathe to believe him.

"He did lie twice already..." Mints explained.

"Never mind that," Gariland sighed, realizing he was the only one competant enough know what was going on. "The goblin has reached the Carpeted Canyon while we were listening to that loser."

"Aaah, it's SHAG!!!"

"So, what do we do about this badly-accesorized guy," demanded the Fasion Mage?

"We'll figure that out when we catch the pungent one," answered the Heroic Swordsman.

"Hey, whatever happened to Vin and the Pimply Greasball of Nerdiness?" wondered the Rex Ranarum.

"I don't know," the knighted goliath answered from afar, despite not hearing the question.

Deep in the summit of Saint Helenback, the Rumblers’ brain and brawn, while eating bran, trekked through the white cap.

“Woah wait, we are going up instead of around it? Golly, I got too excited. Vin… what are you doing?”

“I’m making a snow angel!” The colossus idiot quick blurted while concealing his replica of the statue of Venus by backtackling it and going through the mandatory movements for his excuse, which he thought was the Macarena.

“Right, lets get figure out how to get down from here, after I finish burning my glasses.” Groaned Syniarian as he brushed the white flakes from his mushroom style haircut, while sampling a few grains. “Just as I thought, dried scalp, mmm salty. I deduce I’ll need to wash up before this adventure is over.” At least I don’t smell being caked in baking sod-“

“Need a bath, dive in the foul smelling water pit!” interrupted Vin as he grabbed the nerd by the neck and leapt into the enormous crater which was half full, not half empty, of vinegar. The liquid became violate as the two hit, bubbles consuming the two spelunkers. “Oh hel, make it stop! It tickles!”

“How are we going to get out of this pit” gasped Hadeleo between snorts, desperately searching through his pack for a bag of chips.

Vincent roared as he grabbed the chips and ate them bag and all “I shall channel the power of the extra sharp legendary to my being to carve a hole through this mountain, thus fulfilling my quest to become a marine!”

The student stuttered, “you can do that? That means I can do it too!” Releasing a scream so powerful that it made him sound two years older, the boy called upon the memories of every time he had been rejected by a girl and channeled them into a full powered strike with his all purpose cotton swab, resounding in a dull “thimp.” Breathing hard the angry nerd looked at the not existing-crevice he created. “Rejected again.”

“Hey look, its snowing!” dubiously pointed out the Knight of Funk as an untold amount of tons of baking soda fell into the solution, loosed by the minimal power of the blow.”

“Well Jeepers, this isn’t going to-” the now covered geek started to say as the entire mountain erupted.


Down at Not that Shire, a midget, while fishing, discovered something shiny at the bottom of the pond. Slowly wading in, he could feel the ground tremble with tremendous power or actually a large knight as he entered the body of water with a full cannonball, crushing the tiny man. Surfacing from the knee deep water after donning the ring, D proclaimed “I’m invisible!” As the Hulk laid down to attempt and fail to float along the surface, the tiny man was freed.

“I’m ok-“ the small man was able to let out as boy-science-experiment landed atop him.

“I hypothesize that the larger always lands on the smaller in this adventure.” He geeked almost oblivious to his craaaaazy travel not even seconds ago. “I’m going to have to drag this kind fellow along with us.”

“My precioussssphffftuuu!” the mini-man spat out water, fish and a bunch of ninjas, at least the ones that had just passed the “shallow water hazards” test. “My precious face! Its been soiled by unholy hair!” This however was quickly remedied by a bunch of black cloaked people riding tricycles. “Thank you so much” the little person returned the handkerchief to the lead rider, who promptly ate the dirtied garment and consumed its soul.

“We are the survivors from the other half of the pub.” Or actually “we arf maw swawywos fphwom maw owa haff ov maw pfthub” said the robed man through the screams of the linen.

“How did you get here?” Hadeleo questioned but then added “You probably rode those nonstop while we were standing around with too long of dialogues.” But they were already gone. “Probability indicates that the band of tavern patrons will meddle in other’s affairs. Hopefully they’ll be foiled due to their lack of monikers.”

“I know a shortcut to the Carpeted Canyon,” The lesser known shrimp tugged on Vincent’s arm whilst the student’s hypothesis continued endlessly “Down in the Cavernous Coup of Kilt Wearing Contaminated Pigeons.”

The field of vision of the adventurers was suddenly filled with a spinning Ref Logo! As it disappeared, they found themselves outside of their short guide’s advertising studio and at the mouth of the Cavern. Hadeleo was still yammering and Vincent was inexplicably enjoying a smoothie of unknown origin and contents, presumably orange though.

“So wait, why are you helping us again?” asked the greenish giant who was oblivious to the small man staring at the hand that wasn’t fit with the ring.

“Oh um, my father impeded you last rumble and I was cursed to be short until the wrong was righted. I really want to make the basketball team.”

The question of just how old this hobbit was or who was his father was never questioned, for the horde of pidgeons was upon them with squawks of “Och, aye!”

“I thought pigeons went ‘coo.’” Noted Hadeleo.

“They all got laryngitis.” Explained the wee man, “except for that one with the bandana, he suffers from dementia and thinks he’s a pirate squash.” At which point it sounded a rather convincing pirate squash mating call.

And at that the scourge of the skies swarmed the small squad of spelunkers while coughing and ruffling their kilts. Overwhelmed by sheer number and disgust alone, the giant and student quickly worked together and held each other in the fetal position, awaiting their death of Sars, Bird flu, AIDs, or most horridly a severe case of diarrhea. From the corner of the coup the hobbit, whose name was actually Jane since no one asked, pulled out his only line of defense and the best way to rid the world of the avian menace: a desert eagle.

From his pocket it flew like a rocket, laughing between each kill pronounced with a “head shot!” Feathers and kilts fell like rain, along with eyes and pieces of brain, as the eagle called: “headshot!” Foes all vanquished and without heads, Vincent and Hadeleo loosed themselves from the dead, gave thanks to their savior who simply said “headshot!” His beady eyes searched around, in the sky and upon the ground, and when it was decided it couldn’t be found, he flew off for a trophy for his “headshot!” And promptly was incinerated by Rex’s Rocket!

“Yay I was mentioned!” he annunciated.

“Well, er thanks for the shortcut-“ the still living embarrassment to all that is testosterone (aside from Kodiro) started as he realized Jane had transformed into an enormous Cyclops.

“I feel not short anymore!” Jane as he ran off to enlist to the varsity hobbit school team.

And oh how his dream would come true…but I digress, the brains and brawny of the adventurers have finally caught up to the others in the carpeted canyon. And just walked past Bimblesnaff.

“Yew STOOPID hare!” The fiend pitched a fit from atop the gargantuan rabbit as it grazed upon the acrylic fiber of the earth, not even flinching from the horrible throw. “MOOOOVE!”

Back at Saint Helenback, something stirred from beneath the ashen powder, that is to say sodium acetate and not baking powder. Stirring from the grit, he arose, something evil, something truly not good, something suck!

"By the power of Arm and Hammer I live once more!"

The sinister role model laughter continued to a proper loud volume as the mountain shook again, in sheer disgust.

Having been freed from his deathly prison by the basic surroundings, Jack rose up from his eroded coffin.

"I told 'em that freezing me and dumping me into a volcano was the stupidest idea ever. Who woulda thunk that baking soda could eat away wood?" Jack asked his only friend -- no one at all. "Wait, that wasn't even a play on words. I just said the word... wood! Oh, I like the sound of it so much!"

"Me, too," Kodiro agreed, momentarily poking his head through a gateway in his multi-dimensional pants.

"Sweet Sawmill Sally!" exclaimed the handyman before lunging at the many-colored mage's head. Both tumbled through the portal and back into the reality of the Carpeted Canyon, disappointing everyone with the suddenly increased amount of suckage.

"Jack Phillips? I thought Yugothor devoured you?" posed Rex Ranarum, who had recently reached the finish line himself.

"No, not yet," Knu Wuhn interrupted, utilizing his vague definition of existence and Heisenberg-spite to appear before them. "I'm slated to eat Jack and turn into Knur Wuhn on the next page, thus finally confirming my existence so I won't keep magically blinking like this and ruining things."

"Oh, right," the king agreed. "Well, I still wish you were dead... right now... and what is that thing supposed to be?" he demanded to know, pointing at the recently wrecked reptile.

"Why, I am a candy bunny," the lizard man lied yet again.

"Mmmmm, living talking candy," the frog spoke in trance and then attempted to force the thing into his gullet.

"Halt! He is one of us!" a non-NWG voice boomed. There, riding in from the setting sun was a team of robed men. Of course, they rode tricycles, and the horizon was quite a distance away, so it did take a long while for them to arrive. It isn't like they had anything better to do, though, like attain some legendary cheese, so the group patiently awaited the mysterious newcomers.

The first sun rose to rouse the sleepy travelers, comfortably accommodated for on the plush canyon floor. Kodiro yawned and stretched, laughing at the others. "Ha! And yo all sez that I was a sissy fo' bringin' a pink frilly pillow on the Rumble!"

"No," Rex stated harshly, finally spitting out the little scaly man he had kept at mid-eat the entire night. "We called you a sissy because of look at you! You have a freakin' magic wand for cryin' out loud!" Thinking harshly of the tadpole's comment, the wardrobe wizard got his revenge by using said wand to change the blue clad vagrant's trademark jacket to a slightly darker shade, making it totally clash with his whole feel and moreso proving the amphibian's point.

"Okay, okay," an out-of-breath tricycler panted as he and his entire band wheeled up to the waiting Rumblers. "Okay... we're here... what were we coming here for?"

"You were nail-gunning Rex Ranarum's chance at eating that lizard man!" said do-I-even-need-to-tell-you?

"Nail-gun...? Dude! Do you even know anything about carpentry?"

"Do you even know hammer across the back of the head!" Jack retorted.

"... Um, aren't you gonna... hit me across the back of the head with a hammer or somthin'?" the confused toad asked.

"I lost my hammer," admitted the disgraced handyman, "after I put it in my tool belt."

"But you don't even wear a tool belt."

"Yeah... that made it a lot easier to lose, too," realized Mr. Phillips. "I do have this 'L'-shaped dealy, tho'. It is metal, and I bet it could hurt you if I hit you with it."

"You mean... a square?" corrected the Prince of the Paddocks. "Never mind, it looks like these robed weirdos are ready to talk."

"That we are!" proclaimed the first weirdo. "We are the survivors of the pub-splosion! That scaly-man is with us!"

"You is all Rumblers, too?" the sorcerer of suit-coats spat out. "But where y'all been all dis time? We ain't seen ya once!"

"You see," began their leader, "it is a very long tale to tell.... We were...

in Ref

"Hey, we all survived the explosion."

"Yay! Let's ride these tricycles to the Legendairy! I'm sure they won't be slow!"

"Okay, but first, we have to stop off at the black robe store."

"I'm on a giant paper airplane!"

... and that is my tale... our tale," the leader concluded.

"What? That's it?" attacked the blue clad vagrant. "You guys are worse than Jack!"

"Yay!" he cheered obliviously. "... no, wait. I'm not as bad as... er, what's your name?"

"I have no name," the mysterian told. "We from ye old tavern are nameless!"

The frog looked over the robed figures, each appearing as a thin, nondescript man shrouded in darkness. "Well, that sorta sucks that you don't have names. I mean, how are we s'posed to tell you apart? I'll just call you Nameless #1."

"No, don't!" their lead figure protested before vanishing in a puff of smoke, accompanied by a distinct "pop" sound.

"You can't give us names!" argued another still-living mysterian. "We're nameless! It'll kill us!"

"Well so-or-ry, Whiny!"

"... Was... was that a nickname you just gave me, or were you just describing me as 'whiny'?"

"Nickname," Rex Ranarum responded. "Didn't you hear the capitalization? Whiny. Whin-Wh-Wh-Whiny," he emphasized.

"Oh, okay... no!" were the complainant's final words.

"Hey, this is easy. Let's give that chocolate repto-bunny a name, too," suggested the king with an evil glint in his protruding, green eyes.

"Uh, that won't work on me," again deceived the scaly dwarf, who was clearly a sociopathic liar. "I already have a name."

"We rest actually have names," informed the new leader of the tricyclers. "I am ... Ab-Omination!" he called, casting off his robes to reveal an enormous frame without a head. Well, he had a head, but it was his stomach. "I have no head, but a face is on my stomach!" he pointlessly reiterated. "I have the power to make other characters cool by contrast!" he blathered on as the more sane Rumblers tried to figure out how this monstrosity fit inside the tiny robe, let alone had a head when clothed. "And this is my friend, Bad Pun Joe!" Ab-Omination rambled. On queue, the mysterian disrobed to reveal a rather plain looking individual.

"Bad Pun Joe?" repeated the handyman. "I don't get it."

"His name is a bad pun," explained the mutant.

"Is it even a pun?"

"Yeah... that's what makes it such a bad pun. I don't really know why we're friends," wondered aloud the Ab-Omination. "Anyhoo," he once again yelled, "next in our both nondescript and pathetic roster is Sweet Sawmill Sally!" The girl disrobed in a manner much less exciting than one would expect from the phrase "The girl disrobed."

"Hey, baby," slyly spoke Jack.

"And also, this man!" the freakily-faced one continued.

"Hey, baby," Kodiro spoke to a young infant that crawled out of one of his extra-dimensional pockets. "Finders keepers!"

"Sally, eh?" the curious king croaked, rubbing the smooth underbelly where a chin should be. He eyed the girl in more than just a perverted way. Well, he did that, too, but the king also thought about where he had seen the adorable yet unusually plaid sailor suit she wore before. Kodiro, meanwhile, just wanted to know where he would purchase the outfit... for materials. "At any rate," the frog went on, "your name is too long, and since it has three parts -- each beginning with 'S' -- it only makes sense to shorten your name as:" and then he proceeded to make a long hissing sound. The bloody saw wielding maniac only giggled in response.

"I must stop the starfish army from taking over the world!" screamed the green knight who just now stormed through the canyon. "You!" the hulk halted, pointing an angry finger at the Ab-Omination.

"Grrrr," growled the finger.

The greenish goliath tackled the Ab-Omination for underexplained reasons before the stomach-face hath a chance to respond. An epic battle ensueth... ensuethed... no, I was right the first time -- ensueth. The mutant calleth out for aid from his ally, but she was occupied in the manner all women who spake with the King of the Frogs for twenty of your Earth seconds are -- she was hacking him asunder with chainsaw hands, which coincidentally is the very thing the toad hath inappropriately commented upon to draw her ire. I steppeth back from the raging battles, for my wares were getting blood-speckles. And alas, I need not know whatever the Rex Ranarum ate for breakfasteth.

Far away, sinister ears perked up. A large, crooked nose sniffed the faintest scents in the air. "A woman!" the lunatic exclaimed. "One that I'm not hitting on!" He threw away the bone he was using for a toothpick and hastily stamped out the fire below a mostly cleaned spit-roast. "Hmm, I dun think there is any time to look for that baby I lost... Meh, I can just take this rocket," the fiend stated, observing the discarded rocket off in the shag. "Ew, why does smell so bad?"

"Oh, c'mon guys!" the squeaky-voiced Joe complained to the battling giants. "We still have four more characters to introduce!" The massive fight rolled over and utterly crushed one of the still concealed figures. "... Three more. Ah, who cares. Just introduce yourselves. I'm going back to the pub for a pint."

"Uh, hey," said a very disenheartened, frosty mysterian. "I... I am going to go over here now," the ice-armored Rumbler? (pronounced with shrugging shoulders) stated, making good on his promise and going over there, which happened to be the direction Hadoleo was catching up from.

"Stupid mission of appeasing the volcano god," grumbled the belated student, passing the squid-gut covered adventurer with little notice. "What made Dee think that I was a hey! What's going on here?"

"What's going on is Goeenon -- who is me! My name is Goeenon!" told the other robed man, who revealed himself to actually be a large, metallic bird.

"Oh come on!" griped the somehow long-lived king. "That guy isn't even guy-shaped!"

"Don't mock him!" defended the nerd, oozing with an otaku-fanboyism unmatched in Ref. "It was cool because it made no sense. And it was random!"

"And I am called," began the final mysterian, removing his coverings, "Robe!"

"Wow! Under his robe, he was a guy dressed in a robe!" snorted Hadoleo. "So cool!"

"Oy veh," the despaired toad muttered. "Well, I'm sure you will all lead long and meaningful lives instead of being kill-fodder for us more popular characters." Just then, a fiery projectile crashed into the ground, demolishing the shiny raptor. "... Yeeeaaaahhhhh...."

"Whoa, what'd I miss?" the green-skin asked, poking his head up from the wreckage. "And just to clarify, most of that smell was already on the rocket when I got it. Hey! There she is," Bimblesnaff smoothly said when he caught glimpse of Sweet Sawmill Sally. "Whoa, buzz-saw hands? Then h-"

"Been there, dude," saved the toad. "You do not want to travel down that path. What took you so long, anyway?"

"Didja ever wonder what giant rabbit tastes like?" posed the fiend, still atop the flaming corpse of the newcomers' friend. "Hey, what're these? Metal wings? Ya know what they say: A man with wings can do anythin', but a man with a rocket can do everythin'!" he recited. "And a man with a winged rocket can do everyone!"

"No one says that," corrected the blue-skin.

"Yes I can!" the goblin cackled, hopping atop his newly fashioned and almost copyright-infringing glider and flying away.

"Fan-tastic," the frog unenthusiastically stated. "Well, now that you are all introduced and all, I guess it's time to murder." His words knocked the tricyclers out of the shock from their recently killed friend and into a new one concerning their own impending doom.

"But don't you remember?" Bad Pun Joe informed. "You can't kill us by giving us names." Rex Ranarum shrugged. Unfortunately for them, it was not a "guess you're right" shrug, but rather a "gonna kill you anyway" shrug.

"Wait, what happened to Gariland?" Kodiro finally realized, momentarily postponing any death.

"He must have ridden off while we were all waiting here," Phillips pointed out with an obnoxious laugh. "Looks like we are all screwed."

"Stop using that pun," snapped the frog. "It sucked then; it sucks now. Besides, that's an easy problem to fix. Jack, Hadoleo, paper-rock-scissors, now."

In a faraway and very cool place, Gariland raced on with his awesome motorcycle and just-as-cool smaire saber.

"Yeah, I'm going to win this thing," the non-goth told someone. He isn't going to talk to himself; that isn't cool. Instead, he spoke with one of his many fans lining the side of the road. Suddenly, he stopped. "I'm stayin' right here. Lady-fans! Come to Gariland!"

"Oh, I get it," Syniarian pieced together. "By having Jack Phillips win a game of paper-rock-scissors, winning was made uncool and Gariland wouldn't do it. But what would we have done if I would have won?"

"... Yeeeaaaahhhhh...." Rex left unanswered, scratching the back of his head with webbed fingers. All the sudden, Knu Wuhn leapt down from the sky, carrying heavy steel into the soft ground besides the vagrant. The king stood for a moment, entirely silent, as his eyes quickly dulled. His head moved only a little, until it rolled to his feet and out into the middle of the group, never losing the snugly fit cap it. Everyone looked down to the eyes that looked back, waiting for some smart remark to come out. But it never did. Only blood came out.

"Duuuuuuuude!" exclaimed the nerd. "That is so anime!" Then, the Rex Ranarum walked by, looking too at the severed head. "That is so anime too!"

"I can't believe it!" the frog refused. "Knu just cut off the head of the French girl dressed in a me costume!"

"What?" sputtered Knu Wuhn. "Aw, crappit! I knew I should've attacked someone she wasn't disguised as! That's just common sense! Come to think of it, I don't know how her plan was supposed to accomplish anything..." He wiped his snout and sniffled a little for his newly-deadened new ally. "Poor French girl. She wasn't that bad, although she did sound more Russian than French after that bump to her head.

Then dispelled of confusion, Knu Wuhn rallied the now named Nameless in an assault against the Rumblers in retaliation for slaying Goeenon and the bunny girl, despite it being his own fault, with the help of Jack Phillips, who heldeth an equal vendetta against the gang. The battle that ensuethed was long and epic, or so I thinketh it was. I hath the strong urge for a cheese sandwich at the time and departed during the long uneventfulness to fulfill my desire. When I returnethed, the waging was long since passed with the defeated left licking their wounds and the victors long since departed. That, or they were at the near by juice bar of the Carpeted Canyon famous for its freshly squeezethed shag. Mmm, disgusting. As the Nary Wary Gary munched his mysteriously acquired meal, a man draped in a drab, gray coat strolled along by with something catching his eye.

"Dude! That's not cheese!"

"I cannot believe our ultimately evil and therefore better coalition failed to defeat those for some reason unified Rumblers," cursed the clothed wolf man to pull attention away from the now vomiting mouthless narrator of the Rumblo, which opened up far too many questions to even be delved into. "More unbelievable, I can't believe the arctic warrior received a perfect scar over his eye that marked only the skin and left his eye itself in tact."

"Too bad the rest of him was hacked, maimed, and cubed," the mysteriously robed Robe added with his cliche, raspy voice. "If only it was our enemy who was responsible for it." He slightly cast an eye towards Sweet Sawmill Sally but did not wish to incur the same gruesome fate. "Besides, the attributes to this failure are undoubtable placed upon the shoulders of the handyman and the lizard folk who did nothing to aid our cause."

"I'm surprised I'm still here, too," confessed the compulsive liar with undetectable sincerity.

"Hey, my time was spent sandpapering the wounded," Phillips shouted in his defense. "I mean, guarding."

"Do you even know what you are doing any more?" Ab-Omination questioned, despite having been torn in twine by the D Knight and quite dead. "Better yet, do we even want to know what you are doing? You took that poor decapitated girl behind a bush and spent most of the battle there. And, seriously, I know she was French, but was the maid outfit really necessary?"

"She was French?" Appalled by Jack's everything, the stomach faced freak returned to death.

"Phillips, you weirdo," roared the currently still Knu Wuhn as he snatched the dressed up, beheaded girl from the handyman. "Now, you best all work something out while I go away for a while." Stomping away with the corpse and a trail of still spewing blood lying in his tracks, the battered legion shrugged as to their next move.

"Well, as second in command, I say that we try to kill them again using the exact same tactics as before. Yep, if I learned anything from old, Saturday morning cartoons, it's that the same tactics applied endless will be successful," spouted out this man.

"Aw, no way," whined the drifting away spirit of Ab-Ominiation. "This man wasn't killed but I was? Lame!" And he was never heard of again. Seriously, he wasn't. I mean it. An alien soul catcher was lying in wait for his ascension and whisked his essence away to their abysmal factories to turn it into black licorice.

I always suspected it of being the purest of evils, an enraged Gary fumed with shaking fists clinching the hat he purchased from the alien gift shop on his tour of the very facilities to get his mind off the terrors of the supposedly cheese sandwich.

"Fools! That will not end the Rumblers," Robe hissed from beneath the concealment of his hood. "It will take power, dark power, true power! Behold! My true form!" Casting off his robes, he revealed... bigger robes! Its many layers and ornament points could have in no way fit under the initial robes, let alone the even smaller, second robes that were under it.

"Nay," protested a voice familiar yet different. "True power does not lie in robes but in cannibalism! Behold! My newer power!" From out of a bush suspended in solitude in all the Carpeted Canyon, the lupine beast sprung. His stylish red jacket had turned a cold shade of blue with spiked pads on the shoulders and the shirt beneath it striped black. His pants had changed to tattered and stitched with more spiked pads. "I am Gnu Wuhn!" They all knew it was spelled different despite being pronounced exactly the same.

"No! You ate the arctic warrior, the French girl, and the comparably worse stomach man?" voiced this man in shock. "And how is that even suppose to make you better? They died because they sucked."

"Yes and no," responded the re-remade being, choosing to ignore the second question. "Nothing could be gained from Ab-Omination. I merely skewered his body on this pike to wave around as a standard to make us seem slightly less crappy even in his passing." Waving around the spear with the two halves, a bedazzled hush of awe washed over them all.

"Er, then you devoured the bunny girl and the frigid gladiator?" repeated this man with the corrections, not recapturing the emotion he had the first time.

"Well, not quite..." The improved wolf man trailed off. This man's eyes travelled to the previous location of the icy soldier's remains, finding only a terrible blood stain in the carpet, then to the French girl's body, which was still quite their.

"Is her neck hole bigger?" Robe noted with his deep, ominous voice that entirely did not match the situation.

"I do not see Bad Pun Joe around either," spoke up the reptile. "I assume he was banished to the same gastric fate?"

"Bad Pun who?" Gnu Wuhn blurted with a confused twist of his facial features. "I didn't even know there was another one of you losers."

"Um, neither did I. Now, I'll have to level with you: I think I should bolt on account of being such a tool," stated the obvious, wiping his mouth with a blood soiled napkin that he for some reason still had possession of.

"Feh! You are all so pathetic. I do not even see how you could ever hope to defeat them."

"Who dared to say that?" growled Gnu Wuhn with a frosty breath. Darting around his yellow eyes, they finally caught a fleeting image. Gasping, he called out, "You!"

Departing from the many Nameless and other villainous ones-

"Hey, I was in the middle of something," whined Wuhn against the actions of Gary.

Shut up. 'Tis more suspenseful this way. To stoppeth thy yapping, accepteth this token of licorice. Tossing the man-beast the black snack as more important details were being gotten back to, he was about to partake of the soul-embodied goodness of his prior acquaintance until he remembered how nasty black licorice was and disposed of it in one of the conveniently near-by soul obliterating devices that were stationed around the Carpeted Canyon for unclear reasons.

As was being spaketh, the band of travellers journeyed through the perilous trenches of static electricity that plagued the Canyon, meeting dangers beyond ye wildest thoughts. However, I really wanted a soda and missed a lot of their exploits. I did catch them dawning into the Forest of Crayons, however, so it wilt be resumed there.

"Ye gods, you're annoying," grunted Gnu as he trotted away, shaking his head.

Dried bones swung up from below, catching on the metal divide between the bare earth and the plush tapestry on the ground as the bulky, green warrior pulled himself from the foul locations with the memento from his battle with Ab-Omination. Bounding over his climb was the cobalt traveller, immediately dashing away as fast as he could before Gariland's cycle burst out from the ravine with flames streaking from behind and landed on Rex's previous location. Bimblesnaff's rocket staggered down from up high, low on fuel and weighed down by Kodiro, who snagged a scarf belt to its tail, and the countless door latches plundered from jumbo jet carriers, all long since crashed. As the grizzled veteran struggled to pull his girth over the ledge, a shadowed figure flashed two glinting discs from behind. He could feel its presence and only flailed harder to escape, but there was no hope. The others did not look back, for they knew he was lost to the foul thing they worked so tirelessly to flee.

"Not so fast, Dee," the nerd squealed, sticking to the mammoth man like a parasite, "you must answer meeeeee! Who would win in a fight: Commander William Riker wielding Thundarr's Sun Sword after being remade like Robo-Cop following the aftermath of a Romulan attack or Captain Kathryn Janeway trained by Orko the Magician and Dare Devil's Stick equipped with an Inhumanoid armor suit in a battle set on Infinite Earths?"

"Oh, the torment!" cried out the thought impervious fighter. "Not even the Garbage Can Lid of Salvation's Daughter could save me from this... what the hell am I even saying?" Whipping around the plucked spine of the stomach faced horror, he cracked it at the over-juiced fanboy only to have it get caught in his bowl cut.

"Cool! It's like a trophy claimed by the Predators after they predate their prey, only there isn't a skull on the end. Looks like the head was blown off by one of their shoulder cannons during-" And he went on like this.

"I almost feel sorry for him," sniffed Rex, bounding through the giant columns of colored wax.

"Why? Ya prolly get all dat crap da dork is sayin'," made light the lunatic as his slowing rocket sliced the enormous crayons in attempts to have the deadfall free him of his multicolored hitchhiker.

"Shh," silenced the amphibian king, "I don't want that thing to know such!"

"But he knows all," reminded the fiend. "He e'en knows who played da extras in da forty-third episode o' da X-Files."

"I know more than that, uneducated mortals," proclaimed Hadoleo, popping up in front of them by means that could be explained but won't be. "I know the members of their extended family listed in order of height and blood type, plus-" Salvation from the too nerdy ramblings came as a paper sheathed pillar crashed onto the dweeb. He did not shut up, but the thick wax worked well to muffle his speech as well as shatter his jaw, ribs, and other organs.

"Good aim, 'Snaff," complimented the frogman with a flick of his thumb, "you stopped him with a crayon tree that you weren't even near yet and left his wallet easily picked!"

"But," the green one choked, "I dinnae cut it... unlike the cheese!"

"Weak!" chuckled the vagrant, fanning his nose while forgetting the recent events until another colored timber, this one burnt sienna, crashed towards them. Scarcely jumping off in time, the goblin's glider was destroyed and violently erupted in a massive, large budget action movie like blast despite the lack of fuel it carried in the end of its flight. Rolling across the scribbled woodland floor, Bimblesnaff clashed into a flimsy bush of crayon sharpenings, scaring out a flock of poorly drawn birds. His hatted head poking out from the shavings, the whirling blades of Sweet Sawmill Sally were seen spinning, flinging the remains of their work into the air as a colored spectrum. Pulling out his hooked blade, he lunged at the female with malicious intent, intent you do not want to know about. Yeeee. As the capped vagabond thanked the albino hamster he thought was God for Ssssss singling out the other, a great shadow loomed over him. Reaching into his blue jacket, two inscribed guns were unholstered and were discharged straight above. Springing forward and anchoring on a tree with his webbed feet, he beheld the newly unrobed Robe with the bigger robe, scarred with several new holes in the shoulders. No flesh was marked as nothing could be distinguished with the mass of cloth and more shots would be needed. The missing bullets scattered through the scenery as the jet powered bike blazed through the mock trees and stray fire, eventually skidding and tipping on a slick of ice. Hopping off his vehicle to land perfectly on his feet, the out of control ride spun wildly, colliding into a crayon with the ensuing explosion stretching just to his face, close enough to not singe any skin or well styled hair but still light his beer cigarette. Suffering no loss with the motorcycle, just the dozen or so fans that tagged along in it who would be easily replaced, he cast his head to the left, perfectly lining up with the villain who sought his destruction. Glancing at the altered beast over the rims of his lowered shades, the icon of cool drew his smaire sabre with one hand as the other was engulfed in brilliant flame. Gnu Wuhn tightened his spike knuckled gloves as foggy freeze billowed from his breath with his nefarious laughs. Meanwhile, Syniarian was able to crawl out from beneath the felled crayon only to find himself confronted by this man. Having nothing to really do, the two debated on which was worse: comic book movies or video game movies. Flying through the air, having never been stopped from the crash of the winged rocket, Kodiro tumbled until he landed in a finely crafted gazebo. A gazebo... of doom! The support beams folded in as the bladed ceiling slammed down. Jack Phillips chortled triumphantly until he remember that ample room was provided for the half wall and hand rails. Back at the entrance, having finally escaped the horrors faced in the Carpeted Canyon, the green goliath found himself confronted by more fanboy banter upon entering the non-wooden woods and stampeded off only to trample the lizard man.

"Out of my way, thing of scales," roared the bearded brute. "The grains of the hour glass grow few. I must procure the Book of Exalted Drink Mixing before it can fall into the hands of my Uncle Nester who plans to use it to make his Christmas party seem less lame!"

"I'm a pink flamingo!" told the non-pink, non-flamingo. These two were destined enemies. The fighting raged on, and Gary could not have been more pleased. Pulling up a chair, he partook in observing what his hunger had prevented him from witnessing. Although, a bucket of popcorn did sound good...

But what about that guy? shouted Gary, hoping to halt the action long enough to merit a run to a concession stand.

"Who, me?" queried this man.

Nay! None careth for thou. I spaketh of yonder figure! All eyes turned to the figure standing upon a hacked wax timber, perfectly still with arms spread out. The head was at a slant with a vicious smile and only that. Long wisps curled out from the tips of gloves and toes of boots. A pleaded skirt hung in the air as short as the jagged pig tails sticking up from her head.

"Gary, you ass," scolded the sudden character. "My name is Trilmai, and you damn well know to fear it." The jaws of the Rumblos dropped to the ground in unison, particularly Bimblesnaff's as Sweet Sally had just lobbed it off with a grinding hand, but Hadoleo did not share the same reaction. Confused by the name, he looked it up in his Big Book of Ref. Paging through the listings, he only found a redirection to another entry. The blood was drained from his face and his lips quivered as he found that entry, and it was not from the usual cause of seeing a stunning female figure gracing some pages.

"Mistress of bane? Scourge of all Refers? Crazy Mai!" That dubbing rang true to his recollection, and the aforementioned blight unleashed a malicious chorus of laughter into the air.

"Yes, it is I," she told, "and you must know how-"

"They're gone," this man whispered to her.

"Say what?"

"During all that stuff," he explained, "they just kinda left. I mean, they'd be pretty stupid if they stayed. I guess we aren't much better for having not followed them, but... yeah, we're not better."

"Ultra-curses," she damned. "Well, it is no matter, for my ultimate plan of ultimate destiny will still be executed." Leaping straight into the air, she vanished. As "oohs" and "aahs" were sounded by the Legion of Less Important Rumblers, or LOLIRs as they would be known for added spite, Trilmai crashed back down in a mangled heap. "Okay, this time I should try jumping in a direction..."

Meanwhile, the man in gray dideth something unrelated to the story.

"Mmm, jerky!"

During this same time, the Rumblers hadeth adventures of unbelievable action and amazement in their escape from the wrath of Crazy Mai, the likes of which wilt never be seen again. Damn, I really have to choose which events to focus on better.

"I thought Crazy Mai was exiled from this fair land?" pondered the D Knight. "How is the Pistachio of Cashews suppose to be safeguarded now?"

"Ya're a moron," the lunatic tried to say, but, with a missing jaw, it came out more as, "Gggllllrrrrrrr," with a dangling tongue and an excess of blood.

"Such was just legends," told Ranarum. "She only banished herself-"

"Hot!" Bimblesnaff quickly interrupted, somehow coherently.

"-as she truly did no major offense. She is quite insane and delusional, with paranoia to match that of this green fiend." The slimy freak spewed forth some more gargled noises and made the frog shake his head. "No, she isn't a match for you in any other way."

"That's amazing," Leo commented, relieved of all his injuries unlike the maniac, much to his unintelligible protest. "Not even my book has that information. How do you know this?"

"Oh, you know," Rex said, looking forward with a wink, "I have my ways." His "ways" were the hallucinations of billowy sheep built of ground chuck manifested from a small tumor he had in his brain that he gave himself by driving it into his head with a pencil through his ear canal.

"I bet you do." With concern, they all looked over to see Crazy Mai standing there in their midst. Well, it was not exactly Crazy Mai. It was Crazy Mai with a mustache!

"What are yo doin' here?" the appalled fashion mage uproared. "We ain't had no ho fo' sho'."

"Why, what do you mean? I am a guy," the woman lied, "a guy who has been with you since you left that... er, bakery... who is named, um, Notmae. Yep, Notmae."

"Yo're crazy, Notmae, deadly crazy," declared Kodiro. "So crazy, I think we should just call you something like... Crazy Mae."

"Yeah, 'cuz she's obviously a she, first off," pointed out Gariland although it was not necessary.

"I'll say," simultaneously broke in the vagrant and the lunatic, the former clearer than the latter.

"And secondly," continued the awesome icon, "that she is-"

"What yo talkin' 'bout, jive monkey?" interrupted the rainbow colored wizard. "I don't know what yo mean wit' this gender confusion, but I'm solely not diggin' that mustache. Po-lease! Talk about '80s."

"... You're a moron," echoed the D Knight.

"Thank you!" agreed Gariland. "It's about time someone else noticed the error of his ways."

"What? He did something stupid recently?" the baffled green brute inquired. "I have no idea what he's talking about, do you Notmae, who is also a he?

“And while no one was looking, the lizard man snuck ahead and claimed the prize as his own!”

No…you really didn’t.

The UFOIFO shagged his shoulders. Kodiro gritted his teeth at the new fashion accessories. “I’ve had it with all deez bad rags, and my help has been unappreciated-” even Not Mae was snickering “but I won’t see the day when shoulder pad rugs become THE CAT’S MEOW!”

“What are you going to do, take them all on a detour to get their nails done?” the long forgotten egg friend chimed in. In a fit of prissy rage, the sorcerer of suave withdrew the ovaloid and chucked it into the liar’s face.

“I’m ok!” he screamed and writhed in pain.

Unbeknowneth to our group of protagonists, the band of LOLIRS had snuck ahead during the distraction of facial hair, gotten lost a couple of times, foundeth some change lying on the ground and laideth in wait to ambush the rumblers

“Wait really? Isn’t that them hiding on the other side of that foaming flow of turkey cuts? And why is it that turkey foams? And why does that still make me hungry?” Blithered on Hadeleo.

“It makes you hungry for victory, for that is none other than the Deli Dale” simply stated Gariland as the grand logo appeared, though not nearly as cool as it had just been stated, but very close.

“What’s going on over there? There’s some huge enchanted moving sign all the sudden! How are we supposed to ambush them when that’s in the way and they already know we’re here! How’d we even get on this side of the lake?” seethed Gnu Wuhn in a dramatic monologue. This man pointed over to Jack.

Robe spoke up “Suppose we should steal this large ferry like floatation device that reeks of maraschino?” Not wasting time the villains took the vessel.

“Mae! Distract them!” Yipped Gnu as the Rumblers were still very distracted to the shiny “Deli Dale” sparkles floating in midair.

“BEHOLD!” The barely costumed yelled out as she bent over and pulled down, her mustache. “I’m actually a girl!”

“GRRRLWHRRLLLG…” told Snaff as he rolled his eyes at the obvious.

Not to be outdone Kodiro ripped his top off and exposed his chest. “I’m actually A MAN!”

“We had our doubts at times, but my mind just went somewhere that it never wants to again” groaned Rex, along with a few others.

“I’m actually a cherry ferry!” exclaimed the reptobunny as he transformed, along with the cool unspellable mandatory transforming sounds, into a cherry ferry.

“Jehovah’s Witness is getting away with my grandmother!” Roared the Ironclad D as they all jumped aboard in hot pursuits, which they all took off(to reveal their normal garb) and threw at Kodiro for their utter suck.

“This looks like the buildup we’ve been waiting for!” mocked Phillips shortly before he was thrown overboard.

But what happenedeth next nobody expected!

"So this isn't real butter? I feel shocked," admitted Leo, adjusting his glasses while a frenzied battle waged around himself. The churned stick was used as an ineffective weapon by Gnu Wuhn, obviously with intentions other than inflicting damage.

"That's not what was unbelievable," angrily corrected Rex, pulling a wedgie on Phillips, "although I will confess it's quite amazing."

"I think the real clencher was the fact that his barge may be fruity, but it sho' ain't gay," the fashiomancer spoke regarding the ferry's demeanor.

"You'd know all about those," slithered Crazy Mai, matching sporadic bounds across the floating vessel with the other mentally deranged Rumbler.

"Well, I am a rather happy berry connoisseur," boasted the rainbow striped wizard.

"I meant clenchers."

"Innuendo aside, I dun t'ink dis be da real Merry Cherry Ferry," commented Bimblesnaff as a jumping punch missed pig-tailed female. To speak regularly, or as normally as he ever could, a makeshift jaw was compiled from folded Styrofoam trays provided by the the scene.

"What would give you this impression," questioned the frosted feral, grappling with the blazing icon.

"Well, fer stahtahs, da lyin' lizahd said it," adequately defended the maniac, "so ya know it gotta be a fabrication. Plus, we be standin' on his organs." True, the cherry float was nothing more than the UFOIFO inverting his body.

"This feels terrific," yelped the reptilian from inside his outside turned self.

"Ew, I think I'm standing on his colon," cringed Mai. "Why did I go with the heels today?"

"'Cuz" the frog king informed, sliding steplessly to her proximity, "they accentuate your-"

"As I was saying," Syniarian interrupted, "despite having not stated anything to continue from, if you will note, this isn't even the Deli Dale!" Scooping up a sample from the rapids they sailed through, he ranked the taste and looked up where the entry would fall in the oddly organized guide. "Yep, this is just the Butcher Brook, one of the many water ways that empties into the mighty, meaty river."

"But, there was a sign," whined the toad. "Signs can't lie, elsewise my ass took too many boots in high school for no reason!" Even now, one of the immature postings was taped to his back, a service that the D glady provided, thinking it was a quest provided by the Paperclip of All Knowing Lawn Clipping Salad's brother, who needed to be impressed before he could address the one he sought.

"Please, no one actually reads signs," dismissed the educated student. "They just look at how shiny they are or how many X's appear on them.

"It's true." The respondents were glad they all chimed in unison, masking their identities, although some brows were raised at the lady lumberjack.

"So... does anything of this give us a reason not to kill you?" questioned the arctic acolyte. The geek shrugged, and immediately had a whirling chainsaw tear out through the front of his torso.

"Hah! You fool," laughed the loser, wiping the splatters of his own blood from his glasses. "Nerds have no life! I'm already dead!" However, he then realized that if Sweet Sawmill Sally had her hand, even though razor sharp and killing, through him, it meant he was being touched by a woman and immediately fainted from the first time experience

"Hadoleo is dead!" reminded Rex Ranarum. "Quickly! Steal all his stuff!" the froggy freak was quick to say and quicker to act, more quickly than any could realize that the greasy geek had nothing the Rumblers would even want to touch, much as the rest of the world felt about Syniarian himself.

"Dude! Sally Sawmill still has her saw hands inside of your friend," an astonished Yugognu spat out. "If you have no decency -- which, obviously, you don't -- can't you at least be afraid of, y'know, being chopped up, too?"

"Pleas," gurgled the goblin, now choosing to move his flesh-and-blood jaw manually to make sure it stayed put, "she haf more ta feer fr'm my hands th'n I do fr'm herz." An attempt to make a kissy face at the more than disgusted cyber-assassin distracted the mean green fiend long enough for the loosened jaw to slip from his careful grasp and into the delicious gravy train they flowed over. Before the maniac's mandible could touch the savory stream, a loaf-fish leapt up and snatched the mouthpiece away, giving all but Bimblesnaff joy. The goblin swam after the pimento pilferer but quickly discovered how useful a mouth was when trying not to drown -- a task the fiend now frightfully failed.

"No!" lamented the D-Knight. "I have failed to keep the Jaw of Indeterminate Accent from the Water Fish of Stealing Jaws of Indeterminate Accents!"

"'Water fish'?" repeated Bad Pun Joe, unappreciative of how great the pun. "What? As opposed to an air fish?"

"Don't be an idiot," ironically stated Vince. "Fish can't live in the air. It was a space fish!"

"Why exactly can they live in space, you twit?" snapped the very evil and very hormonal Mai.

"Well, obviously there is no air in space," enlightened gallant green.

And whilst the Dark Knight, or the Donut Knight -- I ameth not too certain on which -- struggled to showeth the finer points of astral-aquatic life and loafs, the conniving king secretly showeth his true colors, which were sneaky instead of blue as most would cometh to expect. The amphibious anthromorph secretly lifted the treasured pack of the disemboweled Rumbler no one had even believed to be around still. Or at least he trieth hard to doeth with much secretude, and not secrete-tude which is by far more olfactorily offensive, as I stand two feet away on one inverted foot of the UFOIFO, blathering to all his dastardly doing-ings.

And lo! Whilst givething me a look dirtier than the Ghobling's mind at a playground, a most treasured book spilleth forth, opening to a random page. And lo more! The nerd riles, urged on by the need to bringeth up facts so hated by the rest!

"We... must... Desert!" scrounged up the student, rising to his feet and apparently life, despite his non-existent chest. "According to this book," he who sparkled with oils and blood recited, burying his glasses behind a cover titled Idiotic Iteration with a publication date of 2005, "after the Forest of Crayons, we must go through a Desert."

"Desert? Fo' mo', hobo 'Doleo," everyone wished Kodiro didn't say, but the sorcerer of style did just that. "Just whizzle kizzle of dizzle diddle the book say it would bizzle?" It was about now that Sally Sawmill removed the pantomancer's entire left side.

"It is the Desert of... What Art!" 'Leo directly quoted.

"Aw, no," protested the paddock. "We aren't doing that again. Abstract location names never work. Remember the Dumping Ground of Imperfect Squares? We got lost in that hellhole for months, and hellholes are so much worse than regular holes."

"I'll say. Have you ever tried-"

"No," Rex replied to -- obviously -- Kodiro. "I don't know what you were gonna say, I don't wanna know what you were gonna say, but I do know that the answer is still 'no.'"

"Wellzle," pondered the one-lunged Kodiro, who continued to agonize Rumblers and quasi-Rumblers alike by using his man-purse as a surrogate lung. The group once ridiculed the feminine carrier, but now they realized that they just plain hated it. "If da cute 'n' dreamy announcha wuz da one dat first said where we hadda go, can't he jist change up his denom?"

I'll pretendeth that I didn't hear most of thy banter and that I understood the rest of it. Ye just think I haveth the magickal ability to changeth whatever the terrains art becauseth I art the narrartor? It doth noth worketh like thath!

"... We'll give you a dollar... and a pony."

Thus, the group venturethed into the Desert of Booze and Busty Women and Busty Women Made Out of Booze! And thus, Kodiro's two halves melted.

"Waitaminute!" the geek interrupted once more to ruin everyone's celebration over the busty women and melted Kodiro. "If it is a desert of all that stuff, shouldn't it lack those things?"

"Gah!" sputtered the tadpole, "don't say that! Do you want us to kill you? Er, Sally to kill you?... again?"

Hmmm, he hath a weak point there, and since this is probably up to me, too, I shall concur! Because I am a bastard! I laugheth maniacally -- hahahahahaha! -- as I dangleth an apple spice cupcake over the frog man's head, just beyond his reach, and close to Sally so she must be subjecteth to his vile presence!

"Egads! It's terrible!" rued the Robe, hiding his already hidden face behind his billowy sleeve. "The beer and busty women are gone, and the women that are left are made of flesh! What man would want them now?"

"And how come none of the women turned into men?" Kodiro didn't have a chance to ask since he was currently in a puddle.

"Well, it's not like we have to go there," huffed the exhausted Rex Ranarum after failing to procure the snack cake. "The Butcher Brook should take us straight into the Deli Dale, and then I promise we can resume trying to kill each other." A cheery pop protruded from most of the mortal allies and enemies, but the puddle formerly known as Kodiro reformed for an instant, adorned in a fluorescent, argyle jumpsuit over his tie-flannel-dye coat, to argue on behalf of NWG.

"Da main mop man sed we gotta go, and what we is gonna do is go!" As the veterans were accustomed, the wardrobe wizard dropped a bomb from an extra-dimensional pocket, for some reason believing that the resulting explosion would force the group into the desert.

"Don't worry! I have an idea!" the robed Robe announced, imploding upon himself and vanishing into thin air. The hulk continued looking on well after the cloaked man had disappeared.

"Don't worry. He'll be coming back to save us very soon."

"Vinny! Quickly! The crab army at the bottom of the river is mounting a revolt against... uh, something stupid thing you would say!" warned the toad, freeing the dishonest raft of the massive mountain of stupidity. "Gariland, can your motorcycle transform into a boat and get us outta here?"

"A boat? That's lame," schooled the avatar of awesome. "Nothing cool is allowed to transform into boats, scooters, unicycles, or bicycles."

"What sort of motorcycle would transform into a bicycle?"

"An uncool one."

"Fair enough, but you aren't even on your motorcycle right now," reminded the king. "It blew up a while ago. You are just sitting on top of a big rock." Yet somehow he made it cool. "If we can drop a li'l more weight -- y'know, like that rock -- we'll be able to outrun the explosion, plus all the lady rafts will be into this uncherry ferry."

"No way, man. I can't use my legs. Legs are for suckas." Sally Sawmill perked up for a moment. "Using legs, shorty."

"I guess there is no other choice but for someone to plier their craft at disarming a bombsaw," Jack Phillips spoke, still proud of his idiotic punning attempts.

"I am so glad that you are gonna be dying soon," the fire-branded cyclist rubbed in.

"Stop fooling around, youse guys! And stop treating me like I'm an object!" Mai angrily stepped in, much to everyone's confusion as they had recently forgotten that she even existed. "This is a very complex and intricate device." All looked down to the black sphere with a shrinking wick burning at the top. "We are going to need someone with delicate precision to disarm it..."

One stupid decision later, Sssss bloweth herself to smithereens before she could anyone else, 'though the rest were strewn across the banks for a great distance. Aye, 'twas the greatest bomb Kodiro droppeth since announcing and proving he was a man. Not much of one, but one nonethesorta.

Long since swum ashore and nearly drowned in good gravy, the goblin discovereth the mind-boggling Gnu Wuhn and doomed Jack Phillips on the sandy coast. Immediately, the fiend set to removing the handyman's jaw to replace his own.

"Ow! Ow! Aww, why won't you spare me the pain and just eat me already, Gnu?" questioned the most hated character in the story. "Then you would get all of my powers, like... um... sucking! You can always suck more!"

"I can; you can't," clarified the icy-cloaked-coated-bald-gloved-lupine mystery. "Besides, why would I subject myself to that kind of torture? There are plenty of other things to eat around here that won't give me a case of the sucks." It was then that a soul-obliterating device caught his sharp eyes. "Meh, beats that pile of glass next to it. Of course, I am not even hungry, so I shouldn't eat either... but will!"

"That's what I keep tellin' her!" vocalized Bimblensaff with his freshly stolen mouthpiece.

"I am guessing you were supposed to say that before you had a jaw, huh?" brought down the arctic warrior between bites. Suddenly, his bald head spun and he fell to his kneepads, grasping his stomach in pain. But it was no longer his stomach, but a face!

"Bwa-hahahaha!" cackled the newly emerged visage, which for some reason grew outside of Wuhn's shirt. "I am now Gnur Wuhn!"

"Achem! Becoming part Jack Phillips is now comparatively better!" And with a swift bite of what remained of the handyman's head, all traces of Ab-Omination were erased from the universe once more. Instead, that crappy hardhat appeared on the wolf's head, and his colors brightened to a construction-friendly tone. As fortold, he finally became Knur Wuhn, and without any minor characters left to eat, it looks as though he is stuck this way.

"Ew, I feel so dirty. I need someone to make me look comparatively better."

Just then, Hadoleo plummeteth from the heavens and onto the Bimblesnaff's newly fixed head.

"Thank you!"

Don't mention it. Just remember to buyeth my new calendar and to keepeth Kodiro away fro' it. Seriously.

Hey, I wonder how the others are doingeth. Methinks someone might have hookethed up?

"Stop stalking me!" accused Crazy Mai, racing across the Desert Of, which was now its official name.

"But, you're the one chasing me!" Rex rationalized. "Although it does sound like something I would do." The king looked to his brother-in-scales for aide. "Hey, Ufoifo," acronymized the frog, "a little help? Both you and Mai are enemies of truth and simple fact."

"I don't have to splay here and listen to these wild allegations!" huffed the inverted vertibrate as he inflated his lungs and attempted to float his body to the goal.

"Yes, everything is going according to plan," conspired the Robe aloud. "Soon, the world will be destroyed."

Art thou not attempting to obtain yonder Legendairy?

"Oh, right. That's part of the world, isn't it? Hey freak, do ya think you can teleport me straight to the Deli Dale?"

Could but shan't! Instead, let us see what the other characters are doing! Bad Pun Joe is-

"No one cares about Bad Pun Joe!" boomed the shrouded black abyss. "Isn't he dead yet?"

Fine, then we shall joineth the knight, the flaming Rumbler of non-Kodiro quality, and the melty Kodiro, already in progress.

"Get it off! Get it off!" Gariland roared, launching fireballs at his enemy from outerspace.

"Space fish! I toldja!

It would seemeth that ye D-Knight hath got one right at long last. And just whence did cometh yonder space fish? Why, from...


... where art the title screen for Ye Space Fish Adventures? What? No more side plots? Very well.

"Who is he even talking to?" the perplexed paddock posed to the other Rumblers he now strove to overtake. "That guy is pretty crazy."

"Boy howdy!" announced the delusional Spirit of Rumblo.

Antics aside, all wert now locked in mortal race-bat across the Desert Of, which-

"Desert of Comma?" Hadoleo interrupted the omnipresent announcer. "I thought it was officially renamed the Desert Of?"

What? No, thou foolish fooleries! It is call-

"Desert of Question Mark?" chimed in the grizzled green goliath. "That is entirely not the name of the goal which we seek!"

Stupid, stupid peopleth! Stop listeneth to my punctuation, knaves! Thou art getting worse than that weird little man Kodiro!!!!

"Hey, kiddies!" 'Leo spoke up, addressing some invisible audience. "An exclamation point is also referred to as a 'bang' in technical and computer terminology! And that is the one joke we'll explain to you throughout the entire Rumbl-O-Rama! Hope you enjoyed it!"

"I know I did, fo' sho'!" the wardrobe wizard unfortunately admitted with a finger poking the corner of his mouth, and then sliding inside, and then another finger... ewww....

Fleeing to the goal and from the sorcerer of styles, all living Rumblers -- good, bad, and detested -- were stoppethed when a very large-type font plummeteth from the sky, reading:

"Canceled?!" spurted the vile Mai. "But then how shall I ever exact my revenge? Revenge for events which I was originally the cause?"

"What? Rumbl-O-Rama cannot die!" protested Ufoifo. Rex looked back two pages and back to the reptile, seemingly confirming otherwise.

"I don't know if it can die, but it has been in a zombie-like state for a while now -- a zombie like those wacky walking corpses in Redead, the hilarious sci-fi romp! What happens when the only thing stopping flying saucers and their reanimated army is a fat slacker and his friends? Hilarity! That's what! And now back to your regularly scheduled insanity," Bimblesnaff finally finished in an uncharacteristic announcer voice. "Hey, this new jaw rocks! And that twit Gary finally has a mouth," the lunatic explained, waving a dirty, wrapped claw to the Nary Wary one, who only had half a head remaining.

Bleedin' Hole Gary, different than the one ye rainbow mage once knew -- often -- continued to breaketh the bad news, entirely unimpedeth by not having no mouth. Rather than be canceledeth, this Rumblo shall go on hiatus until proper remedy madeth for ye low viewership.

"What?" Hadoleo fought back in the most threatening but still hilarious voice he could muster. "You can't put the Rumblo on hiatus, either!" Everyone just stood around awkwardly, just looking at one another, which is apparently what they had been doing for the last ten months.

No needeth! The Rumblo, or xRxOxRx as it is now renamed, hath bean retooled and is bland and predictable enough for the common moron to enjoy! Someone cheereth this announcement. Can you guess who?

"It was me!" proudly piped-up the student.

Fantastic. Well, instead of journeying across Ref -- where nobody lives -- you shalt now travel to Apartment in New York City, which apparently is the only place which exists in the entire world-ball! Prepare for thou repackaging in this hip and witty new backdrop which can be enjoyethed all people of fifth-grade reading levels -- which apparently is still too high for most of the masses!

A speaking frog-man is seen as blasphemous by a single crazy individual in Alabama who doth not even own a TV. Henceforth, you, Rex Ranarum, shall be a graphic from some eighties video game that children doth not recognize, hath never played, but still clamor for all the more!

And Vincent, thou antics of constantly spewing forth nonsensical gibberish from your wild, grizzly beard is obviously a crude parody of a very particular, mentally-unfortunate group. And due to her complaints, you are no longer allowed to mock Mai in this manner. Instead, we hath a wheel labeled with a variety of foodal elements. Whenever we should calleth on you to spake, simply spin the wheel and recite whatever foodstuff is pointed to. It sure as Hel isn't comedy, but it is random, and why wasteth effort developing real, well-thought humor when morons will laugh at a disembodied... "ham sammich."

Kodiro, stop laughing.

Andeth Bimblesnaff, you art far too impossible to fix and simply shall be stung with this Destiny Venom to erase any trace of your existence from forever!

"Ooo! I want ta git some new fly fash-ins, too!" jived the striped summoner. "Do me! Do me! Do me! Do me! Do me, little mop-man!" he unnecessarily repeated when everyone got the joke very early on.

"Oh, Kodiro, you are so straight!" stated the serpent-tongued sociopath.

"Hey, what happened to Gariland?" wondered all living and inanimate objects in the world at all times, including right now.

The Allcool one hath received his own spin-off as well as a nation of eager subjects! That mattereth not, however, as your retooled piece o' crap hath already been canceled before it even had a chance! Thank you very much, major television networks! Gariland's show, on the other hand, becameth the longest running series -- or story, I am not really sure what we are trying to go for here -- in all history, despite only existing since the beginning of this paragraph! With Gariland, all is possible -- except for that, Kodiro!

Instead, letteth the Rumblo redebut as one of the most boring and therefore popular devices that Hadoleo loves -- the tournament fighter!

"No, even I'm not gay for anime enough to think those are cool."

"Yowee! A tournament fighter?" the design diviner was overjoyed, or -- one could say -- overgayed. No one could wait to fight the thaumaturgist of threads, so they didn't. He was swiftly beaten into a bloody lump for being a loser anime fanboy. There were other reasons they could have picked, but that was the one they went with.

"What?" hissed the scaly newcomer, and despite being a question, he still managed to make it a lie. "Fighting each other in a Rumbl-O-Rama instead of working together? That's not what we're supposed to do!" The student abroad, in his whiny little-kid butt-into-ism (no more Kodiro jokes since he is currently a bloody, broken pile), removed his Ref Field Guide to counter his little opponent's claim.

But search as he may, the nerd could not find any evidence that battle had ever taken place in an Rumbl-O-Rama before.

"I know it is supposed to be in here!" 'Leo squealed. "We're supposed to be in competition!"

"Sure we are," laughed off Crazy Mai.

"Wait, why would you say that?" questioned the teenage ball of grease and social ineptitude. "You especially want to fight and kill Mint Man. In fact, he just wrote your name 'Crazy Mai' in the previous paragraph!"

"Sssssshhhhut up," hushed the azure amphibian. "Don't ruin my chances."

"But you hate her!" the frustrated and for some reason recently focused on student raged on. "Remember? All those stupid rants and lies and infiltrating and her persistent efforts destroy you?"

The king just stared onward blankly, blinked, and shrugged off the words. "Meh, I'd still hit that."

Well, you'll have to, for she shalleth be your opponent in the Rumbl-O-Rumble! Let the enormous but probably hastily done battle sequence commenceth!

"Aww, I have to fight Bimblesnaff?" complained the computer-enthusiast. "How is this fair? Wasn't I just eviscerated a bit ago?"

"Twice!" the mad man interjected.

"What? No I-" the student began, but then he realized just what Bogg had meant. It was difficult not to know as the fiend's hook blade had just torn through the scrawny student, who was still tortured with his unlife.

And in the next arena, the monstrous D-Knight loometh over the diminutive reptoid, who is not without a cunning of his own. The mysterious robe floateth in, ready to battle against two opponents to prove his superiority.

"Something stupid!"

"I lie a lot!"

"I am wearing yet... another robe!"

This is not a summary. Aye, this actually did take place in their contest, and is in fact the only thing which transpired between these three very well-developed and cared-about characters.

In a much cooler place, both in temperature and in the measurable units which SI has just unanimously agreed to name the Gariland, the frosty Phillothor known as Knur Wuhn squareth off against his cool antipode.

"Hmm, to gain Garilands coolness," lowly growled the bald, blue lupine loser, "I shall have to eat him!"

"Missin' me now, aren'tcha?" Kodiro's pile gurgled.

"Man, what wack sheezy did I eatzy?" Kodiro wondered, looking down at his pile. "Oh, right," remembered the mage, "I didn't!"

Quickly moving on before I maketh vomitous use of my new head-hole, we come to the best of the match-ups, Sweet Sally Sawmill versus... Nary Wary Gary! In a Tickles-and-Pillows Fight! Ha-ha! The other Rumblers jeer my omnipotent decision to placeth myself in the best of matches, but 'tis the reward I deserve for narrating way too much! Of course, I should hath thought this out a little more, and Ssssss's hands will make tickling much less fun... and much more bloody... and me much less capacitated..... and un-decapitated. Whaddayaknow? I can continue to spaketh without a neck!

The final two combatants stood frozen on opposite ends of the wasted expanse. The Tyrant of Toads clasped his heavy warspear tight in his flippered fingers. The angrily and insanely mad Mai looked on from behind her wind-whipped pig tails, armed only with an electric grasp and no grasp on reality. It was truly to be a battle for the ages, the two greatest foes in the history of Ref meeting, face to face, without petty guises, without retreat. One of the Rumblers would soon meet with a harsh reality, and each was convinced it would be their opponent.

The Rex Ranarum made the first move, bounding across the dune and holding his wicked weapon high. Mai made the dodge, but as always misjudged the frog's actions. He cast down his spear, driving its point into the sands before her, catching the demented spy before she could stop. His tongue flew forth from his enormous gullet, finding his handle instead of her. Trilmai released a full charge from her gauntlets into the polearm, traversing the tadpole's tongue and forcing him skyward. The king recovered his senses -- something Mai could never do -- and flipped in midair, withdrawing his trusty six shooters. Both barrels quickly emptied, finding non-lethal marks on the former Reffer's blocking boots and gloves. The malfunctioning armor began to spew sparks, but like her logic, Mai refused to admit anything was wrong despite the obvious. She made one final mad dash to the frog, only to catch a round squarely in the head. As thick as it was, the impact still knocked his nemesis from her feet. Her eyes opened, staring down a barrel inscribed with the word "Nepenthe."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she coughed out, with no other option left.

"You really don't get it," the blue clad vagrant scoffed. "What does it mean to defeat you here? In a battle I control? That doesn't solve anything; I would gain no revenge. Nay, I can do worse. Far worse than you'll ever be able to live down." A sly, slimy smile crept across his scaly lips.

"Wh-what do you mean?" fear filled Trilmai's voice. He gave no answer but a maniacal cackle, never lifting his empty stare from her prone body.

"Ha! Ya wrote 'I'm a big stupid face' on her in permanent marker!" wailed fellow winner Bimblesnaff. "And it's on her face! Classic!"

"Yeah, she'll never live that down," Ufoifo wanted to contribute. It, too, stood with the tournament's champions.

"Wait, how did you win?"

It didn't win. Few of the fights hath any real conclusion; most were just solveth with a coin flip. Just as well!

And so, the victors were allowed to proceed to the Deli Dale, whose gate shone on the distant horizon. And the losers? Whatever happened to them? Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. In fact, the place where they were dumpethed is actually slightly closer to the Deli Dale than the winners' circle!

Huh, that seems unfair. Better hurry up, guys.

"Man, this is all getting to be too much," complained Rex. "I need some soft serve."

"From where exactly?" wondered the nerd, back in focus.

"That machine," the frog king pointed out. "It's been following us."

"Since page two?" Ignoring the flaw to common sense, the blue clad vagrant went to the creamy treat dispenser to select a flavor. Passing over the boring vanilla and chocolate, he came upon their amalgam.

"Mmm, twist is god," drooled the amphibi-man. The other nodded in contemplation.

"It is god," the student agreed. "God from out the machine?!" His realization came too late. With dramatic slowness, he sluggishly ran to the ice milk injector to stop the process, but it was too late. The lever crashed down with deafening volume against a silent backdrop as an almighty force was released from within.


"Oh, it really was just ice cream," he announced in crushed hope.

"Well, yeah," the cyan skinned Rumbler shrugged. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know," the bespeckled one meekly admitted. "Some sorta big, cheap, cop-out to allow this extended tale to finally be laid to rest."

"Why would we need that? We're already at the Deli Dale. So is everyone else, and there's the Merry Cherry Ferry, which they're boarding."

"Really? Huh." Syrian was flabbergasted. "When did all that come about?"

"When you spent forever doing that slow motion run over here," informed the frog man. "What was with that?"

"Drama, suspense," Hadoleo mustered excuses, "stupidity."

"Good enough for me," the toad tyrant passed off. Chomping down on the remainder of his cone, he shoved down his opponent as he galloped off to gain lead on at least one foe, laughing maniacally until his terrible brain freeze left him writhing on the ground. All were there for the final sprint to the end: Rumblers, Lolirs, and some stupid side characters that were better off forgott-


The nog doth flowed that night, and many thoughts perished in the tide. Few could recalleth the events from that tremendous moment, and what scraps wert pieced heldeth questionable truth. From the lies and boasts, no token served as proof of whom left the Deli Dale a victor of the Rumblo, so only word served to lay claim. Beholdeth now the tales of the End of Ends...

D is for inDecision.

"The Purple of Clam is within my grasp," snarled the grizzled brute, paddling the Merry Cherry Ferry towards the goal faster with his own broad hands. The giant had beat off his competition with ease due to his size advantage, neither to be taken in the sense of Kodiro's liking. The Sharp Cheddar Legendary could be tasted on his aged tongue, its bold flavor embedded into his beard. The years lost and misspent times of agony seemed washed away by the glorious scent. With a wild swing of the trunks he called arms, the stowaways on the vessel were batted off, toppling into the fjord like heads from guillotine. Impatient for a longer wait, the green sentinel burst forth with a mighty bound, shattering the flimsy roofing and floor alike of the mythical ship like graham cracker, which it was. The mystical ancients had poor choices for building materials back then. The boat sank beneath the enchanted water way, regaled for its ability to make reduced fat food goods taste as though they were fat free food stuffs, as the thick boots of Vincent thundered upon the isolated isle within the blue. Shrouding mists parted to reveal the divine dairy, glowing miraculously as if under the beaming of a 100 watt bulb, but, lo, the lamp only had wattage of 65! Truly supernatural!

"At last, the Monkey Blenders will no longer be set on double sided," uttered the giant, for some reason. Why hasn't he caught on to the situation yet? I mean, the cheese is right in front of him! Anyway, a meaty mitt stretched out to receive the splendor of the fruity ferry. His fingers were so close to the goal, but then they stopped. If they had only fallen downward, they would have taken ownership of the dream product, but they recoiled. His muscled arms moved to his flanks, still. "I swore to capture the Irish Kiwi of the Mayans," stated the worn Rumbler, "and I shall." Despite his claims, he took no action. "I will do this, so I have spoken." The Legendairy sat, still undevoured. It itself was growing concerned of the mega man, and it lacked sentient thought. That worry would soon be over for-

"Achem!" In a flash, the top of the pedestal was covered with the mandibles of the sickly fiend. Sliding his head off from the top, his pointed teeth scraping lines into the stone fixture, no trace of the cheddar was left behind. "Mmm, now dat's sharp," declared Bimblesnaff. "Da most sharp cheddah I've evah tasted. An' not extra sharp, eithah. Just sharp sharp. Da truest it could be."

"I," spoke the defeated man, lifting a defiant finger to the sky, "shall claim the Illuminated Slippers of Headgear, for I-" Keeling over, Bogg tore his crooked blade from out the victim's torso, wiping off the blood on its own funeral garb.

"If you already had the cheese," questioned Rex, popping up from no where as well, "did you really have to stab him?"

"He desahved it," rationed the lunatic coldly, "an' worse."


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