"What are we going to do? What are we going to do??" said Stumpy in a panic.
Snarky punched him on the arm.
"Ow! Why'd ya do that?" cried Stumpy.
"Sorry, just reflex," replied Snarky. He patted Stumpy's arm.
Malarkey looked at the rest of the group. "Well, guys, we're in a pickle. The question remains: how do we get out of the jar?"
Tinky looked confused. "I never know what you're talking about."
Malarkey waved his arms around. "We're clearly doomed in several ways unless we get out of this trap! How do we escape? Any ideas?"
Snarky raised his hand. "I say we grab Stumpy and use him as a battering ram and smash that door down!"
Everyone---except Stumpy---nodded.
"Say, fellas, I don't think that's a very goo--"
He didn't finish due to him being grabbed and used as a battering ram on the door. The plan worked surprisingly well due to two factors. One, Stumpy's head was astonishingly hard, and two, the door wasn't. It crumpled like aluminum foil. They exited the room of doom, passing the door, which was in agonized pieces, ripped and shredded and torn and beaten. It seemed to look at them pleadingly as they avoided the jagged edges. Their reflections rippled across the uneven surfaces, a distorted mockery of its plight. Eventually, the light faded and it was no more.
"Boy, what a weird door," muttered Stumpy.
Their footsteps echoed in the metal hallways of the submarine as they ran, trying to find some way out. The boat seemed empty. Various objects were strewn around on the floor, so they had to dodge danger as they ran. Nothing made any sense to our intrepid band. All the bits looked like pieces of alien machinery, with unknown functions and design. Snarky pocketed a few of the pieces, because you never know what you'll need in the future.
They looked into every room they passed, but they were all packed with junk and didn't look like exits at all.
"You know," said Snarky, "I'm beginning to think nothing is as it seems. I mean, except for the two rooms we were in, the rest of this barge looks like a garbage dump. I don't think Della and those other guys are who they say they are, and I don't think this submarine is a submarine. I mean, some of these pieces I picked up just say things like 'haha' and 'whoops' on the back. In fact, I think this wall isn't a wall!" As he said that, he veered into the wall and punched it. The force of his blow ripped a hole into the wall and he fell into a room. It was full of thankfully soft toys to cushion his fall.
"Uh, I guess this is a sub." He looked embarrassed. He got up and ran after his companions.
After a few minutes and a lot of wrong attempts, they found a door that said, in big neon letters, 'EXIT'.
"I think this is the way out!" exclaimed Stumpy, jumping out of the way of Snarky's punch.
It was Tinky who was the one who opened the door, which swung wide with a loud screech, revealing a dock.
"So I guess this is it, that town Della was talking about. Doesn't look like much." Malarkey looked thoughtful. "Whaddya say, gang? Shall we go?"
Without any discussion, they all ran out of the submarine and into the town. Malarkey was right: it wasn't anything special. In fact, it looked half finished, like a movie set. Everything was ramshackle, especially the shacks. Nails stuck out of walls, predators waiting for prey. The streets were curiously uneven, as if they were randomly placed. The dominant colour was brown, with some grey splashed in to make it festive. The dwellings, most of which would have to be extensively renovated to achieve the status of hovel, leaned drunkenly against each other.
"See? I told you. None of this is real!" said Snarky in a loud voice.
A head poked out of the nearest window. "Not real? My magnificent mansion? That is an insult, sir!" said the voice, which belonged to a small person of indeterminate species.
"We just thought that nobody lived here," said Snarky.
The small person, with a wild mane of dirty, tangled hair, and clothing to match, looked both offended and amused. "Oh, I am very sorry, your majesty, for not rolling out the red carpet to you and your exalted retinue! We've been oh so busy with, you know, living life and all that. I mean, it's tough, you know, what with all the crazy tourists and their stupid treasure maps gallivanting around our town like it's made of cake and today's their birthday! I barely have time to do my hair." The person ruffled their hair like it was a do, and not a don't.
"Pardon our rudeness, kind sir or madam," said Malarkey. "We've recently been kidnapped by some of those crazed tourists, and have just escaped this here submarine, which has a time bomb---"
"Bomb!" yelled everyone. Just then, the bomb went off, but instead of a town-destroying explosion, the only thing that happened was that a small purple cloud of smoke appeared above the submarine, a banner popped up that said 'Happy Anniversary', and a sound very much like a depressed trombone was heard faintly.
"Oh, good!" said the disheveled townsperson. "You remembered my anniversary! Now, if I could only remember what it is..."
The person looked squarely at Malarkey and glared. "Wait, sir or madam? Can't you tell? I am Crackcut Fragga, if you don't mind. I am this town's leading lady and historian. Pardon my attire, my gowns are at the drycleaner." She flounced a little.
"Where is everybody else?" asked Snarky.
"Oh, they're all at some town meeting, deciding what to finally do about this treasure map madness," said Crackcut. "I would be there, but I had a bout of indigestion. Meetings make me gassy." With that, she let out a small, ladylike fart. Everyone turned green around the gills except Stumpy, who got a dreamy look in his eyes.
"We wouldn't mind going to this meeting," said Malarkey. "We've been buffeted around too much. We all have places we want to go, and it doesn't include being hijacked by crazoids. Would you take us there?"
Crackcut considered the request. "Oh, okay, I guess I could take you there. There was something I wanted to bring up anyway. They can all leave if they don't like the way I smell!" She started walking away and they all followed her.
It was only a short walk to the town hall, but in that time they saw more of the town than they wanted. It really looked like a vicious storm had attacked it, but Crackcut assured them that wasn't so, and in fact they had spruced it up recently. Everything looked so ominous and dangerous, like the houses themselves were going to attack them. Nothing was more than one storey, and even then they looked ready to collapse. Small strange-looking animals scurried across the streets, hissing at them. The animals had two or three heads each, and the heads hissed at each other when they weren't hissing at everything else. Fur covered their bodies, but unevenly, as if they had gotten a disease and then the disease fled in disgust. Crackcut kicked one that had gotten too close. It flew away with an enraged squeak.
"Oh, here we are," she said, pointing to a building. "Town hall." It looked exactly like all the other buildings, except that it was full of people, some of whom were outside, as it was too full inside. She pushed her way in the crowd, farting with each step. Even though everyone looked like they smelled like the dead, they parted for her. One man's head fell off, but his hands picked it up and put it back, although upside down. "Make way! Make way! Very important visitors comin' through!"
Everyone looked at the newcomers.
One young woman looked at them and said, "They don't look important to me! They look like more of those treasure mappers!" She spat on the ground.
"Hush, child!" said Crackcut. "They ain't no treasure mappers. They have some important news to tell us."
Our foursome looked at each other worriedly.
Stumpy spoke first. "We don't have any---" he said before punches from the other three stopped him. Tinky, being very small, had to punch him on the knee, which caused him to stumble. Good thing he had such huge feet, or he would have fallen.
By this time, they had reached the middle of the room. There was a raised stage, and a table with six chairs. Only five chairs were occupied, until Crackcut climbed onstage and sat down.
None of the other five on stage were familiar to the gang, except to Snarky and Malarkey, who stared. They looked at each other, then back at the stage. They spoke at the same time.
"Mom and dad?"
...to be continued.
