It was early the next morning when Edvard Floom heard a quiet crash coming from his kitchen.

Though it was unusual, Edvard didn’t see any reason to leap to attention. He had left the window open, and it was likely Mrs. Ginny’s fat yellow tabby cat Walter climbing in again to search for fresh morsels. Though annoying, he didn’t find the creature very bothersome and often fed it leftovers as he quite liked the small amount of company the beast offered. Edvard had just finished breakfast, and his post-meal tea sat steaming in a mug on the arm of his chair as he relaxed, sifting through The Good Word--the neighborhood newsletter that arrived every morning.

It wasn’t until he heard a louder crash that he began to grow curious.

“Walter!” Edvard called, peeking around the corner of the second page. “Pipe down in there, Walter! I’ll drum up some nips in a bit. Just got to finish my reading and tea.”

Feeling that the issue was sorted, Edvard went back to his paper. He spent a moment perusing the Daily Corkboard and grabbed his mug, drawing the ceramic to his lips just as a third crash--this one the loudest yet--echoed from the kitchen and caused him to spill hot tea all over the newsletter.

“Oh, that burns it!”

Edvard set his cup back down, wicked away the moisture from his swiftly-staining leaflet and stood.

“Walter!” He called, stomping out of his drawing room and into the cramped hallway. Usually, it was at this point that he heard an apologetic mew from the tabby, but, hearing none, he began to get concerned. He hoped that the feline had not gotten stuck in his flour bin again. Last time it had taken ages to clean up, and he’d already spent a goodly portion of yesterday cleaning up the garden from the unfortunate incident with Mr. Atu’s sky rubbish.

Just thinking about the interaction was treachery of the highest order to his own sensibilities. He’d resolved to mend the damage and never give the ordeal another thought, yet here he was, lamenting like some irresponsible young buck in the prime of his life. That just wouldn’t do. He banished the feelings away and focused on the task at hand. As he rounded the corner into the kitchen, he expected it would be another day of mopping up a mess from the rambunctious Walter while he grumbled away. Though, in all honesty, he really was fond of that blasted pet.

However, what Edvard Floom was not expecting was to find several extraplanar individuals sitting in the broken remains of his pantry cabinet.

A young woman with a rosy complexion and what appeared to be a deformed child and a very large dog stared back at him, looking flummoxed beyond all manner of respectable measure. The woman had bits of dried kiwi in her hair and was resting her head on an overturned bowl that had once contained grapes. Edvard stared.

“Are you fruit thieves!?” He demanded, waving his newsletter about threateningly. “I’ve had just about enough rapscallions mucking about my property to last me eleven lifetimes! And look what you’ve done to my pantry! Oh, this just won’t do!”

Edvard was completely unaware that the three figures he’d labeled as grocery bandits were in fact a reincarnated god and her two Archangels. The form he believed to be a misshapen toddler stood up, wiggling its strange arms and squeaked at him.

“This is OUR castle now, by right of conquest! We bested your powerful little warriors and command full control!”

Edvard stared at the little creature perplexed. He looked to the woman for clarification. She smiled sheepishly, and patted the small figure until it calmed down. Then he stood, brushing kiwi out of her hair.

“Sorry, Odd is talking about the grapes.”

She looked around at the chaos she’d caused and her rosy face turned even more red.

“Also, apologies for the mess. We didn’t mean to crash land here, we just--”

Edvard swatted her on the top of the head with his paper, which he had rolled up. The woman looked surprised, but unhurt. Truly, Edvard had only meant to scare her into retreating, not assail her, but he suddenly became worried that he’d done more serious damage and felt bad. The move, however, turned out to be quite the mistake as the large dog and the child suddenly launched themselves forward angrily, taking point between Edvard and the woman. The hound, Edvard realized, did not look like a typical breed and in fact was a dark red and whistling very deep in his general direction.

“Now, don’t be siccing either of these beasts on me, lass,” Edvard warned. “You’ve come into my house, and it’s obscenely improper to turn on the host of the home. I’ll not stand for it.”

Edvard brandished his rolled up newsletter again but took a tentative step back.

“It’s okay, Meat. Odd. I think he’s friendly.”

The two protectors stood still and intimidating for another few beats before backing up, allowing the woman to step forward.

“What type of dog is that?” Edvard asked, looking nervously between the seafoam-haired girl and her companion.

“Oh, he’s not a dog,” she said with a big smile. “He’s an Archangel.”

“Is that a kind of horse?” Edvard supposed it could be a pony. My, it was big, wasn’t it? He couldn’t be sure, but he thought that the look of it was off--as if it were made out of light. That would be preposterous though! Wait, were those… wings?

“No, silly,” the woman said. “It’s an Archangel. I’m Snooze.”

She held her hand out.

“Pleased to meet you.”

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Edvard was never one to abandon good manners, even if those manners were currently being tested to their limits. He cautiously leaned forward, grasping Snooze’s hand in his own and gave a vigorous pump before returning to his original spot.

“Floom. Edvard Floom.”

“Oh shoot!” The woman suddenly exclaimed, and Edvard brandished the newsletter high in defense. But she wasn’t even looking at him now.

“I should have introduced myself as ‘Ginblossom. Snooze Ginblossom,’’' she continued. She’d changed her voice to a lower timbre and adopted some strange accent. This thoroughly confused Edvard, but he didn’t want to be rude in case she had some sort of personality defect.

Terrible English secret agent impressions aside, this was quite the awkward interaction for both parties.

“What are you doing in my house, Madam Ginblossom?” Edvard asked.

The woman’s eyes lit up.

“Well, our quack was taken by a seed that turned out to be not a seed that was designed for me and blasted off into multidimensional pudding and I gathered up my friends odd and meat, and we chased after her and then ran into eighth-dimensional fireworks and I used death to crack a whole in the void where the dweller in nameless knowledge--who looks like a giant eye and goes by dink--became my friend and then scroll got an idea to use the relay to home in on grotto’s location and boom. We arrived in your cupboard.”

Edvard did not understand most of that, but he knew he’d brought it on himself. He had decided, after much pondering and examination, to store the little yellow seed from the sky rubbish in his pantry on the second shelf next to the peaches. He wasn’t sure about the rest of the nonsense spilling from the woman’s mouth, but, fortunately, when faced with the daunting task of parsing through incomplete data, he used a trick.

“Ah, I see,” he said.

He felt quite pleased with himself that he was able to completely avoid embroiling himself in whatever far-flung fantasy this woman was concocting. He wanted to sidestep this mess so that he could get these obviously unhinged brigands out of his pantry and off somewhere else. To where that would be, he had no particulars, only that it was decidedly not here between his oven and sink. He turned back with a mournful gaze in the direction of his drawing room where he knew his tea would be growing ever colder. At least, he reasoned, he’d gotten to have breakfast this time.

“You do?” Madam Ginblossom asked. “Oh, that makes things so much easier! I thought I was going to have to start shooting off a long explanation as to how all of this works. You know, celestial mechanics, definitions--though I was really looking forward to the interpretive dance portion--”

“That’s perfectly okay, Madam Ginblossom,” Edvard interjected. “Well, I suppose that’s all for today, then? Off you go. Thank you for stopping by. Please use the window.”

Edvard emphasized this by poking his rolled-up newsletter in the direction of the partially opened pane above the butcher block to their left where he noticed the chubby yellow face of Walter the tabby peering back at them.

“Oh my me!” the woman exclaimed, also noticing Walter. “What a cute wittle kitten! Come here baby kitty!”

The woman was suddenly moving and before Edvard could stop her, she pushed the window open wide and snatched Walter up in her thin arms. She hugged him to her chest and nuzzled her chin and cheeks against the cat’s fluffy body. Walter seemed unphased by this reaction, simply staring ahead as if completely disinterested and not currently being manhandled by a stranger covered in dehydrated berries.

“You are just the sweetest, tiny orange slice I’ve ever seen in my entire life!” The woman cried, continuing to rub against him. Edvard wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a look of unadulterated jealous rage in the single eye of the deformed child to the woman’s right.

After a few more moments of prodding, preening, rubbing and cooing, Walter was extracted from the woman’s grasp and set on the floor, where he dutifully set out to eat whatever morsels he could fit in his mouth.

With that particular chaos settled, Edvard addressed the elephant in the room.

“Madam Ginblossom,” he began. “I have, er, noticed you’re still standing in the ruins of my cupboard. Is there anything else I can do for you before you leave?”

The woman suddenly perked up, striding forward with a purpose to direct that Edvard actually shrank back. The person calling herself Snooze came within a few inches of Edvard’s face and smiled brightly.

“Did you see any weird spheres of light come through this way?”

Edvard blinked back at the girl, perfectly content to not say anything about the feverishly irresponsible content that had transpired one day previous. However, her look was so earnest, that Edvard couldn’t help himself.

“I believe that is a bit familiar…” he started, and all three of the new arrivals suddenly sprang forward, causing Edvard to tumble backward over a chair and onto his rump on the cold stone of the kitchen floor.

“Oh, no!” The woman called and pointed a single finger his way. Suddenly, Edvard was floating. A real, live, genuine, bonafide, honest-to-goodness, gravity-defying float. This was likely the most peculiar little woman he’d ever met, and as he was made upright and set on his own two feet again he shook his head.

“No,” he began. “No, no, no, no, no. That’s precisely enough of that!”

“Are you alright, Edvard?” Snooze asked, leaning in to inspect the man. He shooed her away and rubbed the sore meat of his rear.

“I’ll be just fine once we get this sorted, Madam Ginblossom. But please,” he insisted. “No more surprises like that. I’m far too old and pragmatic to have to introduce new mechanics into my lifestyle, thank you very much. It would be a kindness if we wrapped this up tidily and swiftly. I’ve got tea to attend to.”

Snooze gave him a sheepish grin.

“You said you’d seen a sphere of light?”

Edvard nodded, and recounted the strange event from yesterday to the small gathering in his pantry. It felt slightly off to him, to tell the tale, as if seemed a bit like gossip being that it directly involved his neighbor’s supposed property. However, when he was done, he noticed the serious expression on Madam Ginblossom’s face.

“Are you… well?” Edvard asked, taking a cautious step back. He wasn’t sure what manner of creatures these three were, but he did not want to run the risk of getting alien sick all over his house coat.

“I will be soon,” the woman said mysteriously and then gave Edvard a curt nod.

“Thanks for sharing your story with us. You said it was on Butterball Lane?”

“Buttermilk Lane,” Edvard corrected, but then admonished himself. Edvardo, he thought, you old fool! You wouldn’t last five seconds in a true interrogation. However, he supposed that was an alright manner to have during intense proceedings. Giving information up right away would likely mean he could leave early and make it back in time for a meal. Yes, he decided, if he was ever going to be interrogated, he’d absolutely not play hard to get.

The woman raised her hand.

“Scroll?” She asked, and shimmering blue orb of light appeared over her shoulder. Edvard gaped again. Truly, today was beating out yesterday for oddities. The orb--which Edvard discovered was sentient--and Snooze spent a few moments in quiet conversation before turning back to Edvard, who’d busied himself by beginning to sweep up pieces of his shattered cabinetry.

“Edvard?” She said.

“Yes, Madam Ginblossom?”

“We’ll be getting out of your hair now,” she said.

“Oh, wonderful!” Edvard said, but then chided himself. He really shouldn’t have allowed himself to sound so elated by the prospect of their expeditious retreat, but that’s what happened when he didn’t finish his cup of tea, he supposed.

“But, we have a favor to ask,” Snooze finished, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, well,” Edvard said, flustered. He should have been the one requesting a favor from them after the amount of damage they’d caused. Instead, politeness took over.

“What is it?”

Snooze lowered her brows and gave Edvard a smirk that sent chills down his spine.

“I have an idea, and I think it will work. But first…” she dropped her gaze to the floor. “I’m going to need to borrow that cat.”