TOOT TOOT
“Pam!”
CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA
Pamela blinked her eyes open, shattering the thicc layer of sleep crust enclosing her eyelids.
TOOT TOOT
“Pam! Get up! There’s someone at the door!”
CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA
“Pam! Honey! Get the cluck up already!”
TOOT TOOT
CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA
How was Pamela to get up? The loud, resonant rhythmn of the skytrain had long been desensitized to her, indeed to the point of becoming one with her morning routine, as soothing as the sultry schreeches of birds copulating in the early a.m.s.
TOOT TOOT
“Pam, if you don’t get up I’m gonna come up there and drag you out myself!”
That got Pamela out of bed. She’d been sleeping in the nude, save for her new locket, and the last thing she wanted was to feel so insultingly violated at such an age as her own.
CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA
Pamela took a moment to stare longingly out the window at the skytrain. She watched, amid smudges of the thrown peas of last night, as the skytrain tracks constructed themselves one after the other through sentience magic, cascading into a warbling, warping snake trail through the clouds like a makeshift rollercoaster.
For a moment, and just a moment, Pamela imagined she was riding atop the roof of that skytrain. The wind buffeting her face, bugs covering her like the thin windshield of a fast-moving horsedrawn carriage. What secrets of the sky might she see, if she were to ride upon such a majestic iron beast? Some people even said there were giants in the sky. Others said the giants were just a conspiracy, and what was actually up in the sky was a bunch of middle-aged robots.
“By the grace of cock, Pamela, you will get yourself down here to meet this strapping young visitor who happens to be male and you will get yourself down here to meet this strapping young visitor who happens to be male now!”
TOOT TOOT
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Pamela sighed, put on some eyeliner and trudged down the stairs. Sitting at the breakfast table sipping a cup of purple tea with her mother was some sort of country bumpking wearing an all-paper outfit. Surely it was a member of the Loyal Gourd.
“H’ow d’o yew dew, mi’yusrah?” the bumpkin slewed in his grating dialect, “A’ayum J’jeyubbudah.”
“Jebuddha?” Pamela squinted as she attempted to parse the drawl.
“N’nawuh, a’ayum J’jayubbudawuh,” Jebediah whined, scratching his cleft chin in bewilderment.
“Can I call you Jason?”
CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA
“Pam!!” Pamela’s mother scowled like a pot of boiling water had been splashed over her face, “How dare you mangle Jebediah’s name in such a way! Why, he’s a lieutenant of the Loyal Gourd!” she mouthed the word ‘money’ at Pamela, who rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“Thayunk yew, m’ayum,” Jebediah smiled at Pamela’s mother, regvealing an astute lack of teeth.
“Anytime, sweetie. Now, Pam here is just dying to hear everything you have to say about the Large Wall Board?”
“La’wyawl G’awrd, m’ayum.”
TOOT TOOT
“Yes, yes, tell Pam everything about the Lawful Sword.”
“W’weyul, P’ayum, ah’m h’eyur t’eh—”
“Call me Pamela, please,” Pamela jabbered, grabbing a ceramic pot of creamer from off the table and pouring its entire contents down her throat. She burped. “Excrete me.”
“Hood cock, Pam, have some decorum!”
“I said excrete me, mom.”
CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA
“U’uhm, c’cayun ah s’sayuh w’ut a’h w’awus g’awna s’ay t’ew yew, P’ayumlaw?”
“Sure, go ahead, Jason.”
“C’awull m’meyuh J’jeyawbawahdayawuh, p’uhleeyus.”
“Okay, Jebedoowah—”
“J’ayuhbawuhdayuhwawuh!”
“Ja-who-now?”
Pamela’s mother and Jebediah yelled his name at her in discordant unison.
TOOT TOOT
“W’eyul, aneywutnayow, th’uh f’furust thang y’aw n’neyud t’tew n’nowuh a’bawut thuh La’wul G’awurd i’iyus thayut w’weyuh a’awur a’awuh varay eyawmpawurtayunt f’fayusayet a’awuf l’layeef iyun WeyustNawurthSawuth Cayuhdawnyuh, w’eyar w’eeyawl bee w’arkin’.”
Pamela’s pupils greatly engorged about five seconds after this near indiscernable sentence from Jebediah, for she had been suddenly backhanded with the realization that she’d be twerking in WestNorthSouth Caldonia. Which was several days journey from her home in EastSouthNorth Caldonia.
Jebediah continued to putter on endlessly, saying many things in his tedious drawl-speak that Pamela could barely decipher. What she could glean was that yes, she was to be serving the Loyal Gourd in WestNorthSouth Caldonia, in a small rural village known as Lanksville. Of course they’d provide her with adequate onsite lodging so that she wouldn’t have to worry about commuting. Her duties would include waving at people, sweeping floors, signing papers, being depressed, and a whole slew of other laborious tasks, none of which sounded half as exciting as attempting to arrest someone.
Her ears sufficiently talked off and her motivation as sapped as an overcooked noodle, Pamela slumped forward and sighed. So this is what it felt like to be plucked from where you belonged and tossed into the burning fires of hen after thirty three slip ups.
SHCKKKNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
“What in the cluck?” Pamela groaned as the skytrain juddered to a halt.
“Pam! Watch your language! We’ve got company!”
“W’weyuwl, iyut l’ewks l’ayik iyut’s tahme f’awur u’s t’uh g’eyut g’awin’!” Jebediah hopped up like a country toad and sauntered over to the door, “Yew c’awmin, P’ayumlaw?”
“Coming? I’m not even packed, Jason!”
“”I’yuts fayen, iyut’s fayen, w’eyuh p’raviyuduh e’veraythang f’er ya ayut thuh La’wul G’awurd.”
“Ohhh. Providing. We like a man who provides, don’t we, Pammy?”
“Mom!”
Pamela’s mother roped her in to an entirely too tight hug before whispering gruffly in her ear, “Now get the cluck out of my house.”
Out of her mother’s house she went. And just like that, Pamela found herself following Jebediah up the janky metal ladder to board.