image [https://i.ibb.co/4SrPZgY/EP-C04.jpg]
"Now, then," said the turquoise president, turning to Chunks and Pucas, "I will instruct you two in your future doodies, er, duties. I shall make old Stitchface- "
"My name's Chunks," interrupted Chunks.
"I don't care what your name is; I shall call you old Stitchface," replied the president, "for that suits you quite well. I shall make you the official Scooper of the Iguana’s Poo. And you, you little felt. . . thing, you shall be the official Wiper of the Iguana’ Backsides, and you better wipe those big bottoms until they’re clean enough to eat out of.”
The sheriff had returned to the president’s side.
“The toilet plunger is locked up in the treasury, boss,” he said, out of breath.
“Good. Now throw these two freaks in with the other slaves. And get Zika the Make-Clothes-O-Matic to make them some decent turquoise outfits.”
The president’s palatial ranch house was certainly a magnificent building, with large and lofty rooms and superb furnishings, all being in shades of turquoise of course. Chancroid the Turquoise Sheriff, Chunks the Multi-Colored Golem, and Pucas the Mauve Wanderer passed through several broad corridors and then came to a big smelly room full of unpleasant-looking servants wearing turquoise jumpsuits. Some of them sat at tiny tables playing canasta. Others- the ones with broken arms or legs or skulls- glumly lay on the floor. The sheriff pushed the new slaves into the room and staggered off to catch his breath.
The servants were staring in bewilderment at Chunks and Pucas. Their looks expressed not only astonishment but dislike. They scowled and muttered and behaved in a very unfriendly way. One of those present, however, showed no especial enmity to Pucas and Chunks, and this Viralvanian attracted their notice because his appearance was so strange. He looked as if he were made of two separate Viralvanians, each cut through the middle and then crudely joined together, half of one to half of the other. One ear was big and stuck out from the side of his head, while the other ear was small and flat; one eye was half shut and twinkling while the other was big and staring; his nose was thin on one side and flat on the other, while one side of his mouth curled up and the other down. Pucas also noticed that he limped as he walked, because one leg was a trifle longer than the other, and that one hand was delicate and slender and the other thick and hardened by use. There was a horrific scar running up the middle of the man’s body neck and face.
"Don't stare at him," a voice whispered from behind them; "the poor fellow has been spliced, that's all."
Pucas turned to see who had spoken and found by his side a pot-bellied Viralvanian, naked except for iguanaboy books and a turquoise-gold chain around his neck. Dangling from the chain was a turquoise-gold “ZZ”. His nipples were remarkably large and hairy. He spoke in a pleasant way and seemed quite friendly. But the two-sided man had overheard Pucas’s remark and he now stepped forward and said, in a peevish tone:
"Let the freak look at me, if he wants to; I'm not pretty, but that's not my fault. Blame the president."
“Hello,” said Pucas.
"Nice to meet you," said Chunks. "What’s your name?"
"I'm now named Splurgeslap. Splurgeslap Splatsplunge.”
“Piddily-Cum-a-Zouthzul, that’s quite a mouthful!” exlained Chunks.
“My partner is called Slapsplurge Splungesplat. He's busy at present guarding the treasury, but I'll introduce you to him when he comes back. We've had the misfortune to be spliced, you know."
"What’s ‘spliced’?" asked Pucas.
"They cut two of us in halves and mismatch the halves- half of one to half of the other, you know- and then the other two halves are grafted together. It destroys our individuality and makes us complex creatures, so it's the worst punishment than can be inflicted on Meningioma Island."
"Does it hurt?," asked Pucas, alarmed at such dreadful butchery.
"You bet your sweet bippy," replied Splurgeslap, "and it also makes one frightfully nervous. They put you in the big Splicer, where a big jagged blade drops and slices you neatly in two- exactly in the middle. Then it matches half of you to another person who has likewise been sliced, stitches you up- and there you are, spliced to someone you don't care about and haven't much interest in. If your half wants to do something, the other half is likely to want to do something different, and the funny part of it is you don't quite know which is your half and which is the other half. It's a terrible punishment, and in a country where one can't die or be killed until he has lived his six hundred years, to be spliced is a great misfortune."
“Yeah,” agreed Pucas, nodding solemnly.”
"But can't you ever get un-spliced again?" asked Chunks.
"If the president would consent, I think it could be done," Splurgeslap replied; "but he never will consent. As far as I can remember this is about the meanest, most fascistic president who ever ruled this skyle. He was the first to invent splicing. I think we will all be glad when his three hundred years of rule are ended.”
“Can you keep a secret?" Zika Zoster asked.
“Sure,” said Splurgeslap.
"I can try," said Pucas.
"I've kept secrets- once in a while," asserted Chunks.
"Well, try to keep this one, said Zika Zoster, and then he whispered: “I'm to be the next president.”
"Good for you!" whispered Chunks. "I wish you were the president now, sir. But it seems you've got to wait a hundred years before you can take Scrumpox’s place."
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"Ma’am," whispered he, "there lies all my trouble. I'm quite sure the present president has reigned three hundred years next Plumesday; but he claims it is only two hundred years, and as he holds the book of record under lock and key in the treasury, there is no way for us to prove he is wrong."
"Oh," said Pucas.
"How old is the president?" asked Chunks.
"I believe he was two hundred years old when he was elected," replied Zika Zoster. "If he has already reigned three hundred years, as I suspect, then he is now five hundred years old. You see, he is trying to steal another hundred years of rule, so as to remain a tyrant all his life." Pucas said:
“Huh.”
The spliced slave walked away to go play cards and the chubby Viralvanian with the turquoise-gold chain finally introduced himself.
"My name is Zika Zoster, I’m the compound’s majordomo.”
“What’s a majordomo?” asked Pucas.
“It’s like a flackfizer. Follow me, please." And then he led the two slaves outside the ranchion and into the field. Zika Zoster showed Chunks and Pucas where the iguanas grazed, and where they kept the big shovels and sheet-sized wet wipes. Then he asked if the duo would like a tour of the country and they said yes.
Zika Zoster led Pucas and Chunks out of the field and across the compound, then out the front gate which was guarded by a sleepy iguanaboy. Immediately outside the compound the ground turned to mud. The majordomo took our friends to see all the sights of Viralvania. It didn’t take long- the grounds outside the compound only featured about twenty houses, all closely crammed together, plus a combination saloon/barbershop/dentist/doctor/haberdashery/ brothel. All the Viralvanians they encountered glared at the strangers and some even growled. They passed several scruffy, nasty looking children tending scruffy, nasty looking horned scroats, and an old Viralvanian with a tiny top hat and a long beard polishing a coffin he had made by hand.
“Is Viralvania very big?" Chunks asked.
"It is immense," was Zika Zoster’s proud reply. "This enormous country extends a mile in all directions from the center. That's very big, isn't it?"
"Not very," replied Chunks, who was feeling sore about this whole “slavery” situation. "We've cities on Bonertania ten times bigger- and then some big besides. We'd call this a small town in our country. Or maybe a hamlet.”
Zika Zoster seemed astonished and a little offended. The trio continued to splosh along the muddy path.
“Is the magenta side of Meningioma bigger than the turquoise side?" asked Chunks.
"No; it is supposed to be the same size," was the reply.
"Then why haven't you ever been there? Seems to me you could walk across the whole island in an hour," said the golem made of chunks.
"The two parts are separated by an impassable barrier," answered Zika Zoster. "Between them lies the great flatulenz mist bank, left behind by the Flatulenz Fairies who created Meningioma Island."
"A flatulenz mist bank? Why, that's no barrier!”
"It is, indeed," returned the Viralvanian. "The flatulencz mist bank is so thick and pungent that it stings one’s eyes, and if once you got into the bank you might wander forever and not find your way out again. Also, it is full of warm dampness that moistens your clothes and your hair until you become miserable, and even if you do escape you’ll smell like the farts for the rest of your life. It is furthermore said that those who enter the flatulenz mist bank forfeit the six hundred years allowed them to live, and are liable to die at any time. Here we do not die, you know; we merely pass away."
"How's that?" asked Chunks. "Isn’t passing away the same as dying?”
"No, indeed. When our six hundred years are ended we march past the Great Turquoise Grotto, through the Hole of Meningioangiomatosia, and are never seen again."
"That's queer," said Pucas.
"What would happen if you didn't march through the hole?" asked Chunks.
"I do not know, for no one has ever refused to do so. It is the law, and we all obey it."
"It saves funeral expenses, anyhow," remarked Chunks. "Where is this hole?"
"Just outside the gates of the country. There is a mountain by the Great Grotto, and the hole is at the foot of the mountain. Now the way I figure, the president ought to march into this grotto a hundred years from next Plumesday, but if he’s craven enough to try and steal a hundred years of rule perhaps he won't enter the Hole of Meningioangiomatosia at all. Therefore, if you will please be patient for about a hundred years, you will discover what happens to one who breaks the law."
"Thanks," remarked Chunks. "I don't expect to be very curious, a hundred years from now."
"Me neither," added Pucas.
"But I don't see how the president is able to fool you all,” said Chunks. “Can't any of you remember two or three hundred years back, when he first began to rule?"
"No," said Zika Zoster; "that's a long time to remember, and we Viralvanians try to forget all we can- especially whatever is unpleasant. Those who remember are usually the unhappy ones; only those able to forget find the most joy in life."
They had come to the border of Viralvania and a tall stone wall, which encircled the entire country and protected it from the desert beyond. They mounted a flight of steps to look over the top of the wall and from their elevation plainly saw the low mountain where the Hole of Meningioangiomatosia was located, and beyond that the thick, brownish-gray flatulenz mist bank, which constantly rolled like billows of Wormspotz Ocean and really seemed, from a distance, quite forbidding.
"What’s the magenta end of the skyland like?” asked Chunks.
"We know that the land is called Swollenlump. We are told in the book of record," replied Zika Zoster. "None of us now living know anything about it, but the book calls it the 'Buboe Country’.”
"I'd like to see that book of record," mused Chunks.
"I'd like to see it myself," returned Zika Zoster, with a sigh; "but no one can lay hands on it because the president keeps it safely locked up in his treasury."
"Where's the key?" asked Pucas.
"The president keeps it in his pocket, night and day," was the reply.
"The plunger is in that treasury," said Chunks. “Maybe we can break in and find it.”
"Well,” said Zika Zoster, “if you manage to enter the treasury, be sure to bring me the book of record."
They now sploshed back to the ranch house, still objects of much curiosity to the natives, who sneered at them and mocked them but dared not interfere with their progress. At the ranch house they were presented with new turquoise jumpsuits produced to fit them by the compound’s Make-Clothes-O-Matic. They were told to change, and that their old clothes were taken to be burned in the furnace. This miffed both our friends- Chunks lost the custom patchwork jumpsuit her new friend Jodo had made for her, and Pucas lost his lucky Sal Ammoniac T-shirt.
Then Zika told them that employee dinner was about to be served in the big kitchen. Zika Zoster took his seat at the end of the long table and placed Chunks on one side of him and Pucas on the other, to the great annoyance of the other servants present, who favored the strangers with nothing pleasanter than envious scowls. There was one vacant seat next to Pucas which was reserved for Soda; but the Schlingian tween had not yet appeared and the chunks golem and the felt boy were beginning to be uneasy about her.
Meanwhile, the president and vice-president Poliomyelitis- who was also Scrumpox’s super best friend and a raging alcoholic- and their six horrible daughters dined in formal state in the mansion’s banquet hall. Their servants brought in a huge tub full of turquoise macaroni salad and the family took all their clothes and slid into the tub, wallowing up to their nipples in the gooey salad which had too much turquoise mayonnaise in it. The mayonnaise had been sitting at room temperature for several hours and was congealing. They playfully threw the food into each other’s faces while laughing uproariously. Sometimes they bent their long necks until their tiny heads were completely submerged in the salad. They sloppily stuffed handfuls of the salad into each others’ mouths until they all moaned because they were too full. Then they had cake.
image [https://i.ibb.co/C9WcZYS/EP-C04-404.jpg]