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After their encounter with the Orange Bunion the terrain improved and the desert places began to give way to fertile spots; still no chalets or wigwams or outhouses were yet to be seen near the road. There were some hills, with valleys between them, and on reaching the top of one of these hills our friends found before them a high onyx wall, running to the right and the left as far as their eyes could reach. Immediately in front of them, where the wall crossed the roadway, stood a gate having stout molybdenum bars that extended from top to bottom. They found, on coming nearer, that this gate was locked with a great big padlock, rusty through lack of use.

"Well," said the Spork Armadillo, "I guess we'll stop here."

"Piddily-Cum-a-Zuck, it looks like we are stuck." said Chunks in a sing-songy voice.

"Looks are deceiving," declared Rumplemuss the Dirty Wanderer, guffawing at their disappointed faces, "and this barrier is one of the most deceiving thing in all of Bonertania."

"There is no one to mind the gate and let people through," said the Spork Armadillo, "and we've no key to the padlock."

“If we had wings we might fly over the wall,” said the Spork Armadillo, “but we cannot climb it.”

“But unless we get to Schmegma City I won't be able to find the things to turn Uncle Karl from a steaming pile of puke to a real man,” said Soda.

"All very true," answered the Dirty Wanderer, quietly; "but I know this gate, having passed through it many times."

"How?" they all eagerly inquired.

"I'll show you how," said he. He stood Soda in the middle of the road and placed Chunks just behind her, with her mismatched hands on Soda's shoulders. After Chunks came Gary, who held a part of her crazy-quilt dress in his mouth. Then, last of all, was the Spork Armadillo, holding fast to Gary's fluffy tail with her pink toothless jaws.

"Now," said the wanderer, "you must all shut your eyes tight, and keep them shut until I tell you to open them."

Then he took Soda's-hand and led her forward over the cobblestone road, toward the molybdenum gate. Holding fast to one another they all followed in a row, expecting every minute to bump against the metal bars. The Dirty Wanderer also had his eyes closed, but marched straight ahead, nevertheless, and after he had taken one thousands steps, by actual count, he stopped and said:

"Now you may open your eyes."

They did so, and to their astonishment found the wall and the gateway far behind them, while in front the former Schling Quadrant, where the grass was blue, had given way to silverish grey fields, with pretty homes, convience stores, mom and pop video stores, and movie theaters scattered among them.

"That wall," explained Rumplemuss, "is what is called an optical illusion. It is quite real while you have your eyes open, but if you are not looking at it the barrier doesn't exist at all. It's the same way with many other evils in life; they seem to exist, and yet it's all seeming and not true. You will notice that the wall- or what we thought was a wall- separates the Schling Quadrant from the silverish grey country that surrounds Schmegma City. There are two roads through the Schling Country, but the one we followed is the best of the two. Mono once traveled the other way and met with more dangers than we did. But all our troubles are over for the present, as another day's journey will bring us to the great Schmegma City."

They were delighted to know this, and proceeded with new courage. In a couple of hours they stopped at a wigwam, where the naked mole rats who lived there were very hospitable and invited them to dinner. The native folk regarded Chunks, Gary, and the Spork Armadillo with much curiosity but no great astonishment, for they were accustomed to seeing extraordinary creatures in Bonertania.

The mommy mole rat of this chalet got her needle and thread and sewed up the holes made by the bunion quills in Chunks's flesh, after which the golem was assured she looked as beautiful as ever.

"You ought to have a hat to wear," remarked the woman, I have some patches put away, and if you will wait two or three days I'll make you a lovely crazy-quilt sherpa hat that will match your skin and dress."

"Piddily-Cum-a Zat, never mind the hat," said Chunks, shaking her yarn braids; "I’m awfuls soz ‘bout that but we must fly like a bat!"

The children of the chalet wanted to keep the Spork Armadillo to play with, so she was offered a good home if she would remain; but the armadillo was too much interested in Soda the Cursed's adventures and refused to stop.

"Children are rough playmates," she remarked to her friends, "and although this home is more pleasant than that of the Chimpanzee Alchemist I fear I would soon be squashed by the ladies and boys."

After they had rested themselves they renewed their journey, finding the road now smooth and pleasant to walk upon and the country growing more beautiful the nearer they drew to Schmegma City.

By and by Soda began to walk on the silverish grey grass, looking carefully around her.

"What are you trying to find?" asked Chunks.

"A stench blossom," said she.

"Don't do that, ya dork-butt!" exclaimed the Dirty Wanderer. "It's against the law to pick a stench blossom! You must wait until you get the tremorroid's consent."

"She wouldn't know it," declared the tween.

"The tremorroid knows many things," said the wanderer. "In her room is an enchanted PC that gives her updates on events throughout Bonertania. She may be reading an update or even seeing the picture of us even now, and noticing what we do."

"Does she always watch the PC?" asked Soda.

"Not always, for she has many other things to do; but, as I said, she may be watching us this very minute."

"I don't care what the tremorroid is doing," said Soda, in an obstinate tone of voice."

Rumplemuss looked at her in surprise.

"You ought to care for the fairy tremorroid," said he, "if you expect to save your uncle. For, if you displease our powerful ruler, your journey will surely prove a failure; whereas, if you make a friend of the tremorroid, she will gladly assist you."

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Soda sulked a while, but finally returned to the road and kept away from the silverish grey grass. Soda was moody and bad tempered for an hour or two afterward, because she could really see no harm in picking a stench blossom, if she found one, and in spite of what the Dirty Wanderer had said she considered the tremorroid's law to be unjust.

They presently came to a beautiful grove of tall and stately fleshtrees, through which the road wound in sharp curves- first one way and then another. As they were walking through this grove they heard someone in the distance singing scat, and the be-bop sounds grew nearer and nearer until they could distinguish the individual noises, although the bend in the road still hid the singer.

"Ah!" exclaimed Rumplmuss; "here comes my friend the Ratsack Golem."

"You’re kidding!" asked Soda. "THE Ratsack Golem?"

"You bet. He's a really cool and deep and very smart. You'll dig’im, I'm sure."

Just then the famous Ratsack Golem of Bonertania came around the bend in the road, riding astride a crude wooden bench in the shape of a raccoon.

The Ratsack Golem was a large burlap sack with thin arms and legs growing out of it. The golem’s sack was always writhing subtly, for he was stuffed with squirming live rodents. His sack was tied at the top with thick twine, and he had two eyes and a mouth painted on the front of it. It bore a goofy and yet winning expression, and one of his eyes was a bit larger than the other- just like Chunks.

The Ratsack Golem’s mode of transportation was almost as queer as he was. Its name was Gashmouth and this chainsaw sculpture was a great favorite with the tremorroid, who had caused the bottoms of its feet to be shod with plates of gold, so the leatherwood would not wear away. As the Ratsack Golem came in sight of the party of travelers, he reined in his wooden friend and dismounted, greeting Rumplemuss with a warm hug. He squeezed a fart out of the dirty old wanderer.

"What are you doing here, you old bag of vermin?" asked Rumplemuss playfully.

"Gashmouth has been good enough to let me ride him, and I was just out pondering. I was just thinking about how one of the best things we can do is to try to imagine other creatures’ lives, with the ultimate aim of understanding and empathizing with everyone we possibly can."

"Uh-huh," replied Rumplemuss.

Then the Ratsack Golem turned to stare at the chunks golem in wonder, while she in turn stared at him.

"Hey, Rumplemuss," he whispered, drawing the dingy wanderer aside, "pat me into shape, there's a good fellow!"

While punching and patting the Ratsack Golem into a more presentable shape the Dirty Wanderer said "Allow me, Miss Chunks, to present my friend, the Ratsack Golem. Ratsack Golem, this is Chunks; Chunks, this is the Ratsack Golem. Ratsack- Chunks; Chunks- Ratsack."

They both bowed with an imitation of dignity.

"Forgive me for staring so rudely," said the Ratsack Golem, "but you are the most beautiful sight my eyes have ever beheld."

"That is a high compliment from one who is himself so dashing," murmured Chunks, casting down her mismatched eyes by lowering her head. "But, tell me, good sir, are you not a trifle… wriggly?"

"Yes, of course; that's the constantly squirming rats in my sack, you know…"

"Rats in the sack," said the Spork Armadillo. "I thought I smelled rat poo."

"I- er- I'm so glad I've met you, Miss Chunks!" said the living sack of rats. "Introduce us again, Rumplemuss."

"Once is enough," replied the wanderer, laughing at his friend's enthusiasm.

"Then tell me where you found her, and- Dear me, what a queer armadillo! What are you made of?"

"Pure Spork," answered the armadillo. Spork was a popular tinned meat-flavored product. She was proud to have attracted the Ratsack Golem's attention. "I am much more beautiful than the chunks golem. I'm pink, and Chunks isn't; I've got pink brains and an iguana steak heart."

"Mmm-hmm," murmured the sack of rats, already tired of the armadillo. "Well, well! Here's a Schling girl, too. Shake hand, my little lady. How are you?"

"Very worried about my uncle, sir," replied Soda.

Meantime, the green jackalope had approached Gashmouth and begun to sniff at it. Gashmouth resented this familiarity and with a sudden kick pounded Gary squarely on its head with one gold-shod foot.

"Take that, you dork-butt!" it cried angrily.

The green jackalope never even winked.

"Don't make me angry or my eyes will shoot lazers and burn you up!"

Gashmouth rolled its knot eyes and kicked again, but Gary trotted away and said to the Ratsack Golem:

"What a sweet disposition that creature has! I advise you to chop it up for the oven!"

"I think the trouble is that you haven't been properly introduced," said the Ratsack Golem. "Gash is the favorite steed of the Tremorroid of Bonertania, and he lives in a stable made of Mukusian plastic and decorated with silver dusted diamonds, at the rear of Videotape Palace by the port-o-potties. He is swift as the wind, untiring, and is kind to his friends. All the people of Bonertania respect him highly, and when I visit the tremorroid sometimes Gash allows me to ride him- as I am doing today. Now you know what an important personage Gashmouth is."

The green jackalope was somewhat abashed by this speech and did not know how to reply. But Soda said:

"This furry yokai is called Gary, and the antlers growing on the top of his head are very important."

"But," said raccoon, in a puzzled way, "what makes those antlers important? They’re much like the antlers on an elkfish."

So Soda related the story of her visit to the chalet of the Wankensteins, and how she met there the Spork Armadillo, and how Chunks was brought to life with Make Living Concoction and of the terrible accident to Uncle Karl and Sheila the Puffy Beaver. Then she told how she had set out to find the five different ingredients which the alchemist needed to make a concoction that would restore the piles of vomit to humanoid form, one requirement being antlers from a green jackalope's head.

The Ratsack Golem looked grave as he listened and he shook his head several times, as if in disapproval.

"We must see the tremorroid about this matter," he said. "That alchemist is breaking the law by practicing thaumaturgy without a license, and I'm not sure the tremorroid will allow him to restore your uncle to life. Not to mention the beaver."

"Already I have warned the lady of that," declared Rumplemuss.

At this Soda began to tear up a little. "I want my Uncle Karl back!" she exclaimed. "I know how he can be restored to life, and I'm going to do it- tremorroid or no tremorroid! And what’s with this word tremorroid, it sounds made-up! What right has this so-called tremorroid to keep my Uncle Karl a pile of vomit forever?"

"And don’t forget the beaver," added the Spork Armadillo

"Don't worry about that just now," advised the Ratsack Golem. "Go on to Schmegma City, and when you reach it have Rumple take you to see the Montana Shingles. Tell her your story and I'm sure she will help you. Mono is the tremorroid's super best friend, and if you can win her to your side your uncle is pretty safe to live again."

"And don’t forget the beaver," added the Spork Armadillo. Rumplemuss let out a big cheek-flapping fart that made Chunks giggle. The Ratsack Golem said to her:

"What an admirable young lady you are, and what jolly gay company! We must be better acquainted, for never before have I met a lady with such exquisite coloring or such natural, artless manners."

"Piddily-Cum-a-Zelf, you’re not so bad yourself," replied Chunks. "I like your burlap texture." She traced a purple finger over the Ratsack Golem’s face.

"When you arrive at Schmegma City I will see you again," said the Ratsack Golem, who would’ve blushed if he were able. "Just now I am going to call upon Rebekkah Earwax, an old friend who has promised to repaint my left eye for me. You may have noticed that the paint on my eye has peeled off and faded, which affects my vision on that side. My friend Miss Earwax always fixes me up when I get weather-worn."

"When do you expect to return to Schmegma City?" asked Rumplemuss.

"I'll be there this evening, for I'm anxious to see Miss Chunks again. How is it, Gash; are you ready to run?"

"Anything that suits you suits me," returned the chainsaw sculpture.

So the Ratsack Golem mounted creature and said:

"Think without limits; act for the young mutants! Now, Gashmouth, away!"

The Chainsaw Raccoon darted away so swiftly that they were out of sight in an instant.

"What a queer sack," remarked the Spork Armadillo.

"I thought he was cute and so nice and polite," added Chunks, bobbing her head. "I think he is the handsomest man I've seen since I came to life."

"Handsome is as handsome does," quoted the Dirty Wanderer; "but I must admit that no other living sack of rats is handsomer."

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