image [https://i.ibb.co/hYXhSQB/119wip.jpg]

Soda and Chunks and Montana and the Ratsack Golem and Vira followed Hep Hopcat and several other feetniks through the streets and just beyond the city limits they came to a very high picket fence which divided the great cavern into two parts.

But the part inhabited by the green nostril goblins was in no way as grand in appearance as that of the feetniks. The walls and buildings were made of dull brownish-green dried snot and boogers. But in extent the town was much larger than that of the feetniks and they had an arthouse theater, a grindhouse theater, and a multiplex, plus three video stores. There were huge flower arrangements made of used tissues. The slimy sidewalks were thronged with numerous goblins who busied themselves in various ways while constantly wiping their various leaking orifices.

Looking through the open pickets of the fence our friends watched the nostril goblins, who did not know they were being watched by strangers, and found them very unusual in appearance. They were little folks in size and had round bodies and short legs and arms. They wore big light blue handkerchiefs as loincloths. Their heads had long, pointed ears with huge droopy lobes and a slimy pricker set in the center of the forehead.

Soda thought the most striking thing about the goblins was that each one had one-hundred-and-twenty-seven nostrils each. The nostrils were of all shapes and sizes, some with wiry red or orange hair growing out of them. Some nostrils were constantly leaking goopy, gloopy snot, and others were clearly full of crunchy boogers.

The prickers the feetniks feared did not seem very terrible, for they were not more than six inches long; but they were sharp and featured several nostrils oozing grody goo, so no wonder the feetniks feared them. None of the nostril goblins was yet aware of the presence of strangers, who watched the little green people for a time.

To Montana Shingles, the most surprising thing about the beings was that they led domesticated wingless googoyles around on leashes. She once had a particularly harrowing encounter with these grotesque imps in the Blecch Pyramid of Fartcano Dominion and had hoped to never see them again.

"I think," said the Ratsack Golem, "that if I could talk with those nostril goblins they would apologize to you, and then there would be no need to fight."

"Can't you talk from this side," asked Hep.

"Not so well," replied the Ratsack Golem. "Do you suppose you could throw me over that fence? It is high, but I am not very heavy at the moment. This morning I emptied my sack of all the poop pellets and all the rats that had died."

"We can try it," said Hep. "I'll give you a toss. Can’t promise that you’ll land on your feet, daddy-o."

"No matter about that," returned the Ratsack Golem. "Just toss me over and I'll be satisfied."

So Hep picked up the Ratsack Golem, whose sack was writhing more than usual as the rats were getting excited. The celebrated film-maker balanced the wiggling sack a moment in his four hands, to see how much it weighed, and then with all his strength tossed Ratsack high into the air.

Perhaps if Ratsack had been a trifle heavier he would have been easier to throw and would have gone a greater distance; but, as it was, instead of going over the fence he landed just on top of it, and one of the sharp pickets caught him in the middle of his sack and held him fast prisoner. Had he been face downward he might have managed to free himself, but lying on his back on the picket his smallish hands waved in the air of the Schnozzle Town while his littleish feet kicked the air of Galaxy City; so there he was.

"Are you hurt?" called Soda anxiously.

“No, but I think I might’ve tore my sack,” said the Ratsack Golem. Montana asked:

“How can we get him down, Hep?"

Hep shook his head and shugged. None of the other feetniks had anything constructive to add.

"This is terrible," said Soda, tearing up a little. "I suppose it's because I am Soda the Cursed that everyone who tries to help me gets into trouble."

"You are fortunate to have friends to help you," declared Montana. Soda couldn’t believe THE Monica Shingles considered her a friend. "But don't worry. We'll rescue Ratsack, somehow."

"I know how," announced Chunks. "Here, Hopcat; just throw me up to Ratsack and when I'm on top the fence I'll pull our friend off the picket and toss him down to you."

"All right," said Hep, and he picked up Chunks in his four arms and threw her in the same manner he had the Ratsack Golem. He must have used more strength this time, however, for Chunks sailed far over the top of the fence and, without being able to grab the Ratsack Golem at all, tumbled to the ground and rolled into Schnozzle Town, where her stitched-and-stapled body knocked over two male goblins and a female one and made a crowd that had collected there scamper like sewer rats to get away from her.

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Seeing the next moment that she was harmless, the goblins slowly returned and gathered around Chunks, regarding her multicolored physiognomy with astonishment. One of them wore a crusty, green-dusted-diamond-encrusted bracelet around his pricker, and this seemed a person of importance. He spoke for the rest of his people, who treated him with great respect.

"Who are you, unknown being?" he asked.

"Piddily-Cum-a-Zunks, my name is Chunkity Chunks," she said, rising to her feet and brushing off her jumpsuit.

“What manner of creature are you?”

“chunks golem.”

"And where did you come from?" he continued.

"Over the fence. Don't be silly. There's no other place I could have come from, Billy." she replied.

He looked at her thoughtfully, fingering one of the nostrils on his chin.

"You are not a feetnik, so you are welcome. I am chief of the nostril goblins, and my name is Proboscis." Chunks said:

"Proboscis? Isn’t that name a little too on the nose?” She paused and cleared her throat. “Anyway, the reason I volplaned over the fence, Probo, was so I could have a talk with you about the feetniks."

"What about the feetniks?" asked the chief, frowning.

"You've insulted them, and you'd better beg their pardon," said Chunks. "If you don't, they'll probably hop over here and conquer you."

"We're not afraid- as long as the gate is locked," declared the chief. "And we didn't insult them at all. One of us made a joke that the feetniks didn’t get. They all act like they’re intellectuals but actually they’re quite stupid." The chief smiled as he said this and the smile made his face look quite jolly. "You see, a goblin said they have less understanding than we. Get it? Because they've only got one leg. Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha! You see the point, don't you? If you stand on your legs, and your legs are under you, then- ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!- then your legs are your under-standing. Hee, hee, hee! Ho, ho! Hee, hee, hee! Ho, ho, ho! Hee, hee, hee! My, but that's a fine joke. And the stupid feetniks couldn't see it! Those toejam factories couldn't see that with only one leg they must have less under-standing than we who have two legs. Ha, ha, ha! Hee, hee! Ho, ho! Ha, ha, ha! Hee, hee, hee! Ho, ho, ho!" The chief wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes with a smaller light blue handkerchief that he pulled from the larger light blue handkerchief he was wearing.

"Then," said Chunks, "their understanding of the understanding you meant led to the misunderstanding."

"Exactly; and so there's no need for us to apologize," returned the chief.

"No need for an apology, perhaps, but much need for an explanation," said Chunks decidedly. "You don't want war, do you?"

"They’re lucky we don’t declare war on them for how rancid their ungainly feet smell! Do you think it’s heaven having one-hundred-and-twenty-seven nostrils and having to inhale the fumes of hundreds of giant sweaty feet? But, yeah, sure, I’d like to avoid war," admitted Proboscis the nostril goblin. "The question is, who's going to explain the joke to the feetniks? You know the old adage about it killing a joke to dissect it, and this is the best joke I ever heard."

"Who made the joke?" asked Chunks.

"Snout Q. Dangler. He is working in the mines, just now, but he'll be home before long. Suppose we wait and talk with him about it? Maybe he'll be willing to explain his joke to the feetniks."

"All right," said Chunks. "I'll wait, if Snout isn't too long."

"No, he's short; he's shorter than I am. Ha, ha, ha! Say! that's a better joke than Snout's. He won't be too long, because he's short. Hee, hee, ho! Hee, hee, ho ho! Hee, hee, hee, hee, ho ho ho! Hee, hee, ho, ho, ho, ho!"

The other nostril goblins who were standing by roared with phlegmy laughter and seemed to like their chief's joke as much as he did. Chunks thought it was odd that they could be so easily amused, but decided there could be little harm in people who laughed so merrily.

"Come with me to my dwelling and I'll introduce you to my nineteen daughters," said the chief.

So Chunks accompanied Proboscis along the street to a booger shack that seemed on the outside exceptionally grimy and dingy. But there was nothing grimy or faded about the interior, indeed. On the contrary, the room was of dazzling brilliance and beauty, for it was lined throughout with an exquisite metal that resembled green frosted molybdenum. The surface of this metal was highly ornamented in raised designs representing various scenes from feature film motion pictures, and from the metal itself was radiated the soft green light which flooded the room. All the furniture was made of the same glorious metal, and Chunks asked what it was.

"That's plutonium," answered the chief. "We nostril goblins spend a lot of time digging for plutonium, and we use it to decorate our homes and make them pretty and cozy.” Proboscis stuck two fingers into two of the nostrils by his belly button and rooted around.

"Seems to me," said Chunks, musingly, "I heard somewhere that plutonium was bad for you.”

"Seems? Why, you're all seams, my lady!" said the chief; and the others snorted with laughter. “But seriously, except for chronic cold and flu symptoms and the occasional bloody nose we’re pretty hale and hearty around here.” He pulled long strings of snot studded with black and red boogers out of a stomach orifice and wiped them on his loincloth.

The chief led Chunks into the next room and she found a row of green ladies seated in plutonium chairs ranged along one wall of the room. There were nineteen of them, by actual count, and they were of all sizes from a tiny child to one almost a grown woman. Each one of their 2,413 nostrils was pierced with a silver dusted diamond nose-ring.

"These," said the chief, "are my sweet daughters. My dears, I introduce to you Miss Chunks, a chunks golem who is traveling in foreign parts to increase her store of wisdom."

The nineteen nostril goblin ladies all arose and made a polite curtsy, after which they resumed their seats and rearranged their loincloths properly and dabbed at various nostrils with their light blue handkerchiefs. At no point did they look at or acknowledge Chunks at all.

“They seem pretty snotty to me,” said Chunks.

image [https://i.ibb.co/yRtxv9h/119small.jpg]