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While our friends plummeted up the Poop Chute the Fartmeister, aka the King of the Fart Ghouls, was trying to amuse himself in his fartcano’s spacious home theater, which featured a 100 inch TV and a single recliner. Other than watching fart and shart-related feature film motion pictures it was hard work for the Fartmeister to find amusement, for all the fart ghouls were behaving well and there was no one to scold or to punish. The Fartmeister had thrown a petrified poostick at Kankersaur the Royal Flackfizer six times, without hitting him once. Petrified poo was the third hardest substance on Sifillis, after molybdenum and dried snot. Not that Kankersaur had done anything wrong. On the contrary, he had obeyed the king in every way but one: he would not stand still, when commanded to do so, and let the poostick strike him.

We can hardly blame Kankersaur for this, and even the cruel the Fartmeister forgave him; for he knew very well that if he mashed his flackfizer he could never find another as clever and obsequious. Kankersaur could make the fart ghouls work when their king could not, for the ghouls hated the Fartmeister, who was a half-breed and not a pureblood fart ghoul. Sometimes, when the Fartmeister abused them worse than usual, they grew sullen and threw down their fart and shart sorting tools. Then, however hard their king scolded or flogged them, they would not work until Kankersaur came and begged them to.

But today all the ghouls were working industriously at their tasks and the Fartmeister, having nothing to do, was greatly bored. He honked for Kankersaur and asked him to listen carefully with the Ear-O-Scope.

For a time the flackfizer was silent, bending forward and leaning his ear up to the slimy, fleshy, veiny tube to catch the slightest sound. Then suddenly he said:

"Here is an interesting thing, your putridness. These people are talking about how they’ll steal the Quantum Perineum from you."

"What people?" demanded the Fartmeister, sitting up straight in his recliner.

"The sack of rats and the other ones you inserted into the Poop Chute."

"Where are they now?"

"In the same chute, and coming back this way," said the raptor.

The Fartmeister got out of his recliner and began to pace up and down the theater.

"I wonder what can be done to stop them," he mused. "How far away are those dork-butts now?"

"About nine thousand three hundred and six miles, seventeen furlongs, eight feet and four inches- as nearly as I can judge from the sound of their voices," replied the bespectacled dinosaur.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Aha! Then it will be some time before they arrive," said the Fartmeister, farting. "and when they get here I shall be ready to receive them. For who could conquer my thousands of fully armed ghouls?"

"Why, they’ve been conquered before, if I remember aright," answered Kankersaur with a grimace. "Once I saw you running from a little lady named Titiana and her friends, as if you were really afraid."

"Well, I was afraid, that time," admitted the King Fartmeister, with a deep sigh, "for that dumb-butt Titiana had a cockadoodoo bird that laid rancid terds!" The Fartmeister shuddered as he said "terds," for terds are the only things that the ghouls greatly dread.

"Listen," said the Fartmeister, "and tell me if you hear any terds coming through the Poop Chute."

Kankersaur the Royal Flackfizer listen for a moment, then shook his head and said,"No one can hear a terd," said he. "The only way to discover the truth is to look through the Cosmic Telescope."

"Then look at once, Kankersaur, you dork-butt!"

So Kankersaur extended the slimy, fleshy, veiny telescope tube and put his eye to the wrinkled end and was able to gaze deep into the Poop Chute, to where our friends were at that time falling.

"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "They’re riding a paramecium."

"A big one?" asked the Fartmeister, farting.

"A baby.”

"Are there any terds in the Poop Chute?" inquired the King of the Fart Ghouls.

Kankersaur looked again.

"I can see no terds at all," said he; "but I imagine that the paramecium is as dangerous as terds. Probably the Veiny Mammoth has sent him here to punish you for dropping those strangers into the Poop Chute. I warned you not to do it, your shartiness."

This news made King Fartmeister anxious. For a few minutes he paced up and down, stroking his black beard and thinking with all his might. After this he turned to Kankersaur and said:

"Fudge paramecia."

"But sir," returned Kankersaur earnestly. "No one can hurt a paramecium, because they are the toughest creature alive. Once, a few hundred years ago, while wandering through a ghost town I came upon a small piece of a Mukus Quadrant haberdasher lying on the dusty ground. I asked the piece of haberdasher what had happened to it. Fortunately the mouth was a part of this piece- the mouth and the left side of his head- so it was able to tell me that a fierce paramecium was the cause. It had scattered him in every direction, and as there was no friend near to collect his pieces and put him together, they had been separated for a great many years. So you see, sir, it is not in good taste to sneer at a paramecium."

The Fartmeister had listened attentively to Kankersaur. Then the King of the Fart Ghouls ordered his flackfizer to summon Kommandant Trenchstench and his fart ghoul army, especially the ninjas who were silent but deadly. They were then to march to the mouth of the Poop Chute, where they could seize the travelers as soon as they appeared.

image [https://i.ibb.co/QM8QTjC/126small.jpg]