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The Vomitfucation Concoction worked perfectly. When the liquid struck them there was nothing left of Karl Olheiser the Silent One and Sheila Wankenstein the Puffy Beaver but two big piles of steaming, chunky vomit.
Soda the Cursed pushed the newborn chunks golem off of her and ran to the pile of vomit that was Uncle Karl, filled with a terrible fear for the only family she had ever known. The Chimpanzee Alchemist was hopping around the room in a frenzy of despair, calling upon his super best friend to forgive him, to speak to him, to stop being a fetid pile of spew.
The golem made of chunks, quickly recovering from her fright, now came nearer and looked at the chimpanzee and the armadillo and the girl and the piles of puke curiously. Then she looked at herself and laughed. Noticing the mirror, she stood before it and examined her extraordinary features with amazement. Then, addressing her reflection in the glass, she exclaimed:
"Whee, but there's a gaudy dame! I wonder what’s her game? Makes a crayon-box blush with shame. Piddily-Cum-Azame! Howdy-do, Miss What's-your-name?"
She bowed, and the reflection bowed. Then she laughed again, long and merrily, and the Spork Armadillo crept out from under the table and said:
"I don't blame you for laughing at yourself. Aren't you horrid?"
"Horrid?" she replied. "Why, I'm thoroughly delightful. I'm an original, unique, if you please, and therefore incomparable. I’m a first rate me!" The golem started dancing and singing:
"Oh, I love myself, I think I’m grand, I go to the movies and hold my hand, I put my arm around my waist, and when I get fresh I slap my face!"
Soda was sobbing over the pile of hot goo that was her uncle.
The chunks golem was standing on her head. She blew a raspberry and then said:
"Who but that poor sloppy beaver a could have managed to invent such an unreasonable being as I? But I'm glad- I'm awfully glad!- that I'm just what I am, and nothing else."
"Be quiet, will you?" cried the frantic Chimpanzee Alchemist; "be quiet and let me think! If I don't think I shall go ape-nutz."
"Think on," said the chunks golem, seating herself in a chair and folding her legs. "Think all you want to, no one’s stopping you. Piddily-Cum-a-Zynd, I don't really mind."
The alchemist found that the gold snuff box had scattered its life-giving grains over his blender. The appliance was very much alive, and it began break dancing and beat boxing. This performance so annoyed the chimpanzee that he kicked the thing into a corner and threw a bean bag chair over it, to hold it quiet.
"You've bungled everything, Wankenstein," said the Spork Armadillo, contemptuously.
"Except me," said the stitched-and-stapled golem, jumping up to whirl merrily around the room.
"I think," said Soda, still sobbing in grief over Uncle Karl's sad fate, "it must all be my fault, in some way. I'm called Soda the Cursed, you know."
"That's nonsense, kiddo," retorted the chunks golem cheerfully. "No one can be unlucky who has the intelligence to direct his own actions! So, Wanky Wankenstein, what's the row about, anyway?"
"The Liquid of Vomitfucation has spilled upon my dear SBF and my old film school roommate and turned them into vomit," he sadly replied. "My partner has peas and corn in her. And is that hair?"
"Well, why don't you sprinkle some of that Make Living Concoction on them and bring them to life again? They’d still be piles of puke but at least they’d be alive." said the Spork Armadillo.
The alchemist gave a jump.
"Why, I hadn't thought of that!" he joyfully cried, and grabbed up the golden snuff box, with which he ran to the steaming pile of expunge that was the Puffy Beaver.
Said the chunks golem:
"Piddily-Cum-a-Zee- What fools these alchemists be! His head's so thick, he can't think quick, so he takes advice from me!"
Dr. Wankenstein began shaking the snuff box over the piles of vomit. But not a grain of powder came out. He pulled off the cover, glanced within, and then threw the bottle from him with a wail of despair.
"Gone- gone! Every bit gone," he cried. "Wasted on that miserable blender when it might have saved my dear SBF!" It was muffled but they could hear the blender giggling from the corner.
Then the alchemist bowed his head on his hairy arms and began to cry.
Soda felt sorry for her uncle, for herself, and for the chimp. She went up to the sorrowful ape and said softly:
"You can make more Make Living Concoction, Dr. Wankenstein."
"Yes; but it will take me six years- six long, weary years of stirring four kettles with both feet and both hands," was the agonized reply. "Six years! while poor Sheila stands watching me as a puke pile."
"Piddily-Cum-a-Zun, can't anything else be done?" asked the chunks golem.
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The alchemist shook his head. Then he seemed to remember something and looked up.
"Wait, stop the clock! There is one other concoction that would destroy the spell of the Liquid of Vomitfucation and restore my Sheila and your uncle to life!" said he. "It may be hard to find the things I need to make this alchemistical concoction, but if they were found I could do in an instant what will otherwise take six long, weary years of stirring molybdenum kettles with both hands and both feet."
"All right; let's find the things, then!" said Soda.
"That seems a lot more sensible than those stirring times with the kettles,” said Chunks.
"I agree with Soda and Chunks," said the Spork Armadillo, approvingly. "I'm glad to find that overall you have decent brains,” she said to the chunks golem. Mine are exceptionally good. They're pink."
"Chunks?" repeated the golem. "Did you call me 'Chunks'? Is that my name?"
"I- I believe my poor SBF had intended to name you 'Chunks, yes,'" said Dr. Wackenstein, wiping his brown with a light-blue handkerchief.
“Very imaginative name,” the Spork Armadillo said sarcastically.
"Chunks. Chunks. Chunks Chunks Chunks! Piddily-Cum-Azest, I like 'Chunks' the best," she said with a laugh. "Thank you for naming me, Ms. Armadillo. Ms. Armadillo, have you any name of your own?"
"I have a foolish name that the fat beaver once gave me, but which is quite undignified for one of my importance," answered the armadillo. "She called me 'Sporky.' Please don’t call me Sporky."
Soda was getting annoyed. "Tell me," pleaded Soda, speaking to the Chimpanzee Alchemist, "what must we find to make the concoction that will save Uncle Karl?"
"First," was the reply, "I must have a stench blossom. That can only be found in the fields around Schmegma City, and stench blossoms are very scarce, even there."
"I'll find it for you," promised Soda.
"The next thing," continued the alchemist, "is the toenail of a Quantum Perineum."
"What’s that?"
"I don’t know.
"Well I'll find it anyway," declared Soda. "Is that all?"
"Oh, no; I'll get the Encyclopedia Concoctica out and see what comes next."
Saying this, the alchemist unlocked a drawer of his cabinet and drew out a big book covered with veiny leather, and written in blood.
"Is that, like, a bible?" asked Soda.
"Of course not!" snapped the Chimpanzee Alchemist. Looking through the pages he found the recipe he wanted and said: "I must have a shicker of diarrhea from a dark well."
"What kind of a well is that, sir?" asked the girl.
"One where the light of day never penetrates. The diarrhea must be unpenetrated. It must be put in a gold bottle and brought to me without any light ever reaching it."
"I'll get the diarrhea from the dark well," said Soda.
"I must have the antlers from the top of a green jackalope’s head."
Soda had pulled her trusty notepad out of her backpack and was writing all this down.
"Got it," she said.
"And finally," said the alchemist, "A drop of oil from a live man's body."
Soda looked grave at this.
"First of all, what is a jackalope, please?" he inquired.
"Some sort of an antlered yokai. I've never seen one, so I can't describe it," replied the alchemist.
"If I can find a green jackalope, I'll get the antlers from the top of its head," said Soda. "But is there ever any oil in a man's body?"
The Chimpanzee Alchemist looked in the book again, to make sure.
"That's what the recipe calls for," he replied, "and of course we must get everything that is called for, or the concoction won't work. The book doesn't say 'blood'; it says 'oil,' and there must be oil somewhere in a live man's body or the book wouldn't ask for it."
"All right," returned Soda, "I'll try to find it."
The alchemist looked at the Schlingian in a doubtful way and said:
"All this will mean a long and arduous trek for you; perhaps several long treks; for you must search all over Bonertania to get the things I need."
"I know it, sir; but I must do my best to save Uncle Karl. He’s raised me since my parents mysteriously disappeared."
"Do the best you can, Soda, and while you are gone I shall begin the six years' job of making a new batch of Make Living Concoction. Then, if you should unluckily fail to secure any of the things needed, I will have lost no time. But if you succeed you must return here as quickly as you can, and that will save me much tiresome stirring of four kettles with both feet and both hands."
"I will start on my journey at once, sir," said the girl.
"And I will go with you," declared Chunks.
"No, no!" exclaimed the alchemist. "You have no right to leave this dome. You are only a handmaiden and have not been discharged."
Chunks, who had been dancing up and down the room, stopped and looked at him.
"What is a handmaiden?" she asked.
"One who serves. A- a sort of servant," he explained.
"Very well," said Chunks, "I'm going to serve you and your SBD by helping Soda find the stuff you need. You need a lot, you know, such things are not easily found. Piddily-Cum-a-Zound."
"It is true," sighed the addlepated chimp. "I am well aware that Soda the Cursed has undertaken a serious task."
Chunks laughed, and resuming her dance she said:
"Piddily-Cum-a Zains, here's a job for a lady of brains: A drop of oil from a live man's veins; a smelly flower; now feel the strain. Nice antlers from a jackalope's brain, and diarrhea from a pitch-dark vein. The toenail of a perineum must Soda also try to find, and if she gets them without infection, Doc can make the swell concoction."
The Chimpanzee Alchemist looked at her thoughtfully.
"Poor Sheila must have given you some of the quality of poesy, by mistake," he said. "I believe I shall let you go with Soda the Cursed, for my poor SBF will not need your services until she is restored to life. Also I think you may be able to help the girl, for your head seems to contain some thoughts I did not expect to find in it. But be very careful of yourself, for you're a souvenir of my dear Sheila. Try not to rip your stitches or pop your staples, and remember you belong to me and must return here as soon as your mission is accomplished."
Chunks blew a raspberry.
"I'm going with Chunks and Soda," announced the Spork Armadillo. "Three heads are better than two, and my pink brains are beautiful."
"Well, go along," said the alchemist, irritably. "You're only an annoyance, anyhow, and I'm glad to get rid of you."
"Thank you for nothing, then, ya jerk-face," answered the armadillo, haughtily.
The Chimpanzee Alchemist took Soda’s dark blue backpack and packed several jars, mojo bags, and plastic containers in it. Then he handed it to Soda.
"Here is some alien feces and some other stuff," he said. "It is all I can give you, but I am sure you will find friends on your trek who will assist you in your search. Take care of the golem and bring her safely back, for she ought to prove useful to my Sheila. As for the Spork Armadillo- if she bothers you I now give you my permission to slice her in two or stomp on her or grind her up and make sporkburgers out of her, for she is not respectful and does not obey me. I made a mistake in giving her those pink brains, you see."
Then Soda went to the pile of steaming vomit that was once Uncle Karl and kissed it very tenderly.
"I'm going to try to save you, Uncle," she said, as a string of phlegmy vomit stuck to her chin; and then she shook the hand of the Chimpanzee Alchemist, who was already busy hanging the four kettles in the fireplace, and picking up her backpack she left the dome.
Chunks followed her, and after them came the Spork Armadillo. As they left they heard the blender begin freestyle rapping.
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