image [https://i.ibb.co/1dSvqTK/ICchapter09new.jpg]

Next morning they started out bright and early to follow the road toward Schmegma City. The Schlingian tween was beginning to feel tired from the long walk, and she had a great many things to think of and consider besides the events of the journey. At the wonderful Schmegma City, which she would presently reach, were so many strange and curious beings that she was half afraid of meeting them and wondered if they would prove friendly and kind. Above all else, she could not drive from her mind the important errand on which she had come, and she was determined to devote every energy to finding the things that were necessary to prepare the alchemistical concoction. Soda believed that until dear Uncle Karl was restored to life she could feel no joy in anything, and often he wished that her uncle could be with her, to see all the astonishing things she was seeing. But alas Uncle Karl was now a pile of steaming vomit in the dome of the Chimpanzee Alchemist and Soda must not falter in her efforts to save him.

The country through which they were passing was still rocky and deserted, with here and there a berry bush or a fleshtree to break the dreary landscape. Soda noticed one tree, especially, because it had such long, gooey leaves and was so beautiful in its curly-q shape. As she approached it she studied the fleshtree earnestly, wondering if any fruit grew on it, for there are marvelous fruits from twisted trees.

Suddenly Soda became aware that he had been looking at that fleshtree a long time- at least for five minutes- and it had remained in the same position, although the girl had continued to walk steadily on. So she stopped short, and when she stopped, the fleshtree and all the landscape, as well as her companions, moved on before her and left her far behind.

Soda uttered such a cry of astonishment that it aroused Rumplemuss, who also halted. The others then stopped, too, and walked back to Soda.

"What's wrong?" asked the wanderer.

"Why, we're not moving forward a bit, no matter how fast we walk," declared Soda. "Now that we have stopped, we are moving backward! Can't you see? Just notice that rock."

Chunks looked down at her feet and said: "The cobblestones are not moving."

"But the whole road is," answered Soda.

"True; quite true," agreed the Dirty Wanderer. "I know all about the tricks of this road, but I’ve been spacing out and didn't realize where we were."

"It will carry us back to where we started from," predicted Soda, beginning to be nervous.

"No," replied Rumplemuss; "it won't do that, for I know a trick to beat this tricky road. I've traveled this way before, you know. Turn around, all of you, and moonwalk."

"What good will that do?" asked the armadillo.

"You'll find out, if you obey me," said the wanderer.

So they all turned their backs to the direction in which they wished to go and began moonwalking backward. In an instant Soda noticed they were gaining ground and as they proceeded in this curious way they soon passed the fleshtree which had first attracted her attention to their difficulty.

"How long must we keep this up, Rumple?" asked Chunks.

"Just a little way farther," replied the Dirty Wanderer.

A few minutes later he called to them to turn about quickly and step forward, and as they obeyed the order they found themselves treading solid ground.

"That bummer is well over," observed the wanderer. "It's a little tiresome to moonwalk so long, but that is the only way to pass this part of the road, which has a trick of sliding back and carrying with it anyone who is walking upon it. That road is a real jerk-face."

With new courage and energy they now trudged forward and after a time came to a place where the road cut through a low hill, leaving high banks on either side of it. They were traveling along this cut, talking together, when the wanderer seized Chunks with one arm and Soda with another and shouted: "Stop!"

"What's wrong now?" asked Chunks.

"See there!" answered the wanderer, pointing with his roachberry pipe.

Directly in the center of the road lay a motionless orange creature with a bunch of javelin-type spears sticking out of its butt.

"Well, what of it?" asked Chunks.

"That is the Orange Bunion, who causes a lot of trouble along this road," was the reply.

"Bunion! That’s a fun word to say!"

"What is a bunion?" asked Soda.

"I think it is merely an overgrown half-whale/half-porcupine yokai, but here in Bonertania they consider Orange Bunion an evil spirit. He's different from a regular bunion, because he can shoot his quills, which a regular bunion cannot do. That's what makes old Orange Bunion so dangerous. If we get too near, he'll fire those quills at us and hurt us badly."

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"Then we will be foolish to get too near," said Chunks.

"I'm not afraid," declared Gary. "The Orange Bunion is cowardly, I'm sure, and if it ever heard my awful, terrible, frightful growl, it would be scared stiff."

"Oh; can you growl?" asked the Dirty Wanderer as he tugged his pants and underpants out of his buttcrack.

"My growl makes an earthquake throw up and the thunder doo-doo in its pants. If I growled at that creature you call the Orange Bunion, it would immediately think Sifillis had cracked in two and bumped against the sun and moon, and that would cause the monster to run as far and as fast as its legs could carry it."

"In that case," said the Dirty Wanderer, "you are now able to do us all a great favor. Please growl."

"But you forget," returned the green jackalope; "my tremendous growl would also frighten you, and if you happen to have heart disease you might expire."

"True; but we must take that risk," decided Rumplemuss, bravely. "Being warned of what is to occur we must try to bear the terrific noise of your growl; but the Orange Bunion won't expect it, and it will scare him away."

Gary hesitated.

"I'm fond of you all, and I hate to shock you," it said. "You may be made deaf."

"Piddily-Cum-a-Zoo, we will forgive you," said Chunks.

"Very well, then," said the green jackalope in a determined voice, and advanced a few steps toward the Orange Bunion. Pausing to look back, it asked: "All ready?"

"All ready!" they answered.

"Then cover up your ears and brace yourselves firmly. Now, then- look out!"

Gary turned toward the bunion, opened wide its mouth and squeaked:

"Quee-ee-ee-eef!"

"Go ahead and growl," said Soda.

"Why, I- I did growl!" retorted the green jackalope, who seemed much astonished.

"What, that little squeak?" Soda cried.

"It is the most awful growl that ever was heard anywhere on Sifillis!" protested the jackalope. "I wonder you stood the shock so well. Didn't you feel the ground tremble? I suppose the bunion is now quite dead with fright."

The wanderer laughed merrily.

"Poor jackalope!" said he; "your growl wouldn't scare a baby dung beetle."

Gary seemed to be humiliated and surprised. He hung its head a moment, as if in shame or sorrow, but then it said with renewed confidence: "Anyhow, my eyes can shoot lazers, and good lazers, too; good enough to set fire to a fence!"

"That is true," declared Soda; "I saw it done myself."

"But your ferocious growl isn't as loud as the tick of a zipperfly," said the Spork Armadillo. "Or one of Soda's snores when she's fast asleep."

"Oh, ha ha," said Soda, sarcastically.

"Perhaps," said the green jackalope, humbly, "I have been mistaken about my growl. It has always sounded very fearful to me, but that may have been because it was so close to my ears."

"Never mind," Soda said soothingly; "it is a great talent to be able to shoot lazers from your eyes. Once a month. No one else can do that."

As they stood hesitating what to do the Orange Bunion turned around and with a loud farting noise a shower of quills came flying toward them, almost filling the air, they were so many. Chunks realized in an instant that they had gone too near to the bunion for safety, so she sprang in front of Soda and shielded her from the darts, which stuck their points into her own body until she resembled one of those targets they shoot arrows at in archery games.

Rumplemuss the Dirty Wanderer dropped flat on his face to avoid the shower, but one quill struck him in the leg and went far in. As for the Spork Armadillo, she ducked behind the green jackalope and the fur of the jackalope was so thick and tough that he was not hurt at all.

When the attack was over first Soda ran to Rumplemuss, who was moaning and groaning, and she promptly pulled the quill out of his leg. Then she ran to Chunks and began to help her pull the quills from her chunkwork body.

Then up Rumplemuss jumped and limped over to the Orange Bunion and sat on it, holding it prisoner. The body of the great bunion was now as smooth as a baby’s bottom, except for the holes in his butt where the quills had been, for it had shot every single quill in that one nefarious shower. Each quill hole was leaking a gloppy greenish-yellow liquid."Let me go!" it shouted angrily. "How dare you put your stinky butt on the Orange Bunion?"

"I'm going to do worse than that, old boy," replied the wanderer while farting. "You have annoyed travelers on this road long enough, and now I shall put an end to you."

"You can't!" returned the Orange Bunion. "Nothing can kill me, as you know perfectly well."

"Perhaps that is true," said the wanderer in a tone of disappointment. "Seems to me I've been told before that you can't be killed. But if I let you go, what will you do?"

"Pick up my quills again," said the bunion in a droopy voice.

"And then shoot them at more travelers? No; that won't do. You must promise me to stop throwing quills at people."

"I won't promise anything of the sort," declared the bunion.

"Why not?"

"Because it is my nature to throw quills, and every being must do what nature intends it to do. It isn't fair for you to blame me. If it were wrong for me to throw quills, then I wouldn't be made with quills to throw. The proper thing for you to do is to keep out of my way."

"Why, there's some sense in that argument," admitted Rumplemuss, thoughtfully; "but people who are strangers, and don't know you are here, won't be able to keep out of your way."

"Tell you what," said Chunks, who was pulling the quills out of her own body, "let's gather up all the quills and take them away with us; then old Mr. Bunion won't have any left to throw at people."

"Ah, that's a clever idea. You and Soda must gather up the quills while I hold the Orange Bunion a prisoner; for, if I let him go, he will get some of his quills and be able to throw them again."

So Chunks and Soda picked up all the quills and tied them in a bundle so they might easily be carried. After this the wanderer stood up, released the bunion and let him go, knowing that he was harmless to injure anyone.

"It's the meanest trick I ever heard of," muttered the orange yokai gloomily. "How would you like it, Crumb-plemuss, if I took all your roachberries away from you?"

"If I threw my berries and hurt people, you would be welcome to capture them," was the reply.

Then they walked on and left the Orange Bunion standing in the road sullen and disconsolate. The Dirty Wanderer limped as he walked, for his wound still hurt him, and Chunks was much annoyed because the quills had left a number of holes in her chunks.

So now they went on again and coming presently to a pond of muddy yellow water they tied a heavy stone to the bundle of quills and sunk it to the bottom of the pond, to avoid carrying it farther.

image [https://i.ibb.co/QKrF2k7/109SMALL.jpg]