We eventually came to a door in the wall.

It was unlike every other door I'd seen in the Torture Labyrinth.

It had a certain aura of grandiosity to it, as if every being that had ever opened it did so with a certain level of integrity and dignity.

The bug crawled under the door.

“Come in!” it said from inside.

I tried the doorknob.

It was unlocked.

“It’s-” I said as I walked into the room.

The room was regularly sized, the shape of a very average rectangular prism. It had an open doorway in the right wall.

Inside was a normal looking table. The only thing unusual about it was that it seemed to be missing chairs.

I walked in and closed the door.

“Welcome,” I heard a voice say.

“Thanks for having me,” I said.

“It is our pleasure,” the voice said.

I saw no one else in the room.

I looked down for the bug, but it was gone.

“Please, have a seat,” the voice said.

I took a seat on the ground.

“Thanks for having me,” I said again.

There was some frantic whispering, and then the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor.

The chair seemed to drag itself in from the doorway. It made its way towards me, and I sat down in it.

There was some laboured wheezing as the chair pushed me into the table.

“Welcome,” the voice said again.

“Thanks for having me,” I said a third time.

“It is our pleasure,” the voice said again.

I then noticed a small figure on the table across from me.

As soon as I noticed it, I noticed a hundred other small figures milling around on the table, on the ground, and on the walls around me.

They were bugs.

“I suppose you’re wondering why we brought you here…” the bug on the table said.

“Not really,” I said.

“...you see, it all started a thousand years ago…” it launched into a speech.

“I see,” I said, and began to pick at the table.

I zoned out for an indeterminate amount of time.

“...and after he was crucified, well, we’d just about had it, you see…”

“Sorry?” I said, zoning back in.

“...but then he-” it stopped. “What?”

“Who was crucified?”

The bug looked indignant.

As much as a bug can look indignant, of course.

“Haven’t you been paying attention to anything I’ve said?” the bug asked.

“Not really,” I said.

The bug sighed.

“Listen, here’s the long and short of it-”

I listened.

“…we’re the Union for Escaping the Torture Labyrinth, UFETL, for short…”

“I what?”

“...and we’ve brought you here because- what?”

“I fettle?”

It looked me up and down.

“Well, I suppose you might…”

“Ah.”

“...but that’s not important right now. What’s important is this: we need you to-”

“What’s in there?”

I pointed to the doorway.

The bug looked at the doorway.

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“Nothing,” it said.

There was some shuffling from the other room.

“What was that?” I asked the bug.

“It’s nothing. Listen-” it started.

At that moment, a figure came out from behind the door frame.

I was astonished to see a small, green, humanoid creature with a squinched up face.

I was even more astonished to realize that I recognized it.

----------------------------------------

It was Grungleby.

It looked a thousand years older than when I had last seen it.

“You- you’re alive?” I stuttered as I stood in amazement.

It smiled weakly and nodded as it walked into the room.

“Yes, I’m alive…” it began.

It moved slowly across the room towards me, and sat down in the chair.

“...but much has happened.”

I stared, still standing in amazement.

“But- but how?” I stammered out.

It smiled weakly again.

“Change is the nature of things, my friend.”

“No- I mean, how are you alive?”

“Oh-”

It stopped and looked at itself.

"Well, I suppose I haven’t died yet, have I?”

“I thought you’d have been torn to shreds! By those men! Those muscular men!”

“Oh,” it chuckled, “those men. No, no, I was never torn to shreds by them, you see.”

“Oh,” I said sullenly, “but you were torn to shreds, then.”

It smiled warmly.

“No, no…”

I relaxed.

“...I was never torn to shreds. Come, sit down…”

I sat down in my chair, found it to be much further down than I originally thought, and then found myself sitting on the floor.

“...you see, it all started when you drank my…” it started from the chair.

“I see,” I said, and began to pick at the floor.

I zoned out again.

“...dragged away by those muscular men…” I heard.

I zoned back in.

“Sorry?” I said.

It smiled slightly.

“I was just saying…”

“Yes?”

“...how you were dragged away by those muscular men and flagellated for eternity. After drinking what was in my cupboard and carving that frightful thing into my table, of course.”

I looked closer at the creature.

“Greebles?” I said.

“Yes?”

“Oh- sorry, I thought-”

“Yes?”

I looked closer at it.

“Never mind.”

It looked at me strangely.

“Anyway, I was about to say…”

“Yes?”

“...we at the union are in desperate need of someone to escape.”

“Oh,” I said, “to escape from where?”

“To Escape…”

It paused.

“...The Torture Labyrinth!” it boomed.

I thought about it.

“Yes…”

“Yes?”

“...I suppose that is a good idea. Having someone escape, and all.”

“Yes,” it said, “and we think you’re the perfect person for it.”

I stopped.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why me?”

“Well, you want to, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I thought about it, “I suppose I do.”

“Well, there you go.”

“Ah.”

“But first-”

“But first,” the bug interrupted, “we need you to find something.”

“Someone, even,” Greebles peppered in.

I looked at the two of them.

They looked at each other, and then looked back at me.

“We need you to find…” they crescendoed in unison.

I waited patiently.

“Grungleby,” Greebles said.

“Gary,” the Bug said.

“Gormald,” a third voice pronounced loudly.

----------------------------------------

There was a collective gasp in the room.

I whipped around.

There was no one there.

“Who said that?” I asked.

“Down here,” the voice said.

I looked down.

There was a bug on the floor.

As I looked, I noticed the hundred other bugs milling around on the floor.

Some were fastidiously carrying crumbs from point A to N, some were fastidiously marching from point N to T, and others appeared to be fastidiously loafing about.

“Sorry, I meant up,” the voice said.

I looked up.

I was astonished.

It was the bug from before.

“It’s you!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, it’s me…” the bug on the ceiling began.

“What…” the bug on the table cried, “are you doing here?”

“Kill it!” a bug on the ground screamed.

“Grind it into a paste!” another yelled out.

“Who’s that?” Greebles asked me.

“It’s the bug! From before!” I explained slowly and rationally.

Greebles looked at me strangely.

“I thought you ground that guy into a paste?” it said.

“Oh- no, the bug from the Chamber of Never- er, Unending Flagellation.”

“Oh,” Greebles looked at the bug on the ceiling.

“...well, why don’t you fly on up here and say that to my- oh, wait!” it lobbed to a bug on the ground.

There was much rabble rousing amongst the bugs below.

“What’s it doing here?” Greebles asked.

“You know,” I thought about it, “I’m not too sure.”

“...oh, believe me, I will, and you’d better believe it…” it tossed to another.

The rabble grew more roused.

“What are you doing here?” I asked the bug.

The bug from before, that is.

It looked at me as if I had pulled it away from something that was endlessly entertaining, like shooting fish in a barrel.

“Oh-” it regained its composure, “yes, I came here to tell you…”

“Yes?”

“...if you want to Escape the Torture Labyrinth…”

“Mm-hmm...”

“...you need to find…”

I nodded.

“...Gormald!”

“Gormald?” I asked.

“Yes, Gormald!”

“Why Gorm-”

“Pay no attention to the bug on the ceiling,” the bug on the table yelled, “you only need to find Gary!”

“No!” Greebles shouted, “Grungleby!”

“Gormald!”

“Grungleby!”

“Gary!”

“Gorm-”

“Enough!” I cried, “let me think!”

“Oh, great,” the bug on the table muttered.

I thought.

Everyone waited expectantly.

I thought of Gormald, the terrifying, pale mountain of a man, and his penchant for lunging.

I thought of Gary and his schemes and plots. I pictured him chuckling and steepling his fingers.

I thought of Grungleby, and its smile. I thought of our first meeting and our time at Torture Fest, and I thought of its cries as it was dragged away by those men.

Those muscular men.

I looked at the group, my decision made.

“I’m going to find…”

They bated their breaths.

“...G-” was all I managed to say before everything went dark.

----------------------------------------

There was a high-pitched ringing, a bright light, and a terrible headache.

The words, “...I know, but you didn’t have to hit ‘em that hard…” swam around my head.

“Urgh…” I groaned.

“Oh- quick! Before they see you!” a voice said hurriedly.

There was some pittering that faded into pattering.

I sat up, holding my head.

“Urgh…” I said again.

“Hey, there,” Greebles’ face said, inches from mine, “how ya feeling?”

I looked around.

“What was that?”

“‘Hey, there, how ya feeling?’”

“Oh- no, what happened? Did someone hit me?”

Greebles hesitated as it looked over my shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it.”

I looked behind me.

“Oh,” I said, "okay."

“Come on, sit down.”

I winced as Greebles pulled me up and sat me down in the chair.

“Now…” it leveled a serious gaze.

“Hm?” I rubbed my head, still dazed.

“...who are you going to find?”

This brought me back.

“Grungleby,” I said, looking Greebles in the eye.

Greebles suppressed a smile.

The bug on the table groaned.

The bug on the ceiling was busy jousting with the bugs on the floor.

“Now…” I leveled a slightly less serious gaze.

“Hm?”

“...how do I get out of this place?”

“There’s a door out back…”

It trailed off, looking behind me again.

I looked at Greebles expectantly.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Did you open that door?”

It pointed at the door I came in through.

I looked behind me.

“Yeah.”

Greebles looked slightly put out.

"Hm," it said.

“What is it?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just make sure you leave out back.”

“Oh,” I said as I got up, “okay.”

“Oh- and before you do…”

“Hm?” I stopped.

“...I believe this belongs to you.”

Greebles held out the fork.

“Oh, right-” I took it, “thank you.”

“Real Pavlov’s fork, huh?”

“What?”

“The guy?"

It looked at me expectantly.

"With the gun?”

I looked at the fork.

It had rusted a good bit.

“What?”

“Never mind- don’t worry about it.”

“Oh,” I said, “okay.”

“Well!” Greebles clapped me on the lower back, “Good luck, and all that!”

“Yes, thanks for helping me escape, I suppose.”

“Our pleasure,” he said agreeably.

“Thanks for having me,” I said to the bug a fourth time.

“Thanks for coming,” it said sourly.

“It was nice to see you,” I said to the bug on the ceiling.

“Hm? Oh- yes, great to see you!” it waved to me, “good luck escaping!”

I thought about this as I walked out the back.

I decided not to worry about it.