Gears Loose

Hey Peeps. Sorry for being gone for so long. I had stuff to work on. I'm moving. Any who's, let's pick up where I left off.

Where was that? . . .OH YEAH! Blot…Pete…Tour of Wasteland



"I cannot buh-lieve thuh damage Petetronic caused!" A maroon suited, yellow capped gremlin fumed, flittering into the Notilus sink yard. "Jus' look at this!" He frothed at the dismantled Notilus. The rotary propeller was yanked from its place, gears were missing from the inner mechanisms, and the engine block was gone. "Ya know it took me weeks tah upgrade this hunk o' metal!" He fumed to the two other gremlins standing beside him. "AND PETETRONIC JUS' TEARS IT O'SUNDER LIKE ITS TISSUE PAPER!"

"Calm yourself, Sparks." A French accented gremlin placed his hands to Sparks' shoulders. "We will fix it again, Mon Ami. Only this time we will use that indestructible scrap metal we have in storage."

"That metal is low in stock, Jamface." Sparks warned his mechanically astute partner. "Possibly…" He calculated quickly in his head, "300 scraps. Three quarters of that needs to go to…" He reviewed a list of inventory and projects he kept, "The windmill, the shops, and to Gus and Prescott so they can fix up some things in Ostown. We will have to plot this carefully before beginning reconstruction."

The last gremlin drew out a blueprint for the Notilus. He studied the inner mechanisms and jotted down notes of the more special parts. The parts which, if strengthened, would prevent the Notilus from being sabotaged. "We shuid use th' metal oan only th' mair intricate bits o' th' sub." He decreed in his Scottish accent. "If we fin' th' rotary propeller, motor, 'n' engine, we kin uise th' metal oan them."

"Sounds like a plan, Markus." Jamface praised his cousin with a pat to his shoulder. "Alright…" Jamface hovered into the air, scanning the area. "The engine is up there." He pointed to the large semi-spherical tiled stone formation with the platforms protruding from their places. "Why don't you look for the-" A ball of thinner exploded onto his back. "GAH!" Jamface screamed in pain, falling to the ground.

"JAMFACE!" Sparks and Markus cried out. They whipped around to see where the ball came from. Balls of thinner exploded in their faces, blowing the two Gremlins to the ground. Their bodies melted away a small ways, rendering them unconscious.

Malicious chuckles growing into loud, boisterous cackles erupted in the sink yard. The hefty body of Petetronic trudged bouncingly to the fallen gremlins. His hands were on his hips as his enormous gut bounced with his laughter. Petetronic set three large mason jars on the ground, then pinched one of the horns on Markus's head. "Dis is gonna be fun."


Leading Cecelia by the hand, Ortensia was the first to emerge from the projector near Mean Street Station. Cecelia stumbled to her knees, finding herself a little disoriented from leaping through a Mary-Poppins based picture. Not to mention she was still a little exhausted from the ordeal they faced moments ago. The hoard of Blotlings invading Dark Beauty Castle, the shock she took to her head. It was equal to the boot camp Yensid put her through for making his breakfast utensils dance

Gus, Prescott, Oswald, and Mickey leapt out of the projector soon after them. Mickey and Ortensia helped Cecelia to her feet. She massaged her whirling head, shaking her body right to the tip of her black cat tail. When she gazed out ahead, her crimson eyes widened in awe. "WOW!" She marveled in amazement. A bright blue sky with fluffy white clouds glided over the lively town. People in the form of cows, dogs, and horses, sauntered on with their daily lives. Shops ranging from a haberdasher to an ice cream parlor, blue sky and cloud painted wooden walls surrounding around the town. "It's like an amusement park." She beamed, her tail wagging.

"It was actually modeled after the original park." Gus elucidated proudly. "With Oswald's designs," He draped his arm around the gloomy Prescott, "And the mechanical know-how of us Gremlins," Gus cast his hand over their utopia of a home, "A land was created where forgotten toons can live peaceful and happy lives."

"This place looks better than the last time I was here." Mickey marveled. "Everything's fixed up, repaired, and looking fresh and new." He glanced up to the sky, relishing in the sunlight. "Even the sky looks refreshed."

"Much has changed since you were last here Mickey." Oswald announced, placing a hand to Mickey's shoulder. "We're rebuilding our lives. And The Blot and Mad Doc aren't going to ruin it."

"It really shows." Cecelia beamed, clapping her hands together. "I may not have been here before, but it's obvious you guys have been putting your heart into it." She marveled at the sheen of the town. The happiness of the people and reconstructed town glistened. "This place is amazing!" She smiled to the town before her, loving the happy-go-lucky atmosphere. "And it looks like fun."

"YES!" Prescott scoffed loudly. "Being forgotten is oodles of fun." He hissed with a wriggle of his fingers.

Cecelia sneered her nose. "I meant the park, glitch for brains!" She bit her lip in an attempt to not lash out. "I'm surprised ANYONE could forget a sour old goat like you!" She failed miserably. Gus slapped a palm to his face. They couldn't last another five minutes. "OW!"

Prescott had her by the ear. "WATCH YOUR TONE, KITTEN!" Cecelia grabbed his horn and yanked. "YOW!"

"OR WHAT, POPS?!" Prescott tripped her feet from under her, tackling her to the ground. "GET OFF ME, NERD!" She kicked him, flipping on top and grabbing him by the horns. "I'll rip your horns right from your head!"

"GO AHEAD AND TRY, WITCH!" Prescott shoved a hand into her face, pushing forward and bringing her to the ground. He yanked on her ears. "I'LL RIP THESE EARS RIGHT OFF!"

Mickey, Ortensia, and Oswald watched in shock and awe. Classical furious cat and rabid dog noises echoed from the combative cartoon cloud. "Well that escalated quickly." Oswald remarked.

Gus slapped a hand to her irked face. He checked his little pocket watch. "At least they made it past the five minute mark." He found the bright side to a small accomplishment. "Five and a half minutes have passed since their last altercation."

Cecelia smashed Prescott's head into the ground over and over again. "OW! OW! OW!" He wailed with each impact. Cecelia bit down on the top of his head, snarling like a rabid lion. "AH-HA-OW!"

"Ooh…" Mickey cringed.

Prescott quickly turned the tables and sat himself on her lower back. He yanked her tail with sharp force. "YEOW!" She spasmed. "YEOW! OW! HEY! OW!" Prescott then took the tail and bit down. Tears came to the corners Cecelia's eyes. "MEEEEOOOOOWWWWW!"

"AH!" Ortensia shrieked, hands to her cheeks. Oswald covered her eyes.

"YOU STUPID-" Cecelia flipped herself around, rolling onto Prescott. The Gremlin countered and rolled onto her. The two wrestled and rolled violently, tumbling down the brick constructed ramp into the streets of Mean Street. Propping themselves up on the ledge of the wall, Gus, Ortensia, Oswald, and Mickey watched as the two bounced along the street. Prescott and Cecelia attracted attention. Adelle and Seth snapped a few photos. Other people scratched their heads, wondering what was wrong.

"WATCH OUT!" Mickey cried out. But it was too late.

Prescott and Cecelia, so engrossed in their brawl, ran full force into the large gut of someone wearing blue overalls. Their faces were smushed like pancakes. Mickey and the others cringed, moaning as they felt the impact. Prescott and Cecelia crumbled to the ground, groaning dazedly. "Well, well, well," An obnoxiously gravelly, rumbling voice thundered, "What do we got here?" Large hands grabbed Cecelia and Prescott by the backs of their collars, hoisting them into the air. Mickey and the others ran to the street, sprinting for Prescott and Cecelia. "Genius Gremlin Prescott wrastl'n with…a wittle kitten cat." The person cooed.

"Ugh…" Cecelia groaned. Her head wobbled with orbiting bubbles. She shook her head, erasing the bubbles. "HUH!" Cecelia gawked in horror of the person holding her and Prescott. It was a huge…dog looking cat with a dorky brown hat on his head. His face was scraggly. "The powers that be…" Cecelia gasped in utter disgust.

"HEY ORTENSIA!" The cat called as Ortensia and the boys skid to a halt. The cat held Cecelia out, "Dis girl here a relative of yers?"

"No, Big Bad Pete!" She waved her hands feverishly. "She's a friend!" She brought Mickey forward, "She came here with Mickey!" Mickey waved nervously with a weak smile.

"Well, well," B.B. Pete leaned forward with a menacing grin, "If it ain't Mickey da Mouse!" He announced with adulated disdain. "You bring'n house pets to our fair place o' residence now?"

"HOUSE PET?" Cecelia blurted, electricity surging between her ears. B.B. Pete didn't notice.

"Ohh dear!" Prescott trembled, cowering under his head.

Cecelia thrashed in his hold, trying to kick and punch him. Only air. "WHO YOU CALL'N A HOUSE PET, YOU PEG LEGGED SACK OF LARD?"

"WHAT?" Pete dropped Prescott on his butt. Gus grabbed him and pulled him to safety. Pete smashed his nose into hers. "Who do you think yer insult'n, runt?" He growled. He pointed a thumb proudly to himself, "Don'tcha realize I'm da muscle of dis here world?" He prodded her chest, "I should turn you into a pretzel for dis A-FORN-TATION!"

"IT'S PRONOUNCED AFFRONT, STUPID!" She kicked him in the nose. It honked.

"YOW!" Pete held his nose.

"NOW PUT ME DOWN!" She jabbed a finger for the ground.


"BIG BAD!" Ortensia raised her hands to him. "STOP!" She jumped up and down. "Cecelia's here to help us!" She stated. B.B. Pete brought his confused attention to her. "She came with Mickey to help us with our troubles!"

B.B. Pete thought about it for a moment. He looked from Cecelia to Mickey and back to Cecelia again. "PAH-HA-HA!" He cackled vocally. Saliva sprinkled onto Cecelia's face. "DIS LITTLE RUNT HERE?" He swung Cecelia derisively, pointing at her. "What she gonna do? Kick da Doc in da knee caps?" Cecelia growled irately. "HA! OR-OR," A fire lit under B.B. Pete's butt, "Or cry until da Blot melts under her liters of tears?" A thin stream of smoke rose from his hind quarters. Mickey, Prescott and the others gawked and gritted their teeth. "Yeah! REAL HELP! HA-HA-HA!" Cecelia furrowed her brow. The fire spanned. The stream grew into a chimney stack of smoke. "WHOO!" B.B. Pete panted, regaining his breath.

"Huh?" He sniffed the air. "You guys smell someth'n cook'n?" Fingers pointed to him. Cecelia smiled and pointed to behind him. Big Bad twisted around. Embers were eating away at his overalls, burning his butt. "YYYYOOOOWWW!" Big Bad roared, tossing Cecelia into the air. "OW BUTT!" He scrambled about, patting his enflamed butt. "OW BUTT! OWIE-OWIE BUTT!" Prescott listlessly held his arms out to the side. Cecelia fell into arms casually. The two admired her handiwork with dark smirks. "MAKE WAY!" Pete stampeded in circles around the square. "COM'N THROUGH!" A cloud of smoke trailed behind him. "BUTT ON FIRE!" Fire engine sirens sounded in the air. The little bunny children hopped along with a pale of water on their backs. Big Bad leapt in the air. The bunny children dropped the pale and scattered. Big Bad's butt landing directly into the pale. Steam hissed from under him. "Ahh…" He sighed with relief.

Oswald and Mickey fall back to back, laughing so hard they could barely stand. Ortensia and Gus held their stomachs and mouths, trying to stifle their laughter at Pete's expense.

"My, my," Prescott chortled, "How the tables have turned." He and Cecelia smirked victoriously with their hands on their hips. "Looks like Big Bad finally felt the heat of karma." He boasted. "Nice work." He congratulated.

Cecelia curtsied, "Thank you."

"YOU THINK YER SOOO SMART! DONTCHA?" Big Bad warned, waddling with the bucket stuck to his behind. "DON'T GO PATT'N YERSELVES ON DA BACK!" He roared. Prescott and Cecelia tensed their bodies, preparing for Big Bad to lash out. "LEAST OF ALL YOU," He jabbed his finger into Prescott' nose, "PRESCOTT!"

"PUH!" He shoved the finger away. "Why on Wasteland should I not be happy?" He questioned defiantly. "You all complain that I'm grumpy! Now that I'm happy, you want me to pick another dwarf!" Cecelia sputtered, lurching forward as she giggled. Prescott took pride in her finding him funny.

"You know does dare projectors yer SO proud of?"

"Yes…?" Prescott hummed cautiously. Cecelia arched a brow.

"Well dey ain't work'n!" Big Bad boasted snidely with a chuckle. "Dey flat BUSTED!"

"WHAT?" Prescott spontaneously vanished into thin air, startling Cecelia and Ortensia.

"PAH-HA-HA!" Big Bad cackled loudly, waddling to the city hall.

"Where'd he go?" Cecelia asked ignoring Pete's loud laughter.

"Projector Square! Over by the Walt statue!" Gus pointed down the street. Cecelia saw a dark dot ricocheting around a statue. "COME ON!"


Isolating himself into the lab in the vault, The Mad Doctor cackled darkly as he prodded the forehead of a ghoul blot with an electric welding pen. (Never knew what that tool was called) "Ooh-hoo-hoo!" He continued to cackle to himself from under his welding mask. "Perfect! Absolutely Perfect!" He grabbed one of the chips he had sitting in a pan beside the ghoul. "This will be delicious." He squealed, placing the chip to the Ghoul's forehead.

"As it should be." The Mad Doctor halted his experiment. He flipped up his welding mask, being greeted by the legless Blot. He had yet to regain his legs after a mishap with Cecelia. "Petetronic has made his move." He reported. "They should be stalled for a considerable amount of time."

"Good!" The Mad Doctor removed the mask from his head, placing it on the floor. "Just enough time to test my new toys." He caressed a finger on the chip in the forehead of the Ghoul. The Ghoul Blot opened its bright eyes, screeching in exhaustion. "I do not need those rodents or their little feline pet messing up my plans!" He pushed the ghoul from the table, sending it on its way.

"Speaking of the Feline Child," The Blot stroked a hand over his Ghoul as it left the vault, "Have you discovered a way to neutralize our little magician?"

The Mad Doctor grunt irksomely. He slapped his hand into the pan, grabbed the only remaining chip. "Unfortunately I have not." He grumbled, prodding the chip with his shock pen. "I know very little about her brand of magic." He put the pen down. "Though I can say with certainty her magic is not in the same category as the Turps and Tints." He held the chip in front of him, blowing the steam away. "They are magic born of the natural forces. Our feline, I suspect, is simply able to channel those forces." The red and black chip gleamed fresh and new. "One cannot build a defense out of sticks if the invaders are a stampede of bulls."

"Forgive me if I do not comprehend the meaning of your metaphor."

"Even if I repel the witch with whatever I have, she may be able to barrel through it." He elucidated impatiently. "It will serve us best if we study her just as we've done the mouse." The Blot nodded his head in comprehension. The Mad Doctor's logic held merit. Unless they learn more, the girl could prove to be more of a threat than the mouse. "Here," The Mad Doctor tossed the Blot his only remaining chip, "Attach this to your chest." It was different from all the others. The chip had the same red and black color scheme, but it was shaped more like a shield than a beetle. The Blot placed it to his inky chest. It sank under his skin, being swallowed up by his oozing body. Little tentacle like cables extended from the top corners and the bottom point, wrapping around the pulsating green orb hiding within the Blot. The tips of the cables wriggled into the back of the orb, connecting to him. As sharp pain ruptured. The Blot grunted uncomfortably, clenching his chest. "Think of that as the heart of my experiment." The Mad Doctor boasted, rubbing his hands together hungrily. "It will be the key to your revitalization."

"If it does not kill me first." The Blot grumbled. The pain almost immediately faded. He could feel the beat of his soul syncing with the pulses of the shield. "And not that I do not find this clever," The Blot cleared his throat, "Please bear in mind that our little friends are only stalled. The longer you take to play with your toys, the more time they are given weed through our little labyrinth."

"Oh ye of little faith." The Mad Doctor chortled mockingly. "Have you forgotten my side trip?" He teased. The Blot folded his arms defensively, raising a brow. He was not in the mood for riddles. "I did not propose Mickey Junk Mountain for nothing." He hummed maliciously. He picked a remote from his coat pocket and pressed a red button. His Beetleworx creations started to cause a ruckus, tossing his stuff all about, putting it into suitcases. The Blot smirked victoriously as the lab was being cleared away. The Mad Doctor cackled triumphantly, shuffling his rubbing gloved hands together. "Our little friends will be crestfallen by the time they reach my lab."


Back at the Projector Square

"THIS IS-HOW DID-IMPOSSIBLE!" Prescott sputtered, bouncing from one black projector screen to the other. He shook the screens violently, banged his wrench on the stands, and went so far as to call them names. The only one working was Ostown. "How could this have happened?" Prescott panicked, ripping out his hair. If he had any. "WHO WOULD DO THIS TO MY CREATIONS?" Cecelia and the others came running up to the Walt Statue. Horror filled gasps shrieked. Cecelia was a little surprised. She's only seen one projector and saw a Mickey Mouse picture. These ones were blank.

Prescott was frothing at the mouth. Steam whistled from his ears. He bounced on his head, circling the Walt statue while leaving impressions in the ground. Cecelia leaned in toward Oswald and whispered, "Why is Prescott Spontaneously Combusting?" Prescott would scream and ignite on fire. When he had to breathe in is when the flames would quell.

"He invented the projectors." Oswald answered. "He takes great pride in them." Prescott took off his glove and started gnawing at it. "And sort of falls apart when they are tampered with."

Cecelia gaped with exclamation points and question marks blipping around her head. Gus and Mickey restrained Prescott by the arm. He thrashed about with raging swirls in his eyes, muttering incoherently. He looked like a Chihuahua frothing whipped cream. Cecelia studied the projectors closely. All she could see is that the pictures were blacked out. "What happened to the projectors, anyway?"


Oswald, Mickey, and Gus gaped in fright. Even the projector they needed – Bog Easy – was out of order. "How are we going to get to the Mad Doc's lab now?" Oswald wheezed.

"He probably did this to delay us!" Ortensia hissed.

"Can't more be made?" Cecelia asked.

Prescott wrenched himself from Mickey and Gus's grip. "It took me a year to make those!" He snarled, insulted his work was tampered with. "And it took just as long to make the projectors!"

"Wow." Cecelia gaped. "You work hard."

"Understatement!" Prescott spat.

"Surely you have replacements." Ortensia hoped.

"Not likely. After the thinner disaster much of my equipment was lost." He announced regretfully. "Including what I use to make the projectors."

"Does that mean you can't fix them?" Gus asked fretfully.

"Oh no. I can fix them. But we'll have to recover the gears." Prescott assured them.

"Maybe the doc hid them in plain sight." Mickey suggested. "Ostown and Mean Street are the only accessible places."

"Then let's search where we can." Oswald decreed. "Mickey, Ortensia, and I will ask around Mean Street. You three see what you can find out in Ostown."

"Aye-Aye Captain!" Gus saluted. Oswald waved them off and ran into the town. Mickey and Ortensia followed after him.

Prescott was so distracted by the projectors he didn't notice everyone had split off into teams. He was still perplexed by how the Mad Doctor could have taken the reels. Least of all without anyone noticing. Cecelia found herself in awe of Walt Disney's statue. She'd never met him in person, but she's heard many stories about him from Yensid. She felt honored to be in front of his statue.

"Alright troops!" Gus rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation. Cecelia and Prescott jumped in shock. "Shall we get this investigation started?"

As if on cue of the impending doom, Cecelia and Prescott glanced sideways to one another. Then they shrugged nonchalantly. "Alright." The two meandered for the Ostown Projector. Gus was baffled by their compliance. In the last hour they've thrown everything at one another, except the kitchen sink, for simply glancing improperly. Now…they're getting along? Oh well. Gus shrugged mentally. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.


The bells on shops rang incessantly. Mickey, Ortensia, and Oswald ran throughout all of Mean Street, ricocheting from one shop to the next. People walking in the streets were confronted. Even the Bunny Children were asked if they noticed anything. So far nothing was out of the ordinary. Which the three found odd. Considering they risked life and limb to get out of Dark Beauty castle.

Ortensia searched the Museum, City Hall, and the Fire House. She asked many of the patrons if they saw the film reel gear for the projectors. Her search yielded nothing. No one's really noticed anything out of the ordinary. They only realized something was wrong with the projectors when their friends hadn't returned from the other regions.

Before she could leave to continue her search, Laralee the Museum Owner asked Ortensia if she had seen Gremlin Sparks anywhere. He was fixing the pedestal for the 12 Spirits of Wasteland before he was called by Jamface. That was over an hour ago. No one's seen him since.

Ortensia shook her head. She had just barely gotten into town herself. She wouldn't notice the ice cream parlor missing. Laralee asked Ortensia if she wouldn't mind reminding asking Sparks to return to his project when she sees him. She needs him to finish up. The leftovers from his project and the E-Tickets she owes him will go to fixing up his forge. Ortensia promised she would tell him.


Oswald asked Horace, Casey the Ice Cream man, and Adelle and Jack at the Photographer's shop. Horace and Casey hadn't really noticed anything out of the ordinary. Adelle and Jack didn't see the projectors go down. But they did hear something strange before they heard the ruckus from the Haberdasher. Apparently his hippo and moose entered Ventureland and haven't come back. Anyway, the two heard the strangest sound. Metal…breaking…and a gargling squabble. But that was it. Oswald tapped his little chin. The gargling squabble sounds like the sounds a spatter would make. But the metal breaking? Could that have been the gear?

Jack Kelly stopped Oswald from leaving the shop. He wondered if Oswald could go to Ostown if he had the time. Markus was picking up little scraps of metal for a special camera Jack was making. He was scooped up by Sparks in a hurry. Telling him that Jamface needed their help with something urgent. The camera wasn't too important. It was just something he and Markus had been working on for a while. The parts would most likely be in a little container. A lunch box. He usually left their parts with the train conductor in the town.

Oswald didn't mind. He may have to stop by Ostown later on in the day, but he wouldn't mind delivering the parts. Jack thanked the Rabbit, and realty appreciated his help.


To Mickey's surprise, he had better luck with his search. The Train Conductor hadn't seen anything, but he does remember hearing one of the manhole covers to the underground slamming down. It slammed down hard.

The Haberdasher and Seth held bountiful information. Mostly because an altercation broke out between the two. Seth was being shoved out of Haberdasher's store for…saying the fuse box was faulty. And the Haberdasher took it as an insult. As Seth and the Haberdasher went outside, they saw two Spatters run around the corner and dive into the Underground. As of now, the Underground was basically the sewage system for all of the excess thinner flowing around. It had to be sent somewhere.

Seth and the Haberdasher weren't sure, but the two swore the spatters were carrying something. They didn't get a good look. All they knew is that a Spatter in town meant trouble, and trouble was the last thing anyone wanted at this point in their lives. What with them fixing everything after the thinner disaster and the damage the Blot wrought, in all.

Mickey assured the two that he and his friends would get to the bottom of things. The Haberdasher then warned Mickey that if he doesn't get his hippo and moose back soon…he would go absolutely mad. Mickey left without another word.


"Well I didn't have any luck." Ortensia pouted on the bench by the train station. "No one really noticed anything." She announced sadly. "At least not until someone they were waiting for hadn't come back." Mickey patted her shoulder, comforting her.

"I think I got something." Oswald announced. "Adelle and Jack said they heard a gargled squabbling and metal breaking." He reported, glancing between Ortensia and Mickey. "I think it may have been a Spatter taking the gear."

"You'd be right." Mickey snapped his fingers. "The Haberdasher and Seth say they saw two Spatters dive into the Underground with something in their hands." Oswald and Ortensia's eyes widened in shock. "It might have been the gear."

"Then that's where we're heading." Oswald declared, placing a fist in his palm.

"The Underground?" Ortensia hummed pensively. "If the Spatters went down there, there might be more Blotlings." She feared.

"Don't worry." Mickey smiled comfortingly. "Oswald and I will have things covered."

"Ortensia," Oswald held her hands, "Can you make a quick run to Ostown for me?" He asked, hoping she wouldn't want to go into the underground. Ortensia could be amazing, but even she can't handle Blotlings. "Jack Kelly has a package that Markus forgot to deliver. It's at the train station."

"Sure." She nodded. "Do be careful." She pleaded. "The Blotlings are getting dangerously violent." Oswald sealed his promise with a quick kiss to her nose. Ortensia giggled girlishly. Her heart fluttered. She poked his nose, "Good luck hunny bunny." Ortensia turned on her heels and rushed for the Ostown projector.

"Let's go to work Mick." Oswald led the way. Mickey chased after him. The two knelt down and hoisted the man hole from the tunnel. The two jumped in, vanishing in the dust.


Several minutes earlier

"COOL!" Cecelia beamed at the little town. A fresh asphalted ground, circling a small maple stone area occupied by a statue of Oswald in the middle of the town. Fresh green lawns, newly painted fences, lined the front perimeter of the several homes against one side of the blue sky mural. The name Ostown was written in cloudy shapes on a mural surrounding the town. "This is like a regular cul-de-sac."

"A what?" Prescott spat with an arched brow. Even Gus had to admit he was confused.

"A cul-de-sac." Cecelia repeated. "An end street lined with homes." She glanced to the streets, watching people meander along, laughing heartily. "Usually with people laughing and small block parties."

"Sounds like you get out." Gus remarked with a smile.

Cecelia choked up a little. She grunted uncomfortably. Her lower lip curled into her teeth. Prescott was bewildered by her discomfort. "Not…really." Her voice cracked. "I'm not a party person."

"Could have fooled me." Prescott mumbled. "You're pretty wild for a child."

Cecelia furrowed her brow with a childish pout, folding her arms. "And you're a choir boy?" She retaliated. Prescott opened his mouth to protest, then quickly recoiled. He nodded with a shrug of his hand, having to agree. Cecelia grinned victoriously. "So where do we look first?"

"GUS! PRESCOTT!" A familiar voice to the Gremlins Ahyucked. The three turned to see a mechanical dog man running towards them, waving his one arm. "THERE YA ARE!"

Cecelia was startled by his appearance. Subconsciously she staggered back. Gus caught her with a gentle grasp of her shoulders. "Don't be frightened." He whispered encouragingly. "He's a friend." Cecelia doubted his words. New faces – present company excluded – were dubious.

"I'm glad I found you two!" The dog panted, halting a few feet from the Cecelia and Gremlins. Cecelia twisted behind Gus. "There were-oh." He stopped, noticing Cecelia cowering behind Gus. "Well…" He smiled, kneeling down, "Who do we have here?" Cecelia clenched her hands to Gus's suit.

"Allow me to introduce Cecelia." Gus pet her head, hoping to ease her shyness. "She's a friend of Mickey's."

"In that case any friend of Mickey's is a friend of mine." Goofy extended a hand. "Howdy there Miss Cecelia." Goofy greeted tenderly. "The name's Goofy."

Cecelia shuffled slowly from around Gus, fiddling with her fingers on her chest. Her ears were dropping down, her tail curled around her leg. "H-Hello." She squeaked, sluggishly reaching a hand out.

"Pleased tuh meet ya." Goofy took the hand, shaking it firmly. "You're a real purdy girl. Ya know that? Cute too." He giggled. He scratched behind her ear, "Like a little kitten." Cecelia's cheeks flushed pink. Her shyness faded.

"AHEM!" Prescott cleared his throat. "Not that this little…" He wriggled his hand sardonically, "Meet and greet isn't nauseatingly charming," He pushed Goofy back with on hand, "You seemed to desire our attention with the utmost urgency." He stressed his impatience. "You paused at There was a…"

"OH RIGHT!" Goofy knocked on his head. Prescott rolled his eyes. "Two Spatters ran into the Gag Factory a while ago."

"WHAT!" Prescott boomed.

"Yeah. And they were carrying somethin'. Somethin' metal."

"The gear?" Cecelia blurted.

"Most likely." Gus agreed.

"I DON'T CARE IF IT'S BLOODY PROBABLE OR POSSIBLE!" Prescott roared. Cecelia hugged Gus, and those two and Goofy cringed under his rage. "THERE ARE SPATTERS IN MY WORKSHOP!" He revved his fluttering feet. Smoke spewed from his screeching tire like feet. "THOSE LITTLE RATS WILL BURN!" He rocketed across the yard, barreling through the doors of his factory.

Gus and Cecelia looked at each other, petrified. Gus grabbed Cecelia by the hand and flew her into the factory. Prescott was standing in the middle of his factory. Shelves and crates of gags, a little stage for who knows what, and strange gloved hands on the ceiling. Prescott was frothing at the mouth, his eyes swirling with raging red circles. His fingers crackled like claws. Prescott darted from one wall to the next, flipping his tables and shelves.

"PRESCOTT STOP!" Gus pleaded. Prescott circled Gus and Cecelia so many times the two grew dizzy.

Cecelia shook her head and growled. She falred her fingers on one hand like a fan in front of her face. "The ties that bind, constrict, and tighten!" Cecelia's finger nails were coated in orange. Prescott chewed the gloved crane on his ceiling. "Obligo!" She cast her hand out. Thick threads launched from her fingernails. Just as Prescott was ready to toss the kitchen sink the threads bound him, tying his arms to his sides. Cecelia and Gus pulled, yanking him to the ground. "Do the words ANGER MANAGEMENT hold significance?!" Cecelia scolded him.

Gus swooped over and poured a glass of water on Prescott. The purple blue gremlin shook his head with a burr, shaking the water off. "Thanks. I needed that." He panted, cooling off. "And Goofy was right." He nudged his head toward a dark spot on the floor. "Spatters have been in my workshop." Gus hovered over the spot, analyzing it critically. He swept a finger over the spot. It was smudgy, thick, and creamy. All of the ingredients of a Spatter. "It took me weeks to clear all signs of the Blot from my shop!" He fumed. Cecelia retracted the threads, believing him…somewhat calm. "The knowledge those VERMIN are in my shop irks me!"

"Clearly." Cecelia mumbled, meandering to the shelves. "Whoa…" She marveled. "You made all of these?" She grabbed a pink cushion from the shelf. Whoopie.

"Yes!" Prescott folded his arms defensively. "And it took tons of hard work and planning to make them all." He stated, verbally patting himself on the back. "That there is called the Whoopie Cushion."

"Whoopie cushion?" Cecelia tail rippled with intrigue.

"Cecelia I don't think-" Prescott put a hand to his mouth.

Cecelia teasingly squeezed the cushion. It was so inflatable. Like a balloon. The end piece piqued her curiosity. It wasn't tied. What's meant to happen? Placing the cushion flat on her palm she smashed her other hand into it, squeezing hard. "Born ham, that's basically me." The deep, velvet voice of a woman recited. Question marks blipped around Cecelia head. She squeezed again, "I want Timon and Pumbaa to explain the sky to me." Cecelia was confused again, but smiled. She liked the voice. It was comforting.

Prescott swooped in. "Sorry about that." He took the cushion and flipped it to the back. "This is the Whoopi Goldberg Cushion." (Ba-dum bum tss. www. brainyquote quotes /authors/ w/whoopi _ )

Cecelia covered her mouth, stifling a giggle. Interesting play on words. Prescott returned the cushion and retrieved a different one. "This is what you were looking for." He faced the end piece towards her. The cushion she had felt more rubbery…a bit grainy. She placed it between her hands.

"DON'T-" Prescott stifled him again. Cecelia squeezed as hard as she could.



Goofy was talking with Clarabelle about how he would love to have another one of her award winning pies, when…AHHOOOGA! A fog horn blared from the Gag Factory, a powerful gust of wind blowing through the town. "WHOA!" Goofy breathed. "That was one humdinger of a breeze, wasn't it?"

Clarabelle's cheeks flushed bright, her fingers to her mouth in embarrassment. "Sorry about that."


Back in the Gag Factory

Cecelia stood in the middle of the room, her eyes wide and her hair blown back straight. Absolute stun plastered to her face. Prescott and Gus leaned in, wondering if she was broken. She blinked twice, and then, "PFFT…PAH-HA-HA-HA-HA!" She lurched forward, holding her stomach. The cushion bounced on the ground. "THAT WAS BRILLIANT!" Prescott flexed his collar proudly. Gus bowed in respect. "What else do you have?" She asked excitedly.

"Please remember," Gus stepped in between them, "We are here to find the Spatters! The gear they stole?"

"Aw…" Prescott and Cecelia groaned, slouching.

"None of that." He reprimanded. "Now, if Spatters were in here, is there a way they could have escaped without being seen?"

"Jamface could tell us." Prescott suggested. "That is IF he was still here!" He roared, kicking chattering teeth into a wall. "He was supposed to look after the place while I was out."

"I thought Stuffus was looking after the Factory." Gus retorted.

"He was until his hay fever acted up and he sneezed my windows out." Rectangular windows nearest the ceiling were completely missing. Not even the wooden sill remained. Cecelia wasn't sure if she wanted to meet this Stuffus just yet. At least not without an anchor. "I asked Jamface because he mentioned wanting to fix the sewer hole in the back-OH!" It came to him abruptly. "If Jamface hasn't gotten to it, there should still be a sewer entrance in the back room."

"Why do you have a sewer entrance?" Cecelia asked.

"Because the gators from Bog Easy used to live here." Cecelia gulped nervously. "Come on." Prescott led the way. Cecelia stayed put. Gus grabbed Cecelia and hoisted her in the air, following after Prescott.

Prescott wrenched the back door open. An awful stench flooded from the room, fleeing itself. Another fog horn blared with the pale green aroma. Cecelia, Prescott, and Gus plugged their noses, almost turning green themselves. Rats, cockroaches, and flies with gas masks fled the room. "Did the gators die?" Cecelia's stomach gargled.

"Smells like it!" Gus heaved. "Good gracious!" He waved his hand. "What man alive could make such a stench?"

"HEY!" A sickening familiar voice roared from the darkened room. "NOW DAT AIN'T CALLED FOR!" The sound of a footstep and peg leg came trudging for them. Cecelia's jaw hit the floor. Another Pete came sauntering from the room. He was wearing a Swedish dress and had Goldilocks' in braids under a hat. "Can't a person eat his lunch in peace?" Horrid screams erupted from the paper bag leaking something fowl.

"Lunch? Small Pete?" Gus questioned in horror.

"Yeah! Lunch!" He reached in a pulled out a foot long sub sandwich. A rancid stench emanated in the faces of the sickened three. "Meatball, limburger, and sour croute samich extra marinade and ice-cream." Prescott, Cecelia, and Gus's faces turned sickly green, their cheeks puffing with approaching vomit. "And just a smidge of ranch dressing and cinnamon – for dat extra zing. Heh-heh. It's de extra touches that make ALLL the difference in a man's lunch." The second Small Pete took a bite out of his sandwich, he chewed with his mouth opened and moaned happily.

Prescott, Cecelia, and Gus reached off to the sides and grabbed trash cans. "BLEEHHHH!"

"Well…" Small Pete swallowed his food, "If dat's da tanks I get for looking out for da place, then I'm outta here!" He stormed passed the exacerbated three.

"WAIT!" It occurred to Prescott. "Did you see two blotlings come this way?"

"Not a thing!" Small Pete waved off. "Just barely got back all of five minutes before you!"

The smudge Prescott found was older than that. Possible half an hour older. "What happened to Jamface?"

"WHO CARES?" Small Pete marched for the front door. "All I know is he left in a hurry!" The doors slammed. The three flinched.

"Well he's…helpful?" Cecelia didn't know what to say. She was disoriented from the fumes.

"On the plus side the stench is evaporating." Gus sprayed springtime air freshener in the air. "My eyes have nearly stopped watering."

"Just in time." Prescott tugged on a man hole. There were ink smudges on the rim. It was loose, but heavy. "Give me a hand with this, will you!" Cecelia and Gus ran over and hooked the man hole. On the count of three they lifted and shuffled the manhole to the side. A gentle breeze gusted from the hole. Surprisingly it smelt better than the death sandwich.

It was dark and dank, impossible to see the bottom. Or the first five feet anyway. "So…" Cecelia trailed off. "What? Do we get a ladder or-" Prescott whirled his foot and kicked her in the tail. "OW! AHHH!" Cecelia fell down the hole, screaming.

Gus sighed heavily. "Must you behave like a child?" He scolded the younger Gremlin.

"I do run the Gag Factory." Prescott stated haughtily. "It would be ironic if I didn't pull a trick." He dove into the hole.

"The fact you have a sense of humor is ironic." Gus took a deep breath, plugged his nose, and cannonballed into the sewer.

Because I can…TO BE CONTINUED!

I'm tired and can't come up with anything else.