Zorgamazoo (18 page)

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Authors: Robert Paul Weston

BOOK: Zorgamazoo
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It was just as she pondered this worrying fact,
that somewhere nearby, something
rattled
and
clacked
.
A sound like a dustbin of rubbish and soot,
being clumsily kicked by a ham-fisted foot.
said a voice from the past.
The voice had a screechy, contemptible tone,
and Katrina could tell:
It was Mrs. Krabone!
She came out of the dark, where she'd carefully hid.
“I missed you,” she said. “I mean, really I did.”
Her expression was odd. It was haggard and bleak.
She was unlike herself. She looked humble and meek.
she said. “I've been rather a brute.
I've been spiteful and vile, and a villain to boot.
But seeing those creatures, those beasties and things,
they tugged at my heart—at its innermost strings!
 
Those magical creatures untangled my knots.
I was lit from within! And with thousands of watts!
It changed me for good. It made me think twice.
No more nasty
, I thought. Instead…I'll be nice.”
 
She spread out her arms. She opened them wide.
She smiled and invited Katrina inside.
 
Katrina, of course, didn't know what to do.
She hoped that the words she was hearing were true.
She wished that Old Krabby had honestly changed,
and was no longer hateful or cruel or deranged.
 
What Katrina most craved, as I'm sure you can tell,
was someone who loved her and treated her well.
She wanted some semblance of family ties,
upon which a childhood so greatly relies.
 
So she took a step forward, with hope in her heart:
This moment,
Chapter 19
say
goodbye
to your brain
Katrina, however, had made a mistake.
Old Krabby's compunction was utterly fake. “Gotcha!” she cried, with a snatch and a grab, with a pinch and pull, like the claw of a crab. Things only got worse, I'm afraid to report, when out of the murk, came a snickering snort. It was followed by figures, and each of them foul. They surrounded Katrina, like wolves on the prowl.
 
“Katrina, hello there,” said Doctor LeFang.
“Look who we met. Such a nice little gang!”
 
Katrina looked left. Katrina looked right.
Both sides held an equally worrying sight.
There was the ruffian, Sickly VAN Puke,
his nose spilling over with gobbledygook.
 
 
Selena the Slash was waiting as well,
to exact her revenge on Katrina Katrell.
And those two, of course, were never without:
BUGSY MCCROOK,
that unbearable lout!
He was wearing a typically simpering leer.
He took a step forward and said, with a sneer,
 
“Your weird little pals—they ain't here anymore.
So I'd say it's time that we settled the score!”
In seconds, the villains were closing the gap.
It was clear she'd been caught in a terrible trap!
Selena and Sickly snuck up from the rear.
They captured Katrina by elbow and ear.
They twisted her arms, holding her tight,
while Dr. LeFang stood off to the right.
 
In his hand were the blades of his wicked device,
especially made to puncture and slice.
In the lamplight it flashed with a sinister gleam,
like the teeth of a beast in a hideous dream.
 
He raised up his Mincer, holding it high.
“I shall enter,” he said, “just here, by your eye.
So don't move a muscle, or you may feel some pain,
because now, my dear girl,
came a voice. It came from the street.
It seemed to rise up from under their feet.
 
A manhole popped open and clambering out,
came Morty himself, like a flowering sprout.
“Hey, grimwits,” he said. “Whatever you planned,
you'd better just quit it, do you understand?”
 
This time, however, the gang was prepared.
BUGSY
was grinning. He didn't look scared.
“So it's you again, is it?” he said with a sneer.
“Well, listen, I'll make myself perfectly clear:
You frightened us once, way back in our den,
but trust me, you freak, you won't do it again!”
 
BUGSY stepped forward, the head of the gang,
and so did that lunatic, Doctor LeFang.
He was staring at Morty (or rather his head).
“What a curious beast!” he excitedly said.
“How I would certainly love to obtain
such a wholly unique and unusual brain!”
 
“Well, sorry,” said Morty, “to mess with your plot,
but I'm
using
my brain, believe it or not.
And
BUGSY
, you're no longer frightened of me?
Well, how 'bout my friend? He's as big as a tree.”
 
All of a sudden, everything shook
(including the nerves of
BUGSY
MCCROOK
).
The buildings, the cars, and even the street,
went
tharumpah
-
tharump
to a walloping beat.
The
Behemoth
, of course,
that voluminous chap,
whose footfalls were each like a thundering clap,
stepped into the alley, his hands on his hips.
He was looking half-starved. He was licking his lips.
 
“I'm famished!” he boomed, surveying the scene.
“And I
love
eating folks who're nasty and mean.
Their blood is so salty! Their livers so firm!
Whenever you eat them, they wriggle and squirm!
 
Their skin has a scent like the stinkiest cheese!
And their heads—
they go
pop
like the plumpest of peas!
You can bake them in pastry to make a soufflé,
or perhaps for dessert, a meanie parfait!
Whichever the case, I chew them to pulp!
I guzzle them down, with a slurp and a gulp!”
 
“Well, then,” said Morty, a smile on his face.
“Let me tell you, my friend—
you're in just the right place.”

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