Titi and the Earwax Uprising

At daybreak Titi was awakened by Nate Goiterhead asking him why there was a sun. The boy rubbed the sleep from his eyes while telling his charge he didn’t know. Then he made peepee and poopoo, bathed in a trickling yellow stream, and ate a can of Spork. Having thus prepared for a new day the boy said:

“Let us start at once. Nine miles is quite a distance, but we ought to reach Schmegma City by noon if no accidents happen.” So Nate and Titi both got back onto the raccoon’s back, and the journey was resumed.

The little party had traveled but a short two miles upon their way when the road was parted by a broad and swift foamy yellow river. Titi was puzzled how to cross over; but after a time he discovered a veiny yokai in a ferry-boat approaching from the other side of the stream. The pinkish ferryman was naked except for one sock and was shaped like a lizard with a furless fox’s head.

When the ferryman reached the bank Titi asked:

“Will you row us to the other side?”

“Yes, if you have any dusted diamonds or videotapes,” returned the ferryman, who had a look on his face like he was weaned from a pickle.

“But I have no dusted diamonds or videotapes,” said Titi.

“None at all?” inquired the man.

“None at all,” answered the boy.

“Then I guess you’re fudged,” said the ferryman, decidedly.

“What a nice man!” remarked the Goiterhead, smilingly. The ferryman stared at him, but made no reply.

“We must certainly get to Schmegma City,” Titi said to the boatman; “but how can I cross the river if you do not take me?”

The yokai laughed, and it was not a nice laugh.

“That wooden raccoon will float,” said he; “and you can ride him across. As for the goiterheaded goon who accompanies you, let him sink or swim it won’t matter greatly which.”

“Don’t worry about me,” said Nate, smiling pleasantly upon the crabby ferryman; “I’m sure I ought to float beautifully.”

Titi thought the experiment was worth making, and the Chainsaw Raccoon, who did not know what danger meant, offered no objections whatever. So the tween directed it down the bank and into the water.

“Now,” said Titi, instructing the Chainsaw Raccoon, “if you wiggle your legs you will probably swim; and if you swim we shall probably reach the other side.”

The Chainsaw Raccoon at once began to wiggle its legs, which acted as oars and moved the adventurers slowly across the river to the opposite side. So successful was the trip that presently they were climbing, wet and dripping, up the grassy bank.

Titi and Nate’s trouser-legs and shoes were thoroughly soaked; but the Chainsaw Raccoon had floated so perfectly that from their knees up they were entirely dry.

“The sun will soon dry us,” said Titi “and, anyhow, we are now safely across, in spite of that jerkface ferryman, and can continue our journey.”

“You’re the jerkface, jerkface!” shouted the ferryman, who rowed away from them quickly.

“I didn’t mind swimming, at all,” remarked the raccoon.

“I’m enjoying my first experience of being moist,” said Nate.

“If you ride fast,” Titi said to the racoon bench, “the wind will help to dry our clothing. Giddy-Yup!”

The raccoon started at a good pace, then Titi decided they could go faster, so he shouted: “Cheezit!”

Now, the Chainsaw Raccoon remembered that this word was the command to go as fast as he could; so he unexpectedly began rocking along the road at a tremendous pace, and the next minute the tween was rolling in the dust of the road, while the raccoon and its goiter-headed rider- who clung tightly to the rough-hewn bench, pressing his face against it’s vertical tail- dashed on and quickly disappeared in the distance.

By the time Titi had picked himself up and cleared the dust from his throat so he could say “Whoa!” there was no further need of saying it, for the raccoon was long since out of sight.

So he did the only sensible thing he could do. He sat down and took a good rest, and afterward began walking along the road.

“I’ll catch up to them eventually,” he reflected; “for the road will end at the gates of Schmegma City, and they can go no further than that.”

Meantime Nate was clutching fast to the tail of the Chainsaw Raccoon, who was tearing along the road like a pronghorn. The raccoon didn’t know that Titi had fallen off, and Nate- whose head was turned towards the tail- didn’t notice either. They galloped along, passing the occasional mom and pop video store or farm or movie theater.

At length a high wall loomed up before them. It had an interesting texture, as if someone had taken a million model kits, mixed up all the pieces, hot glued them to a wall and spray painted it different shades of gray and silver. So suddenly did the raccoon stop that had it not been for tight hold around the wooden beast’s tail Nate would have been pitched off, and his unique head smashed.

The wall surrounding Schmegma City features four Mukusian plastic gates, one facing Schling Quadrant, one facing Mukus Quadrant, one facing Quirk Quadrant, and one facing Plotz Quadrant. Over the Plotz gate were spray painted the words “CREATION LASTS FOREVER”. This was a reference to a famous quote by feature film motion picture producer, philanthropist, and founder of the city, J. Danforth Schmegma:

"Energy used in passive work is lost forever. Energy used in active artistic work is transformed into new energy."

“That was a fast ride, dear father!” Nate exclaimed; and then, hearing no reply, he turned his head around and discovered for the first time that Titi was not there.

This apparent desertion puzzled the garbage golem, and made him uneasy. And while he was wondering what had become of his father, and what he ought to do next under such trying circumstances, a hole the wall opened, revealing a smallish felt-skinned man with long thin arms and legs, almost completely covered in white fur. He stood behind a huge electronic synthesizer. He wore a black stocking cap and a black iguana-leather vest and circular black glasses with no lenses in them and his nose seemed to be made of plastic. Waving a floppy arm at the two travelers he said:

“I am Fissure, the Guardian of the Gates of Schmegma City.” He played a few keys on his synth. “May I inquire who you are, and what is your business?”

“My name is Nate Goiterhead and this is my sibling the Chainsaw Raccoon,” returned the other, smilingly; “but as to our business, I haven’t the least idea in the world what it is.”

Fissure looked surprised, and shook his head as if dissatisfied with the reply. He walked out from behind his keyboard to get a better look at the visitors.

“What are you, a man or a goiter?” he asked, politely.

“Both, if you please,” answered Nate.

“And this ugly raccoon bench- is it alive?” questioned Fissure.

The raccoon rolled one knotty eye upward and winked at Nate. Then it gave a prance and brought one leg down on Fissure’s tiny toes.

“Ouch!” cried the furry man; “I’m sorry I asked that question. But the answer is most convincing. Have you any errand, sirs, in Schmegma City?”

“It seems to me that I have,” replied Nate, seriously; “but I cannot think what it is. Our father knows all about it, but he is not here.”

“This is a strange scene, very strange!” declared Fissure. “But you two seem harmless. Folks do not smile so delightfully as you when they mean mischief.”

“As for that,” said Nate, “I cannot help my smile, for it was carved onto my face with a machete.”

“And mine with a chainsaw,” added the Chainsaw Raccoon.

“Well, I will see what can be done for you.” The guardian honked a bicycle horn attached to his keyboard, and presently a scruffy man wearing a fluorescent orange jumpsuit and a puffy fluorescent orange vest appeared on the other side of the gate. His glasses frames were fluorescent orange and he had a fluorescent squishball cap. On his vest was a silver badge with the Schmegma icon on it, and on his black utility belt were two holsters: A machine gun in the one on the right, and one with a Glittery Machete brand machete in it on the left. Fissure at once addressed him, saying:

“Agent Orange, here is are two strange beings who don’t know why they have come to Schmegma City, or what they want. Tell me, what shall we do with them?”

Orange looked at Nate and the Chainsaw Raccoon with much care and curiosity. Finally he shook his head and said with a sigh “I must take him to his highness, the Ratsack Tremorroid.”

“But what will his highness, the Ratsack Tremorroid, do with him?” asked Fissure.

“That is his highness’s business. I have troubles enough of my own,” said Orange with a pained expression on his face. “All outside troubles must be turned over to his highness.”

So Fissure pushed the big red button that opened the gate and Agent Orange led the raccoon bench with the garbage golem sitting atop it through and they at once found themselves in the main street of the magnificent municipality. Schmegma City is the greatest city in all of Bonertania. Its main industries were the making of feature film motion pictures and the trading of physical media. One third of the city was soundstages and backlots, and one third was mostly mom and pop video stores, walk-in movie theaters, playhouses, libraries, art galleries, 24 hour diners, bowling alleys, convenience stores, discotheques, and used book and toy and audiotape and clothing shops. There were no cars or vanbuses in town but there was a garage district for garage bands to practice in. Giant veiny fruitbats continually flew in and out of the city, transporting videotapes, audiotapes, and books all over Pus continent.

The third third of Schmegma City was apartment blocks, where the citizens lived in soundproof apartments with great home theaters, housed in tall buildings of various heights and shapes. All of these structures had the same bashed model kit texture and greyish-silver color as the city’s outer walls.

However, Nate Goiterhead and the Chainsaw Raccoon paid little attention to the funderful sights they saw. The bench and it’s unshapely rider calmly followed after Agent Orange and scarcely noticed the crowds of citizens who stared at them in surprise. When a plastic robot dog ran out and barked at them the Chainsaw Raccoon promptly kicked at it with its wooden leg and sent the little animal howling into an alley; but nothing more serious than this happened to interrupt their progress to Videotape Palace. The palace was a huge black structure constructed of billions of old videotapes, it featured four tall towers, each one circled with three neon lights of purple, blue, and pink. On top of the towers were hexagonal domes, and atop the domes were flags bearing the Schmegma icon. In the center of the roof was a large flying saucer landing pad and a dumpster, surrounded by solar panels. The front door was shaped like two giant videotapes.

Nate wanted to ride the Chainsaw Raccoon up the steps and straight into the Ratsack Tremorroid’s throne room; but the soldier would not permit that. So Nate dismounted, with much difficulty, and a handmaiden led the Chainsaw Raccoon around to the stables while Agent Orange escorted Nate into Videotape Palace by the front entrance.

The stranger was left in a handsomely furnished foyer while the soldier went to announce him. It so happened that at this hour the tremorroid was at leisure and greatly bored for want of something to do, so he ordered his visitor to be shown at once into his throne room. The throne room was the fifth biggest room in Videotape Palace, after screening rooms 1, 2, and 4 and the roller rink. The throne room was essentially a movie theater but instead of a giant TV there was a series of platforms with the videotape throne at the top.

Nate felt no fear or embarrassment at meeting the ruler of this magnificent city, for he was entirely ignorant of all worldly customs. But when he entered the huge room and saw for the first time the Ratsack Tremorroid seated high atop his throne, he stopped short in amazement, for the tremorroid was a golem like him- In this case an animate sack full of squirming live rats, tied at the top with a thick piece of twine. There was a friendly face scrawled upon the bag and a molybdenum crown sewn onto his head.

If the strange appearance of his highness the Ratsack Tremorroid seemed startling to Nate, no less weird was the form of the garbage golem to the Ratsack Tremorroid. The carved face on the lumpy, veiny goiter head grinned perpetually, as if its wearer considered life the jolliest thing imaginable. Finally they introduced themselves to each other.

“Won’t you take a seat?” the Ratsack Tremorroid asked Nate Goiterhead. The tremorroid came down from the videotape throne and gave Nate a sudden push that sent him plopping down in the front row of theater seats in so awkward a fashion that he nearly doubled over, and had hard work to right himself.

“Yikes stripes!” declared Nate, reaching up his arms to turn his head to the front, the goiter having twisted when he plopped.

“You seem hastily made,” remarked the tremorroid, watching Nate’s efforts to straighten himself.

“I assure your highness that I did not ask to be created,” answered Nate.

“Ah! It was the same in my case,” said the tremorroid, pleasantly. “You and I are unique, friend goiter. I am convinced that the only people worthy of consideration in this world are the unusual ones. The majority of humanoids and yokai want to be like others, and this turns them into zombies. It is necessary to find what distinguishes us from others in order to be something."

“Uh-huh,” replied Nate Goiterhead.

“And so, as we differ from all ordinary people, let us become friends.”

“To be sure!” said Nate.

“Do you want to have a sleepover tonight? This palace has an amazing videotape library and we can watch movies all night.”

“That depends. Can my father and sibling come too?”

“You have a family? Are they goiterheads, like you?”

“No. I came here riding on my sibling, the Chainsaw Raccoon. They’re made of wood. They took him to the stables. My father is a boy of flesh and bone and blood and hair. I don’t know what happened to him, he vanished on the way here.”

“Hmm. I’ll send out a search party for your father. As for a chainsaw raccoon, that tickles my fancy. I’ll have word sent for it to meet us on the miniature golf course. Come, let us go play a game and have some fun!”

And that was how the Ratsack Tremorroid and Nate Goiterhead became friends.