interrupts us. It’s like the sound of a blade, slicing between us, silencing us.
‘Do you guys hear that?’
It’s like the wind, rustling through the trees. But louder. The sound fills the air. Like a flute or a, uh – what’s that lame plastic instrument from elementary school? A recorder! It sounds a bit like that. But the sound is deeper, rougher – and the longer I listen to it, the more it begins to sound like a strange, devilish, musical scream. There’s no other way to describe the sound. It is an inhuman SHRIEKING.
But there’s no time to ponder the strange sound, because Thrull is limping toward Joe’s. If we’re going in, the time is now.
‘Come on!’ June says.
I listen to the noise a moment longer. The sound enters my ears and proceeds to march straight down my spine, twisting it, terrifying me to my core.
It’s only a noise.
Yet it scares me beyond belief.
‘Jack!’ Quint barks. I shake my head, trying to shake out the fear, and I reluctantly follow my friends. From inside Joe’s, I hear glass shatter and freakish, inhuman laughing.
But I continue following.
We all do.
Rover trots beside me. As we step up onto the sidewalk, I tell him to stay, and he flashes those puppy-dog eyes at me. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll be back, buddy,’ I say. ‘I think . . .’
Continuing forward, we pass the monsters hanging out outside. I try to give them good, solid, manly nods – but they just look at me like, ‘Buddy, you are in the wrong place.’
Thrull places his hand against the door, and pushes it open, and we step inside. Inside, to the strangest sight imaginable . . .
Tentacles dance in the air! Furry beasts armwrestle! Scaled things play some strange version of darts. At the counter, insect-like monsters suck down entire pizzas in a single bite. Small flying creatures swoop through the air, delivering food. And everywhere, at tables, in booths, are HULKING MONSTERS chatting it up in some sort of monster language.
A few speak English. Bits and pieces of strange monster dialogue float over:
‘. . . ONCE POUNDED A GURLAK INTO THE MUD WITH JUST MY TAIL . . .’
‘. . . MORE SNOZZLE STEAKS, CHEF! . . .’
‘. . . TASTES BETTER WHEN IT’S STILL BREATHING, IF YOU ASK ME . . .’
A massively round monster behind the bar wings a pizza pie through the air, directly into the mouth of a heaving creature that is seemingly all mouth and nothing else.
And then there’s us.
There’s me.
The thirteen-year-old human.
The scared, confused, overconfident-but-only-overconfident-in-order-to-hide-his-crippling-fear kid.
‘My friends!’ Thrull bellows. ‘Listen!’
The grumble of monster voices grows quiet. They turn in their chairs. Some crane impossibly long necks. I can feel their eyes – some with thousands of little eyeballs, like flies – watching us.
Thrull purses his lips. He sighs through his neck-gills, then says, ‘Œŕŗūæŀ, known in this world as BLARG!’
The monsters simply stare. Silence hangs in the air like a poorly timed fart. Finally, a small, zero-armed creature, perched on a chair, laughs and leans forward. ‘This small human defeated a servant of Ŗeżżőcħ the Ancient, Destructor of Worlds? HA! Not likely!’ the creature says, cackling.
Hey! Are they calling me a liar?! I’m many things. I’m lazy. I’m clumsy. I’m a sucker for girls with British accents. I’m pretend-charming but not real-charming. But I’m no liar.
Well, that’s not totally true, either. I mean, I’ve lied plenty. Who hasn’t?
But I’m not lying about this!
I cough into my fist, take a deep breath, and step forward. ‘Um. Ah. No. It’s true. I did. For real. With this,’ I say as I pull the Louisville Slicer from its sheath.
The way the monsters react, you’d think I’d just pulled a severed donkey head from my back pocket. Some gasp like humans. Others make sounds that I can only assume are monster versions of gasps.
They begin to sniff the air and then start to smile. It’s like they can smell Blarg on the blade.
Thrull looks at me with a grin that’s all teeth. He rests one massive paw on my shoulder. I can’t help but feel all warm inside . . .
And then –
‘And these are my friends!’ I say, shouting to be heard over the roar. ‘I didn’t do it alone! They helped! Like, a whole bunch!’
The crowd cheers louder. June and Quint beam. Dirk gives me a slap on the back. And that is how we’re welcomed into the strange new world of Joe’s Pizza.
Soon, monsters are surrounding us, asking questions, telling stories, offering us food. A dozen monsters crowd around me as I recount the tale of how I battled Blarg. They keep pouring me flat Joe’s soda and I keep talking.
Later on, I spot Thrull, off in a dim corner, sitting at a table. He’s talking with another creature – this one thin, with spindly limbs and a rough, jagged beard.
Thrull catches my eye and beckons me over. I pull Quint, Dirk, and June with me.
‘Please sit,’ Thrull says, then indicates the other monster. ‘This is ßàŗġťŀ – pronounced “Bardle” in your tongue.’
Bardle smiles – an act that seems to take him great effort. His face scrunches up, revealing deep scars slashing this way and that.
‘Bardle is aged,’ Thrull says. ‘For many lifetimes, he was a conjurer in our dimension.’
‘Dimension?’ Quint asks, leaning forward.
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