CHAPTER 30

In which the Five Ghorks compare recipes and Elliot revises his to-do list

We’ve got a nose to pick with you,” said a nasally voice from behind them.

Leslie and Elliot looked up from the ruins of the tele-pathetic helmet and saw they were surrounded by the Five Ghorks.

SPLOOSH-SPLISH-SPLOSH-SPLASH!

Adenoid Jack, the ghork with the enormous nose, shot four more snot globs aimed perfectly at Leslie and Elliot’s feet. When they tried to take off, nothing happened. Like the helmet, the rocket boots were ruined.

“He means a bone to pick, by the way,” said Iris, rolling her enormous eyes. “He always gets that mixed up.”

“Are you sure?” Adenoid Jack wiggled a finger inside one cavernous nostril. “Doesn’t a nose to pick make more sense?”

“Speak for yourself,” said Wingnut. “If it were up to me, I’d say, ‘I’ve got an ear to pick with you.’”

“You would,” said Iris.

“At least you can.” Digits put down his net and held up his enormous hands. “If I wanna pick my nose or my ear, I gotta use little spoons. My fingers don’t fit.”

Meanwhile, Adenoid Jack was still thinking. “So which is it? Nose or bone?”

“Or ear?” asked Wingnut.

“That’s enough!” said Grinner, gnashing his countless teeth. “We’re not here to discuss the etymology of certain idioms that may or may not be applicable to our present situation!”

“Huh?” asked Wingnut.

“I mean, we’re not here to talk,” Grinner clarified. “We’re here for revenge.”

“Exactly,” said Adenoid Jack. “Revenge. It’s like I said: We got a nose to pick with these guys.”

“Or an ear,” said Wingnut.

Grinner stomped his foot. “Quit it! Just get ’em already!”

On the roof of a building, with no way down and only slimy, defunct rocket boots on their feet, there was no escape. Even if there was somewhere to run, they couldn’t, because Adenoid Jack’s snot globs had hardened.

“Disgusting!” cried Leslie. “It’s booger glue!”

A moment later, Digits was throwing a net over each of them.

“You know,” said Grinner, smiling malevolently, “in the varied and multitudinous realms of creaturedom, we ghorks fall somewhere in between trolls and ogres.” His grin widened. “But we’re way worse than either of them.”

“We are?” asked Wingnut.

Grinner nodded. “See, even in creaturedom, these are enlightened times. Those trolls and ogres? Naw, they gave up eating children a long time ago. But we ghorks, especially ones like me, if we get reeeally hungry . . .” He opened his mouth so wide it seemed like his whole head was hinged at the back of his neck. His breath smelled of sewage and sulfur and he had teeth growing upon teeth. There were rows of them, puncturing the soft flesh of his gullet all the way down into the darkness of his throat. “So the only real question,” he said, “is which one of you do we eat first?”

“Ooh, ooh!” cried Wingnut. “The boy. They’re salty! Save the girl for dessert.”

“I’ve always preferred girls as an appetizer myself,” said Iris.

Adenoid Jack flared his nostrils. “If you wanna do it right, you gotta break them into pieces. That’s the only way to really bring out the scent.”

“Ugh!” Grinner scoffed. “I swear, I’m surrounded by philistines. I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna drag ’em back to the lair and slather ’em in ketchup. That’s how you do it in style!”

Digits clapped his huge hands. “Ketchup, yeah! We’ll deep-fry ’em! Then we’ll have finger food!”

Elliot couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was the worst coincidence he could possibly imagine! After so many years of lying in bed each morning, listening to his parents tell him he would soon be cooked and eaten, that was exactly what was going to happen!

To make the unthinkable prospect all the more terrifying, the ghorks’ argument over how to properly roast (or braise, or poach, or curry) a child went on and on. It might have been a good opportunity for Leslie and Elliot to escape, but how could they? Making a run for it wasn’t exactly a viable option when they were tangled up in nets and super-booger-glued to the roof of a building. Meanwhile, down below them, they could see that the ghorks had regained their advantage. All the creatures and staff of DENKi-3000 were prisoners once again.

If Elliot had felt merely hopeless before, now he felt right on the verge of despair. He thought about all the things he would never get to do, all the goals he had set for himself. To grow up and be an inventor like his uncle, for instance. To drive a car. To travel the world. To vote. He would have liked to have tried fishing. Just once. He certainly had the wardrobe for it. Now, however, none of those things would happen. It just didn’t seem fair.

“Hey,” he whispered to Leslie. “I guess this isn’t going the way we planned, huh?”

“Not really, no.” She smiled sadly at him. “But I’m still glad my mom moved us to Bickleburgh. I’m glad I met you, and your uncle, and everyone else too. I’m glad I got to find out all these weird creatures were real before . . .” She stole a quick glance at the quarreling ghorks. “Before you-know-what.”

“We’re eaten by ghorks?”

“Yeah.”

“I was just thinking about that myself.” Elliot paused. He wasn’t quite sure how to say what he was thinking. “Anyway, I thought maybe . . . well, maybe we should kiss.”

“WHAT?!”

The ghorks looked over at them.

“Pipe down,” said Grinner. “We’re still trying to decide how to cook you.”

Leslie was looking at Elliot as if he was crazy (and Elliot was inclined to believe her).

“Trust me,” he said, “it’s not like ‘kissing a girl’ is at the top of my list of things to do before I die. In fact, I’m pretty sure it never made the list. But since it looks like I might never get to do the things that are on the list, and since you’re a girl and you’re right here, I just thought we might try it.”

Leslie thought about this for a moment. “Well, since we’re gonna get eaten by ghorks anyway . . .”

They leaned closer together, but it was difficult for them to reach each other without moving their feet. Their lips, puckering awkwardly through the mesh of the net, were just about to touch when they heard something. It sounded like thunder, but the sky was completely clear.

“You guys hear something?” Wingnut asked the other ghorks.

“What is that?” asked Digits, looking up at the empty sky.

“Over there, look!” Iris pointed to the buildings of Bickle-burgh. A brownish-gray cloud of dust was rumbling through the streets. The crowd at the gates heard it too. They parted just in time to avoid being trampled because that was when—

BAROOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

A deep baritone trumpeting sound split the air as an army of bombastadons riding high on the backs of countless arachnimammoths came galloping through the gates of DENKi-3000.

Leading the charge (of course) was Colonel-Admiral Reginald T. Pusslegut, and for the people of Bickleburgh, it was a deeply surprisingly turn of events. For the creatures of the Creature Department, however, the most astonishing thing of all was the fact that seated triumphantly on Reggie’s magnificent epaulettes was a pair of hobmongrels!