Lord Sparklebutt and the Blue Ting™
The glade shimmered under a glow that was equal parts moonlight and dramatic tension. Birds hushed. The leaves held their breath. Because strutting into the clearing like he owned the entire tax bracket came Lord Sparklebutt, a vision in iridescent blue, tail fanned, wings perfectly poised, and a red sash that proudly declared:
LORD SPARKLEBUTT
(In case anyone forgot.)
“BEHOLD,” he announced, with no regard for the wildlife scattering around him, “your salvation has arrived.”
A snort came from atop a mossy rock.
Curled there like a loaf of judgment, Moo the Tabby, was watching him with narrowed green eyes and a face that said “I’ve seen better entrances from hairballs.”
“You must be the feather duster the glade coughed up,” she said, lazily flicking her tail. “Name’s Moo. I’m in charge of containment.”
“Containment of what, exactly?” Sparklebutt asked, fluffing his tail for emphasis.
She sighed, rolled off her rock, and pointed with one claw.
There, behind a half-eaten fern and a deeply concerned garden gnome statue, was The Blue Ting™.
It shimmered.
It pulsed.
It made a low vibrating noise like a cello having an anxiety attack.
Moo narrowed her eyes. “Don’t touch it.”
Lord Sparklebutt stared. “What is it?”
“We don’t know,” Moo said flatly. “We call it The Blue Ting™. Capital T, trademark and all.”
“What does it do?”
“It exists,” Moo hissed. “Menacingly. It once absorbed a wicker chair and a ham sandwich and then started quoting weather forecasts from other dimensions.”
“Is it sentient?”
“It’s legally ambiguous.”
The Blue Ting™ let out a gurgling whoop and attempted to slowly rotate.
Moo chucked a pinecone at it with perfect feline aim. It vanished briefly. Then reappeared on top of a tree branch. Slightly wetter.
Sparklebutt flared his feathers. “This is not my jurisdiction. This is an environmental fashion hazard.”
“You got plumes, Sparklebutt. That makes you backup. Let’s move.”
Without asking, Moo jumped on his back like a furry general declaring war on nonsense.
And thus, our heroes disappeared into the woods, one majestic, one mildly annoyed, and somewhere nearby, The Blue Ting™ hummed what may or may not have been the chorus of a forbidden sea shanty in reverse.
LORD SPARKLEBUTT
(In case anyone forgot.)
“BEHOLD,” he announced, with no regard for the wildlife scattering around him, “your salvation has arrived.”
A snort came from atop a mossy rock.
Curled there like a loaf of judgment, Moo the Tabby, was watching him with narrowed green eyes and a face that said “I’ve seen better entrances from hairballs.”
“You must be the feather duster the glade coughed up,” she said, lazily flicking her tail. “Name’s Moo. I’m in charge of containment.”
“Containment of what, exactly?” Sparklebutt asked, fluffing his tail for emphasis.
She sighed, rolled off her rock, and pointed with one claw.
There, behind a half-eaten fern and a deeply concerned garden gnome statue, was The Blue Ting™.
It shimmered.
It pulsed.
It made a low vibrating noise like a cello having an anxiety attack.
Moo narrowed her eyes. “Don’t touch it.”
Lord Sparklebutt stared. “What is it?”
“We don’t know,” Moo said flatly. “We call it The Blue Ting™. Capital T, trademark and all.”
“What does it do?”
“It exists,” Moo hissed. “Menacingly. It once absorbed a wicker chair and a ham sandwich and then started quoting weather forecasts from other dimensions.”
“Is it sentient?”
“It’s legally ambiguous.”
The Blue Ting™ let out a gurgling whoop and attempted to slowly rotate.
Moo chucked a pinecone at it with perfect feline aim. It vanished briefly. Then reappeared on top of a tree branch. Slightly wetter.
Sparklebutt flared his feathers. “This is not my jurisdiction. This is an environmental fashion hazard.”
“You got plumes, Sparklebutt. That makes you backup. Let’s move.”
Without asking, Moo jumped on his back like a furry general declaring war on nonsense.
And thus, our heroes disappeared into the woods, one majestic, one mildly annoyed, and somewhere nearby, The Blue Ting™ hummed what may or may not have been the chorus of a forbidden sea shanty in reverse.
