Breakfast
World
Pancake
Land was better than Bacon Land. Bacon Land! Oh my god, the lakes of
boiling fat, the stench. Wilson used to like
bacon. Bacon sandwiches were listed as his favorite meal on his
Facebook page, for god's sake. Now, he hoped he would never have to
eat or even smell it again. They had finally reached the portal in
Bacon Land and passed through to find themselves still on Breakfast
World.
In
Pancake Land it was the sinkholes. The ones that had already popped
meant a long, weary trek around a hemispherical hole. Some were
miles in diameter. If you fell into one, it might be possible to
climb out. The rough surfaces provided plenty of handholds. Might
be possible, were the sinkholes not tenanted.
One
of the clones had stood too close, peering into one of the first they
found, and the edge had given way. The clone had made it about
halfway back up the wall (the sinkhole was a small one) when
something caught hold of his leg. The clone had struggled for a
moment, then abruptly stopped moving and, a few moments later, simply
melted into the surface. Soon there was no sign the clone had ever
been there.
Nascent
holes were much more dangerous. They were concealed under subtle
domes in the irregular pancake surface. The bigger the cavity
underneath, the gentler the slope above. Newly popped sinkholes were
already occupied, but their deadly tenants (whatever they were) were
slow to react. One member of the party made it out alive from the
second breakthrough, though she left part of her foot behind. It took
two more breakthroughs and more loss of life before the survivors
realized that the caps were springier than other parts of the pancake
surface.
As
they toiled on toward the next portal they encountered fresh horrors:
steaming rivers of molten butter; a viscous red fluid that pursued
them relentlessly until they managed to trick it into a tremendous
sinkhole; and fantastical white mountains that were so unstable a
heavy footfall could unleash a deadly cream flow.
Finally,
the portal was in sight. Its eldritch glow was by now so familiar
the pulsing arch seemed like home. Wilson broke into a run, but
stopped abruptly when Jordan screamed. She screamed and screamed,
pointing at the sky. Wilson looked up. His voice joined hers as
gigantic metal pillars plunged toward them.
"The
Diner! By all that's holy, the Diner cometh!"
End
Publ.
Daily Cabal, Feb. 17, 2011
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