1
Better to Be Taught a Fool
It was with the exaggerated motions of a child pretending to tiptoe past an imaginary monster in the hallway — one foot rising high above the other, then travelling in a slow and silent arc back towards the ground — that the three mysterious trespassers crept across the lonely cloud, undetectable but for the bizarre shadows which their strangely-shaped silhouettes cast upon the roofs of warehouses below in the omnipresent light which shone from all corners of the sky above them. It was early morning — too early for any but the most industrious or insomnia-afflicted Cupids to be up and about — and an invasion force was making its way towards the spookiest house in the Homeworld.
“Most irregular conduct, captain,” mumbled one member, their arms crossed. “Wouldn’t have tolerated the like in my day! Give me a cracking good knock-knock joke and a banana peel beneath my foot over unarmed incursion into enemy territory any time, wot? Old Archibald wouldn’t have stood for —“
“Aw, quiet, will ya?” growled the larger figure in front, pausing to look both ways with great suspicion. “I’m not gonna hear any more o’ this mumblin’ and complaineratin’! What’d the pipsqueak say, huh? Only way our Time Scrambler’s gettin’ fixed up is if the ol’ Toymaker herself comes poppin’ back out — or if we can find some fancy new way to charge it up again!”
“Lighten up, pals…” chimed the third voice, as its owner clapped the others on their backs with the sound of a honking bicycle horn. “Remember the name of the game! We can’t start moping around just because of a little “““forthcoming eldritch danger”””! We…”
The third figure pointed boldly towards the sky, calling forth bursts of confetti from parts unknown.
“…are the Faction of the Fooling Fish!”
“Yeah, well don’t go announcin’ it t’ the whole neighborhood, why don’t ya!?” growled the figure in front.
“Hmph.” added the one in the middle. “You’ve got a streak of old Archibald’s spirit, missy, but one helping too many of his reckless disregard for the structure of a good prank. I used to say to him, Archibald, old boy, what you really need — “
“Aw, enough o’ that!” said the figure in front. “Come on! Time’s a wastin’, and until we’ve finished up here, it’s gonna stay that way!”
Turning decisively towards the door of the monstrous house which now loomed before them, Captain Scherzo straightened his cowl.
“Codswallop! Claptrap! Pies at t’ready!”
The others obligingly lifted their perfectly-aerodynamic pastries. Scherzo raised his brawny fist.
“Aim!”
He brought his fist down upon the door, then looked on in disgust as the flesh which surrounded it retracted.
It roared.
Then there was fire.
*********
Boatswain Claptrap was the first to extract herself from the heap of singed companions and doorway spittle. Leaping unfazed to her feet, she spread her arms, sending the unsettling goo and ash flying neatly off of her form and onto her still-dazed shipmates.
“That sure packed a punch!” she declared, pounding one fist into the other. “Hmm…”
With a wave of her hand, she produced a mortarboard cap from thin air, then placed it atop her head with a flourish.
“This’ll take some serious thinking.”
She paused, then shook her head.
“Silly thinking.”
Behind her, the others had begun to stir, with decidedly less enthusiasm than she had shown in the endeavour.
“Grrr…” began the Captain, in his usual tones. “If these so-and-sos think they’re gonna have themselves a fish-fry on my watch, they gotta ‘nother think comin’!”
“Tactical retreat seems the best course, eh?” asked Codswallop, with a note of hope in their voice.
“Not a chance!” replied Claptrap, already marching back towards the house. “That wouldn’t be very funny, now would it?”
“Now see here — !”
“Aw, she’s right, and y’know it!” said the Captain, rising to his feet and brushing off his charred costume. “Come on! We’re not gainin’ anything lyin’ around here like a couple o’ frozen mackerels, now are we?”
Rubbing at their back, Codswallop followed the others as they retraced their path. The trio of Fooling Fish reached the house yet again, then paused before the nearest window, which lay several feet higher than the eyes of even the Captain.
With a grumble, Scherzo hoisted an eager Claptrap above his head. On level with the window, she formed a pair of binoculars with her beflippered hands and peered inside.
“Whaddya see?” grunted the Captain from below.
The twisted glass seemed to warp and shimmer strangely as Claptrap gazed upon it, her eyes dancing across the surface but never quite seeming to penetrate its depths. She squinted, focusing on a shape that danced in the middle of the window — a blur, fiery and red, which gradually rippled and resolved itself into a strange form. She could just about make out the silhouette of an infernal figure, eerie and frightening — sporting curving horns and pointed teeth and yellow eyes which stared back into hers through the thin membrane of glass.
“There’s some kind of… demon,” she replied, curious.
“Yeah,” came the voice of the Captain, wavering strangely, “yer not kiddin’!”
Claptrap blinked, then turned around to see the demon in question hovering behind her, staring down at the trio of Fish with its catlike gaze — the same that she had seen reflected in the window.
“W — we weren’t doin’ nothin’, honest!” stammered the Captain, lowering Claptrap to the ground as he backed against the house, shying away from the fiery form. “Cross my heart and hope ya die!”
“You are that band of mischief-makers who put the ichthys to shame in showcasing the arbitrary nature of what meanings the spawn of the fifth day have been made to represent,” said the demon, with great disinterest.
“Uh…”
“The Faction of the Fooling Fish, at your service!” replied Claptrap, extending a hand. “Bringers of general fun and merriment!”
“Hm,” said the demon, before turning and calling over its shoulder with a voice that seemed to carry through the very fabric of the world despite its quiet and even tone: “Larrikin!”
“Wh — what’s that ya said, now?” asked the Captain, sounding scared. “One o’ those deem-o-nick curses ya hear so much about?”
The demon sighed.
“Alas, no,” they replied. “It is with some distress that I find myself entirely unable to call up any disdain for you or your lot, despite what great depths of irritation I know a version of myself once felt for all who travelled in your band. Indeed, I find myself forced to begrudgingly respect your aims, at least in some abstract manner of appreciation — though not, I think, to so great a degree that I must extend that same respect to any individual member of your trying troupe.”
The demon shook their head.
“But I do suspect that my dear Larrikin will find some interest in you, whatever form that may take.”
“And, uh — “ replied the Captain, looking shaken. “Just what exactly is a Larrikin?”
In response to that query, the demon simply lifted a finger towards the skies. Within a few seconds time, an approaching object with something of the likeness of a copper comet became apparent — then crashed into the celfoam, bounced back, and landed on its feet with a grin.
“Hiya, Sneer!” greeted Larrikin with his usual insouciant care. “Time?”
“Fifteen seconds.”
“Nice!” cheered Larrikin, pumping his fist. “I was all th’ way over in the construction building lookin’ at wrecking balls. Uh, by th’ way, if Foreman asks, the hole in the wall is Philatel’s fault.”
“It is noted.”
Finally taking stock of the place to which he had been called, Larrikin glanced at the trio of Fish, then nodded thoughtfully, as if assessing the situation.
“It is those perplexing marauders who call themselves the Fooling Fish,” Sneer explicated. “I spotted their ship as it drew in through the fabrics of this place, and thought to notify you of their presence here.”
“Thanks, Sneer, old pal!” said Larrikin, as he approached the Fish. “Yeah, I remember you guys. What are ya doin’ hanging around Jenny an’ Thymon’s house, anyway?”
The three Fish glanced at each other, then nodded in silent agreement that they were in the presence of a kindred soul.
“Our Time Scrambler’s busted,” said the Captain, pounding his fists together. “Kaput! All dried up. See, we Fish ain’t exactly known for our punctuality. Time was, soon as we’d finally get everything prepared, there’d only be an hour or so left o’ April Fools’ Day! An’ time-travelin’ back to the beginning just didn’t feel fair-an’-even-like.”
He shook his head, distressed by the thought.
“But the Time Scrambler swishes everythin’ back-an’-forth in meaty-time!” he continued. “Makes it so it actually is April Fools’ Day again, all proper-like. Oh, I’m not one of those quantum physicians, but it’s all got kind of a different taste to it.”
“Quite,” added Codswallop. “And we have been informed that, given the Toymaker’s current absence from the playing field, so to speak, we’ve no hope of getting the Scrambler repaired without recharging it ourselves.”
“And the only thing that could do that,” Claptrap continued, unfolding a pair of spectacles from her pocket and sitting them haphazardly upon her nose, “is a source of equally-potent metatemporal energy!”
“Yeah,” finished the Captain bluntly, as he jerked his thumb towards the door of the house, “And we heard they had a little tyke like that.”
Larrikin rubbed at his chin.
“Ya wanna steal Sophie?” he asked. “I don’t know… Sneer an’ I always follow the tried-an’-true N.O.W.I.T.C.H. rule.”
“The what now?”
“It’s an ackeryman,” Larrikin explained proudly. “It stands for ‘No Operating like you are a WITCH‘.”
“We do not spirit innocent babes from their cradles,” Sneer put in. “Or incorporate anyone into a baked good, who does not verily deserve it.”
The Captain nodded, obviously intrigued by the moral code.
“Not steal,” Claptrap said. “Just temporarily borrow! Just to the Fish’N’Ship and back!”
She pointed to the ship, docked on a distant cloud. Larrikin nodded.
“Oh, that’s okay, then.”
“But we can’t get in!” the Captain complained. “Can’t even look in through the window!”
“Our knock was repelled,” said Codswallop, brushing lingering ashes from their costume. “With, I might add, entirely undue force.”
Larrikin shook his head.
“That’s because you’re inexperienced,” he declared.
“Inexperienced?” roared the Captain. “Us? Why, I oughta… !”
Larrikin clasped his hands behind his back, gazing imperiously at the Fish as he paced back and forth.
“Oh, out in th’ multiverse ya might be top notch stuff,” he continued. “But in here, you’re outta your depth. You’re like, uh — like some kinda animal tryin’ t’ live outside the place where it usually lives.”
He pointed to himself.
“Ya might be pretty good at what ya do, pals — but when it comes to prankin’ the Homeworld, you’ve got a lot to learn from me.”
The Fish glanced at each other.
“He’s right, boss,” Claptrap whispered. “Besides, the more the merrier!”
“It… would seem to be the strategic option,” Codswallop put in, nodding uncertainly.
The Captain grunted.
“Aw, alright, alright,” he snapped. “But it better not take too long! We’ve got places to be!”
Larrikin grinned.
“Meet me at th’ nearest abandoned warehouse in five minutes!” he called, already leaping off of the side of the cloud with Sneer in tow. “And bring snacks!”
*********
Seated upon dusty crates in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, the Fish could not help but feel somewhat out of their element — a feeling which the entrance of Larrikin, dressed in a tweed jacket and bowtie and with a pair of large spectacles perched upon his face, did little to alleviate. Sneer followed, holding a haphazard stack of books and blueprints which looked rather more like they’d been chosen for their impressive thickness than for any practical purposes at hand.
Pulling a portable chalkboard behind him, Larrikin came to a stop a few feet before the Fish, then drew out a pointing rod and indicated what appeared to be a chalk-doodled diagram of the house into which they intended to break.
“Sneer an’ I have played plenty o’ pranks in, around, and throughout Jenny an’ Thymon’s house,” Larrikin began, circling the drawing with the pointer. “An’ we’ve become experts at navigatin’ th’ place.”
He turned, facing his class with a stern eye.
“With my help, you, too, can become masters o’ this deadly terrain,” he continued, before gesturing to Sneer. “My most successful student, an’ current teaching assistant, will distribute notepaper t’ th’ class as I begin my lecture.”
“Larrikin,” said Sneer, dropping the stack of books to the floor, “We did not bring notepaper.”
“Magic some up!” Larrikin decreed, before turning back to the chalkboard. Sneer began to carry out his instructions, and the Captain began to grumble.
“Now just you wait a minute here, pally!” he exclaimed. “We didn’t sign up for any lectures! Just tell us what we need t’ know!”
“Now, now, Captain,” said Codswallop, their eyes fixed to the front, “This could be valuable strategic intelligence!”
At the chalkboard, Larrikin whipped around.
“No whisperin’ in class!” he snapped. “I needta prepare my notes!”
“Yeah, well, this’d better not take too long!” the Captain yelled back.
“Can it, Billy Bletcher!” Larrikin shouted, hurling an inkpot which shattered on the wall behind the Captain’s head. Turning back around, he made to sit down upon a stately chair which Sneer had materialised behind him, only to find Claptrap in the process of placing a thumbtack upon it.
After a moment’s silence, he nodded his solemn approval.
*********
Thirty minutes’ worth of increasingly chaotic classroom time later, the trio of Fish stood outside the fencing which surrounded the Department of Construction’s headquarters, peering through the slats. The Construction Cupids were beginning to arrive to work, falling into line at the sound of Foreman’s shouting as it echoed from his perch atop one of the largest construction trucks.
“This is a waste o’ my time!” griped the Captain, as Claptrap sorted through scores of increasingly unlikely-looking lockpicks which she’d chanced to be carrying somewhere in the pockets of her costume.
“The practical’s just as important as the heretical!” said Larrikin, pacing behind them as he adjusted his spectacles. “Before I can officially declare ya graduates o’ my class, I hafta make sure you can handle a real-life Homeworld prankin’ situation!”
He pointed to the distant figure of Foreman.
“Ya just hafta sneak a bunch o’ balloons with faces drawn on ’em into his truck so when he opens the door, he thinks he’s bein’ attacked by a hundred floating ghouls. It’s a time-honoured prank. Don’t worry, Foreman’s a good pal o’ mine.”
“All set here, sir!” Codswallop announced, lifting the bundle of balloons which they had recently finished filling with helium. Crooked smiley faces peered out from all angles.
The Captain continued to grumble as, with a click, Claptrap finally got the gate open. Larrikin hurried them inside, then watched as they crept off towards the truck.
“Always wanted t’ try that one,” he said, nodding. After a moment, he turned towards Sneer, raising his arms to indicate the oversized jacket which covered his form. “They better not be too long. I gotta get this stuff back t’ Dandy before he notices it’s gone.”
2
Time Foolery
Another fifteen minutes later, the Fish — bruised both physically and emotionally by tossed spanners and fierce insults courtesy of Foreman, but with a glow of pride at the fact that they had all been sustained after the successful pulling of the instructed prank — reconvened outside of the targeted house. Larrikin and Sneer stood by, the former nodding with approval as he looked his students over.
“Ya’ve made me proud!” Larrikin announced, removing his spectacles to wipe a tear from his eye. “I pronounce ya all graduates o’ Larrikin University, the Homeworld’s most prestigious academy o’ higher learning, an’ it’s only institution accredited by the Larrikin Board o’ Evaluators. Sneer, make ’em some diplomas!”
As Sneer set to work on the diplomas, the three Fish shook Larrikin’s hand one-by-one and began to file towards the house.
“Alright, we’ve gotta get this done!” the Captain announced, setting his jaw. “April Fools’ Day will be over and gone before we know it!”
“Remember my teachin’!” Larrikin called after them. “I believe in ya!”
After a few seconds’ walk, they reached the window, and steadied themselves.
“Right, then,” said Codswallop. “Remember what the professor said!”
The others nodded. Steeling themselves, they took a breath — then leapt backwards, away from the window, as hard as they could. There was a rush of air and a shared sensation of vertigo as reality seemed to twist around them — and then they landed with a smashing of glass on the inside floor of the house, having fallen through the window.
“It worked!” Claptrap exclaimed, leaping to her feet. Creeping around the mixture of ordinary-looking furniture and piles of slavering ooze that made up the sitting room into which they had entered, she started for the nearest doorway leading further into the house, and the others followed.
The hallway was dark and cavernous, its walls seeming to creep upwards at an impossible angle until they met with a ceiling that was always just a little bit higher than it had seemed a moment before. Their hearts fluttering, the Fish made their way down the vast central pathway, which seemed to ramble ever further downwards by degrees into an impenetrable darkness which hung in the distance.
“It is just me,” asked the Captain, “Or is this place gettin’ bigger as we go along?”
Indeed, what had once been nothing more than an imposing hallway was now absolutely out-of-scale with the tiny figures who walked upon the vastness of its field-like floor, growing relatively smaller with every step as the hallway continued to imperceptibly expand before them.
“More than that, Captain,” added Codswallop, “Or less, really; I rather think that’s all it’s doing. Look at the patterns on the walls. We’re not getting any further.”
“You’re forgetting again,” said Claptrap. “We’re Fooling Fish! We’ve got to keep up the spirit!”
“That’s all well and good, miss, but it doesn’t mean anything in a practical situation like this!” Codswallop exclaimed. “Why, we — “
They blinked, then looked again to see that Claptrap was in the process of cartwheeling down the hall, leaping from floor to ceiling with unseeming ease. Landing at the nearest doorway, she waved at her companions, then hopped through the door with a comical honking sound.
“Hmph.”
With the distance breached by another, the hallway seemed to start playing fair, enough to allow the others to reach the door as well. They entered, and all three Fish found themselves in what appeared to be a coat closet.
“Larrikin told us about this!” Codswallop exclaimed. “Stay on your guard!”
“Just a sec!” exclaimed Claptrap, darting into the mass of clothes.
Not a moment too soon, it seemed; for a second later the jackets and scarves surrounding them had started to rustle and whisper — and then the floor-length mirror on the far wall began to grow, stretching to fill an area larger than there had been space on the wall. A shadowy figure appeared within it — the idea of a human form, with no specific facial features to give it any further identity.
“Jeeennnyyy…” whispered the rustling of the clothes, growing in fervour as the faceless figure in the mirror stared out at the Fish, its features flickering briefly into skeletal reflections of their own faces. “Where is Jeeennnnyyy…. You are not Jeennnnyyy…”
Writhing and snapping, the clothing began to twist towards the Fish, scarves and jacket sleeves forming grasping claws. They reached out, preparing to grab their victims and pull them away into the shadows — but another figure leapt out from the corners; a small woman in a jacket, scarf, and goggles.
“Hiya!” she called. “It’s me! Jenny!”
The clothes halted, still rustling.
“Jeeeennnnyyy…”
With a twitch, the mass of fabrics fell still, the figure in the mirror shrinking back into a proper reflection.
“I’ll just be going!” she announced. “And taking my two friends with me!”
Taking their hands, Claptrap pulled her companions through the adjoining door and into another, smaller hallway, where she discarded the extraneous items of clothing.
“Hm. Good work,” mumbled Codswallop, to an exaggerated bow from Claptrap.
“That was, uh, pretty scary,” said the Captain, looking shaken. “Wh — what did that little Cupid say t’ do next?”
“Weren’t you taking notes, then, Captain?” said Codswallop. “Mustn’t let good intel go to waste, wot? On alternate Mondays, he said, the third door in this hall tends to lead towards the bedroom we’ll be wanting. Follow me!”
Codswallop began to stride purposefully across the floorboards, and the others trailed them.
“Now, then,” they said, laying a hand on the doorknob, “We must simply hope that the… obstacle he mentioned is not in play at the present time.”
Codswallop turned the knob.
The room beyond was dark — much too dark for a child’s bedroom. The Fish looked around with despair at the low-hanging fog of dust and the piles of fabric which covered the ground.
“Carefully, now…”
The three began to creep carefully through the room with bated breath, heading for the identical door on the other side. They had nearly reached it when the Captain stumbled on a bit of fabric with a squeak.
They froze in their tracks.
The bit of fabric began to rise from the floor, and the others joined it. The three Fish looked on in horror as ragged teddy bears, dolls, and stuffed toys of all kinds shambled towards them, eyes glowing with otherworldly magic.
“The child’s discarded toys!” Codswallop whispered. “Lost in the boundaries between doorways.”
“Well don’t just stand there gogglin’ your peepers at ’em!” the Captain shouted. “Get me outta here!”
He ran for the door, and the others followed at speed. The discarded toys kept coming, shuffling along as if moved by an invisible hand, malice evident in the blue glow of their bead eyes.
The door was locked.
“Well now what are we gonna do, huh?” the Captain asked, looking panicked.
“Fear not, captain,” Codswallop replied. “I was taking notes.”
Taking a breath, they raced past the mass of lost toys.
“I was making paper airplanes,” Claptrap put in. The Captain nodded in agreement, as the toys drew ever closer.
On the other side of the room, Codswallop reached the door which they had entered through, breathing hard.
“It’s all the same door, Larrikin said!” they called back. “And this one wasn’t locked!”
They opened the door, and the others rushed to join them in racing through it before the toys could change course. Slamming it behind them, they paused to catch their breaths — and found themselves in the comparatively lovely climes of Sophie’s bedroom.
The room was at once cozy and unending — a warm and comfortable place in which a human child might like to sleep, and an infinite realm for the incubation of a young shapechild, both somehow occupying the same space with no standout discrepancies. It didn’t exactly make one’s head hurt to look at it — but it felt like it ought to have done so. The lights of newborn cosmos danced above the crib, forming and shifting as the child below them slept and dreamed.
The Fish peered into the crib. There she was — little Sophie, the metatemporal energy source which they required, nearly crackling with an aura of power, yet as sweet and as innocent-looking as any ordinary toddler. Her blue hair twirled and stretched as she slumbered, holding on to the bars of the crib and wrapping around the strange plush toy that lay beside her — obviously a beloved favourite, and resembling some sort of one-eyed jellyfish with a hat.
“Hey, Captain,” said Claptrap, looking slightly worried, “Isn’t that the guy whose hat we — “
“Aw, never mind the specifics,” said the Captain. “We gotta get this over with. Er — let me handle the anklebiter. I’ve got experience and suchlike.”
The Captain began to reach into the crib — but was given sudden pause by a sound from behind. The sound of an engine whirring.
The trio turned.
There, looming behind, stood the star of what had been Larrikin’s most insistent warning — to avoid the Vacuum Cleaner.
Tubes flailed, motors churned, mouths snapped, laser-guns primed, and claws swiped as the machine drew forward, its scanner glowing red. The purple metalwork of the machine gleamed in the places where it showed through an ever-spreading blanket of flesh of all colours — the words ‘Drake Autonomous Vacuum’ shining through a pulsating membrane of veins and arachnid eyes. Having clearly started out with far too much surplus weaponry for the purposes of any vacuum cleaner, the machine had been as warped by the house as any object which was made a part of it — a hybrid of mad science and eldritch magic, which was now making its way towards the hapless Fish, looking as displeased as such a machine possibly could.
“AL𝖎𝖊N D𝖎RT DE𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙ED,” it droned in a voice that was equal parts robotic buzz and guttural hiss. “RE𝖒𝖔𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖚𝖓KN𝖔𝖜N 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙AMINANTS.”
The Fish scattered. Pausing for a moment to decide on a course of pursuit, the Vacuum spun in place, hissing through the teeth that lined its main suction port as the scanner lights directly above blinked back and forth — then made for the Captain, beginning a circular pursuit around the sleeping child’s crib.
With a call of ‘charge!’, Codswallop rushed what they had determined to be the machine’s blind spot, aiming for an ambush — only to find themself swept into the air by one of the roving tentacular suction tubes, the talons of which quickly dug into Codswallop’s flesh, nearly drawing blood as it held them in place high above it.
Thinking fast, Claptrap laid a hasty net of silly-string in its path, only to find her plan meeting a similar fate as the Vacuum sucked it all up with a grinding of teeth and a howling of hellish agony from a void that lay somewhere deep within the mechanism. She felt herself being pulled towards the icy abyss as well, but held fast to the leg of the crib, which was melded to the floor.
The Vacuum kept coming, eyes and sensors set on the Captain, primed to kill. Codswallop squirmed, Claptrap dug her nails into the wood — and the Captain, pausing in his circular flight, set his jaw.
“Aw, enough o’ this! I’m not gettin’ pushed around by any hunk o’ junk, and that includes you!”
He stood fast — then, as the Vacuum Cleaner approached, drew back his fist and socked it squarely in the center of its holding chamber. With a shriek, the Vacuum was flung backwards, out through the doorway and down the hall, its victims flying free in the process.
“Run for your lives!” called the Captain, and the trio fled.
Slamming the main door of the house behind them, the Fish emerged back into the light of the Homeworld outside. Taking a breath, the Captain sighed with relief — a relief that was short-lived, as his primary goal reasserted itself.
“Aw, we forgot the kid!” he growled. “Some April-the-First this turned out t’ be!”
“Nah, I’ve got it!” came the voice of Claptrap from behind. Blinking, the Captain and Codswallop turned to see that Claptrap was in fact holding the child — more in the fashion of a sommelier than a caring parent, not that the delighted-looking Sophie seemed to mind.
“Well, hot dog!” exclaimed the Captain. “Come on!”
3
Time Makes Fools of Us All
“So ya actually did it!” said Larrikin proudly, following behind as the trio of Fooling Fish climbed up the rope ladder which led to the deck of the Fish’N’Ship. “I’ll probably give myself tenure for this.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve still gotta get the pipsqueak back into that horrorshow,” grumbled the Captain from above, climbing with one arm as he held Sophie in the crook of the other.
“One thing at a time, captain!” came the voice of Codswallop, as they climbed onto the deck. “Let’s recharge the Scrambler first.”
On board the ship, the three Fish, plus the tagalong duo of Larrikin and Sneer, began to make their way towards the cabin. The Captain had just reached out to open the door — when all were struck to the hearts with horror by an unearthly wail.
Sophie was crying.
“I think I recognise that kind o’ sound!” shouted the Captain.
“As do I,” Sneer affirmed. “Many a dying demon has produced the like.”
“Naw, naw!” said the Captain. “She’s hungry!”
“Well, what’s she eat?” Claptrap asked. “Pie?”
“I should think not!” Codswallop exclaimed. “Larrikin?”
Larrikin shrugged.
“Don’t look at me! Out o’ my pals, only Dandy’s allowed to babysit, and only if all the hats and distractin’ stuff like that are out o’ sight, an’ he promises not to use her as a sewing dummy.”
“Well, there’s not any cooks or anythin’ aboard,” the Captain said. “We left everyone else on th’ good old Prime Earth to take care o’ the pranking there while we got this sorted.”
After a moment of frantic searching through his pockets for any forgotten fruit or possibly a box of cereal, the Captain shook his head.
“Aw, let’s just take her to the Scrambler real quick and let her parents feed her. She’s just a kid, she can’t be too hard to deal with!”
The others nodded, then started again for the cabin — only to pause at the realisation that the crying had stopped. Glancing back at Sophie, they realised that this was because she was about to sneeze.
“Aw,” said Claptrap. “Cute.”
“There, there, little one,” said Codswallop, leaning in. “We’ll have you back at homebase in two ticks.”
Rather than the usual outrush of air, however, the sneeze was accompanied by a blue flash, and the tangible sound of a clock reversing. Codswallop blinked. Then, as their baffled companions looked on, their body seemed to shrink — their long nose retracting into a very different kind of snout as their skin was covered over by scales.
The rest of the crew were suddenly looking down upon a very confused-looking tiktaalik.
Sophie, her hunger momentarily forgotten, began to giggle with glee at the sight, as the Captain very gingerly set her down upon the deck.
“Um,” said Claptrap, “Is that normal?”
With another giggle, Sophie put her hands over her eyes, then removed them, looking straight at Claptrap. All present felt the distinct and unusual sensation of a ancient tree’s growth reversing as Claptrap began to shift and change — first into a tall man in a black suit (‘sir?’, croaked the scaly voice of the tiktaalik), then a broader, stern looking gentlemen, then back and back and back and —
Sophie, now nearly crying with laughter, began to hover. Sharing a glance, the Captain and Larrikin took several steps backwards.
“Uh — “ said the Captain, “Ya know what I said about her bein’ just a kid?”
“Yeah, sometimes she gets like this,” Larrikin replied. “But I didn’t wanna discourage ya.”
“Well, can’t you do something?” the Captain snapped at Sneer. “Bein’ the devil and all!”
“I am not any of those unpleasant men,” Sneer replied, crossing their arms. “And I do not count myself a fool, whatever else I may be.”
On the deck, the tiktaalik cowered beneath the shifting Claptrap’s feet — but its respite was short-lived. With a final shuffling of leaves, her form stabilised — revealing a very confused-looking woman wearing a nineteenth-century Italian dress.
“Cosa sta succedendo?! Where am I? Madame Broomsticks, is this your doing, strega cattiva?”
The tiktaalik scattered backwards, looking as frightened as an ancestral vertebrate possibly could. Its flight came to no avail, however, as the woman quickly hoisted it by the tail.
“That rotten family usually goes in for ravens,” she muttered. “Where is she? First she steals my best conjuring potion, then she spirits me away to the heavens — I’ll turn her into a toad for this!”
Beyond the bizarre fray, Sophie spun delightedly in midair, hair unfurling to its fullest. Pushed outward by the Captain, Larrikin approached with great and uncharacteristic caution, waving up at her.
“Hiya, Soph!” he called. “Remember me? I’m th’ best one. Anyway, d’ya think — “
Giggling, Sophie pointed at him, and the Captain was certain that he heard dice rolling. Larrikin blurred, then smeared into a very different robot — tall, with a static smiling expression and bendy limbs, one of which terminated in a crossbow-like arrow-launcher in place of a hand.
“Hi!” it buzzed. “I’m CupidBot Unit 1029 — a product of Hartnell Labs! Please hold still — this won’t hurt a bit!”
The announced arrow simply bounced harmlessly off of Sophie’s ever-stronger aura — but a fire seemed to come over Sneer’s eyes. Flames dancing with unusual fury, they began to expand to the height at which Sophie was floating, horns elongating and eyes multiplying.
“What have you done to Larrikin?” they hissed. Sophie frowned, seeming on the verge of tears — then pointed decisively at the demon. There was a flash of heavenly light — and Sneernobiel the Self-Righteous was standing on the deck, staring amazedly at its hands.
It didn’t have much time to contemplate this sudden change in its circumstances. Sophie, tiring out and growing weary of the game, was beginning to descend, her aura dwindling — and the angel flickered back into Sneer. Then back again. And again. Sneer tried to focus on stabilising their own form — and tore in half with a snap.
Sneer and Sneernobiel looked at each other, and the demon recognised in the angel’s eyes the tell-tale signs of oncoming Celestial Panic Mode. There was an agent of the enemy here, and that superseded all other thoughts. Sneer felt hatred rising too — but thought of the maverick Larrikin, their role model, and chose to break all customs and set it aside.
“Let us think this through,” they said.
Sneernobiel drew its flaming sword.
“Thou shall die, foul fiend of hell!”
As Sophie, bleary-eyed, began to touch down on the deck, the tiktaalik raced from the hurled lightning bolts of the Italian sorceress, nearly stumbling on the uneven boards of the Fish’N’Ship. Darting behind the nearest structure, it looked up to see the eerily unmoving face of CupidBot Unit 1029 — which quickly turned its gaze to the furious form of the approaching sorceress.
“Stand aside, android!” she proclaimed. “I will smite that familiar of my treacherous foe!”
“Ha ha!” laughed the robot emotionlessly. “You look like you could use some love! Stand still, please. This won’t hurt a bit!”
“Dare point that at me!?” shouted the sorceress. “Ha! Sciocco! How do you like this?”
There was a flash, and the robot dwindled down into a toad. A robot toad, with a webbed arrow-launcher. Its head swiveled to face the tiktaalik.
“Ribbit ribbit!” it said. “I’m ToadBot Unit 1029. You look like you could use some amphibian-based love!”
The tiktaalik croaked fearfully and scattered away, the ToadBot in hot hopping pursuit.
Trying not to look at the glorious battle between Heaven and Hell, which hurt his eyes, the Captain crept towards the child, who seemed on the verge of sleep. Lowering himself down, he began to pick her up — but she stuck her tongue out at him, obviously cranky. There was a flash of light, and the Captain found himself beginning to hunch over, a long beard sprouting from his chin and travelling towards the deck.
“Aw, phooey,” he grumbled. “I wasn’t ready for the old sailors’ home.”
Sophie closed her eyes.
In the corner, the ToadBot cornered the tiktaalik and readied its launcher. Behind, the sorceress raised a lightning bolt with full smitefull intent — illuminated in the glow of the divine clash which was occurring behind her. Arrows clicked into place. Lightning crackled. Pitchfork met sword.
Then there was a terrible crash, like galaxies colliding, and all on deck were suddenly struck by the unique and terrible feeling that destiny itself had chosen to look directly upon them while in a very bad mood. The light of the sky was drowned out by an electric blue spotlight so bright that it washed away every feature of the Fish’N’Ship, and all aboard turned to see a writhing mass of tendrils as broad as the roots of ancient trees and the star-speck of an eye as furious as a dying sun.
“WhAt Is GoInG oN?!”
*********
“In our defense —” began Codswallop.
“No.”
“In their defense —” began Larrikin.
“No.”
The assembled party glanced guiltily at one another, then went back to sitting in sheepish silence. At the head of the sitting room, Thymon stared at them all, holding Sophie in a safety-net style so that every part of her was supported by his tightly-woven tendrils. Jenny sat beside him — much less all-consumingly angry, but certainly desirous of an explanation as to the day’s events.
“Y’see,” said the Captain, “It’s April Fools’ Day, and — “
“i Do NoT cArE.”
“Don’t you like April Fools’ Day?” asked Claptrap, producing a pie and a party horn from behind her back.
“No, I dO nOt,” Thymon replied. He glared at Claptrap. “YoU sToLe My HaT, aNd RePlAcEd It WiTh A fIsH.”
“Ohhh, yeah,” she mused, nodding. “I knew I remembered you. And may I say, you’re as scary as ever!”
“Now, see here — “ Codswallop began again. “It isn’t that we intended to steal your child — “
“We just wanted to recharge the Time Scrambler!” the Captain added. “It was only gonna take a minute!”
“NoT aN aCcEpTaBlE eXcUsE fOr KiDnApPiNg,” Thymon ruled.
“Look… I know you probably think you had a good reason, even for doing the most incredibly unwise things. I get it! I really do,” Jenny put in. “But the fact is, um, you did steal our child. You see why you can’t do that, right?”
“Because she’s scary, and so is he.” replied Claptrap, nodding wisely.
“No…”
All sat in silence for a moment longer.
“Er — “ said Sneer, after a moment. “If I may?”
“Yeah, go right ahead, Sneer!” exclaimed Larrikin enthusiastically, before anyone else could answer.
“Though I do not feel any particular need or desire to defend these tiresome trespassers who have plagued me all the day through,” they began, “I do feel that I can… understand them, perhaps as well as anyone could. In their pranking and their mischief and their endless madness, I feel in them a desire to enact change, a breaking of structure and of monotony. Thymon, though I do not care for you overmuch and suspect that you do not hold much regard for me, you and I may share this alone: we know what it is to break from roles of such ontology that to leave them behind has changed our very beings. I have come face to face with this truth today, and I see the heart of the alteration — the ability to cast off what is expected and move in ways which baffle all, but which speak, perhaps, of something truer. The change may not be lasting, and the chance may come but once — but there is much that is good in it, regardless. I think that it is this, in all of their bizarre preoccupations, that the Fish mean to accomplish: to bring about this break from what is expected in those whom they encounter, if only for a day. A noble day, despite it all. An April Fools’ Day.”
The assemblage sat in solemn silence for a moment, thinking on the wisdom of Sneer’s words.
“StIlL nOt An AcCePtAbLe ExCuSe FoR kIdNaPpInG.”
“You’re not bad people,” Jenny said, standing. “I know that. So does Thyme. Just… please don’t kidnap any more children, alright? Promise us that?”
“The N.O.W.I.T.C.H. policy,” Larrikin said, nodding sagely. “I tried t’ tell ’em. The students still have much to learn.”
The Captain nodded, as if coming to a firm moral stand.
“Add it to the ship rules, Codswallop!” he ordered. “First priority!”
“With pleasure, captain!” said Codswallop, drawing out their notepad.
The assembled party began to file out of the house, under the watchful eye of Thymon. As Sneer began to close the door behind themself, he hesitated — then sighed.
“wAiT,” he said. “PeRhApS iT mAkEs Me ThE aPrIl FoOl, BuT…”
All turned back to look at him. He held up a tendril glowing with time-energy.
“TaKe Me To ThIs TiMe ScRaMbLeR.”
*********
As the Fish sailed off, whooping and cheering, through the dimensional fabrics, Larrikin and Sneer watched them leave from a cloud below.
“I’m gonna miss ’em,” Larrikin said, wiping his eyes. “How ’bout you?”
“I will not,” Sneer replied.
They stood in silence for a moment.
“Larrikin,” said Sneer eventually.
“Yeah, pal?”
“It is April Fools’ Day,” Sneer said. “Shall we pair ensure that the Homeworld is aware of its coming?”
“I do b’lieve we shall,” Larrikin replied, with a grin. “Come on, Sneer. That was a nice warm-up, but now it’s time to show this place how a real prankster operates.”
Even Sneer couldn’t help but chuckle.
THE END
Written by Lupan Evezan
The character of Sophie Everytime is available for use by anyone, with only one condition. This paragraph must be included in any publication involving Sophie Everytime, in order that others may use this property as they wish. All rights reversed.
The character of Jenny Everywhere is available for use by anyone, with only one condition. This paragraph must be included in any publication involving Jenny Everywhere, in order that others may use this property as they wish. All rights reversed.
The Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids 