Chapter 5 – The Mighty Monument
“Welcome back to the land of the living!” Hamish said after Zelig groaned his way awake on Hamish’s back.
“Where are we?” Zelig mumbled.
“You’re on my back. I knew you’re tired and didn’t want to wake you. And as for all of us, we’re back in the lift. Pyrite’s taking us to change this slip for some tullacks. Can you walk?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that’s actually fainted before,” Celia snipped with good humor as Hamish let Zelig back onto the floor. Having a credit slip for a good sum of tullacks had filled her with too much joy to actually warrant bullying him.
“I thought she was going to kill me. My life flashed before my eyes.”
“Really?”
Zelig nodded, staring far off into the distance. “It was so incredible; I saw every book I’ve ever read, and…” he paused frowning.
“What is it? The only time I’ve seen you so seriously in thought are those times when you’re reading and afterwards ask me, ‘Have you ever heard of Mongolioose?’ or something odd like that.”
“Umpa’s stories flashed more often than I would’ve thought they would. I mean, like every one in four or five images.”
“I always told you that they’re the greatest thing in Lumbidoor.”
“Maybe,” Zelig said, possibly even considering it.
“Who’s Umpa?” Niero asked, rubbing his shoulder. When The Boss had thrown him into the elevator, he had smashed his shoulder hard, though insisted he barely felt it.
“Umpa’s why we’re here,” Hamish said. He’s the oldest person in all of Lumbidoor and he can tell stories like nobody else.”
“I love stories! And I’m pretty good at telling them, too. For instance, the thing about money is that it never seems to stay where you left it.” And so it was that the three Lumbans got a story about the phantasmal elements of Pyrite’s favorite subject. With his bushy tail wagging behind him, Niero led them down the street, his pace undiminished by his tale. Celia was impressed by his ability to talk seeming without thought, like his pointy little canine mouth was a water spigot that was left on.
The four hours they had spent inside the station had hardly changed the city at all. The heavy black cloud that always hung over it had sighed into a wider, flatter ring, but that was about it. Neon lights scissored and danced up and down, revealing small dips and gaps, like inverted hills in the cloud. Zelig was so relieved to be free of the station that he did not even realize how much he was enjoying their walk.
“‘…Under the livery!’” Pyrite quoted with a brief laugh. Looking around, his smile twinkled in his eyes. “And here we are.” They had stopped at the foot of a tall green glass building. “Thneed Greed Bank! Inside, you can do almost anything you need: cash slips, change money, get loans, pay bills, and even buy stock.”
Through the revolving doors, they found queues of
A moustache with glasses was at the desk, busy with its computer screen. The fingers attached to the hands attached to the arms of the moustache danced across a globe on the edge of its desk. Zips, zooms, zaps, and booms tinged from the monitor. The name plaque on the moustache’s desk read: Therem O’Badu.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your charming company tonight, Mr. Pyrite?” Therem O’Badu drawled without turning its spectacles from the monitor. “Have another run-in with The Boss of the Grand Thneed Taxi Company again, hmm?” ( Read more... )
