Seedy Underbelly

The crumbling, filthy house had been turned into makeshift brothel, and Moptop luckily escaped to one of the empty rooms. Unfortunately, the barely-standing walls were hardly soundproof, and he was also soon discovered by Dinagelle. She began to regale him with tales of a questionable nature and graphic descriptions of an act developed in the infamous "Petrol Promenade," a downtown nightclub she was known to frequent.

After nearly an hour of this one-sided interaction, Moptop, frustrated, shouted, "Do you just want to do it already!?"

"With you!? NO!" Dinagelle punctuated her repulsion with a slap across Moptop's face.

"Well, FINE!"

Moptop stormed out of the building, pulled a bottle of whiskey from his coat and angrily consumed it. He then got into a car and drove away. Within seconds, he was stopped by two police officers, who approached him smugly.

"Have you been . . . drinking tonight, son?"

"No, I'm going to church," growled Moptop.

Elsewhere, an Asian teenager was discovered to be the mastermind behind the ill-conceived brothel. Unfortunately, the detective who unearthed this did not live long enough to inform anyone else. . . .

Robot Requiem

Moptop looked at the shattered remains of his beloved Jigsaw-Puzzle-Bot, the light now extinguished from the robot's genial smile. Jigsaw-Puzzle-Bot's brave sacrifice had led to his untimely death at the hands of Sumo-Bot, who had propelled through the air and crushed him. Though J-P-B had performed a brilliant maneuver to avoid the blow, his light metal casing simply wasn't enough to withstand Sumo-Bot's massive weight. Only one thought now consumed Moptop's mind--vengeance would be his. He passed El Canucko and the others and left the stadium.

Under the starry sky, he was met by Ellynnorr, and the pair walked away into the night. Meanwhile, another robot descended from the sky, landing at the feet of J-P-B's remains. The celestial robot cried metallic tears.

A Fighter's Destiny

The commercial for the latest fighting video game was quite exciting. "Fashion your own fighter! Choose from a classic template or STRIKE out on your own." Images of colorful, flamboyant martial artists and wrestlers flashed across the screen. "Then prepare to FIGHT!"

Moptop was intrigued by this. Perhaps if he used one of these fighters, he could defeat Mearle in this tiring, cat-and-mouse battle in the forest. But he then realized he was still standing high on the rickety, wooden staircase leading to the treehouse. Upon this revelation, he promptly lost his balance and fell off.

The Ballad of El Fugitive-o

"Now, Moptop! Kick them open!"

Moptop was in the midst of a horrible garden party that was taking place in his backyard against his will, but Mearle had subversively placed two egg-like canisters in the grass. Moptop didn't precisely know her plan, but he kicked both of them, causing them to shatter. A cloud of green gas billowed out of the broken eggs, choking the party-goers.

"Run, Moptop! Run to Miskatonic!"

Moptop had already started running, but stopped in his tracks.

"Miskatonic? Hell no! I'm not going there."

The party-goers, however, began to chase him before he could continue protesting, so he sprinted across the yard and jumped over the fence.

Though he only seemed to run a few blocks, passing familiar scenery, he suddenly came across a small motel that appeared to be on the Mexican border and slipped inside.

"This could be a good place to hide for a moment," Moptop thought. He didn't want to actually get a room there--he likely couldn't afford it, anyway--but he could sit in the lobby and formulate a plan. Perhaps he could steal some fruit from the kitchen and have some food for the road, as well. He wandered into a back lounge where he saw Moptop II, the gay man who shared his name, playing a piano. This struck Moptop as odd on several levels. Near the back of the room was an old cigarette machine, and Moptop considered buying a pack to celebrate the strange freedom that this flight allowed him. However, he decided this would not be a good use of his meager funds. Focusing back on his plan, Moptop pulled out his phone, only to find that it was dead. Cringing, he realized that he would have to return to his house to retrieve its power supply. Complications had already arisen.

Sneaking out the back door and down the stairs, Moptop nearly bumped into a member of the motel staff, who looked at him with great surprise, then spoke. Moptop felt a rush of anxiety through his body. This man spoke only Spanish. Moptop would have to attempt to use his feeble grasp on the language.

"Uh, perdón." Off to a great start. "Estoy . . . estoy . . . llamar a mí . . . uh . . . casa."

The man looked at Moptop skeptically.

Just then, Moptop saw Sloacula ascending an adjacent set of stairs. "Moptop?" he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, hey!" Moptop replied. "Hang on." Moptop turned back to the staff worker. "Lo siento." Moptop felt slightly saddened that he easily remembered how to say "I'm sorry."

"Estoy llamar con . . . uh. . . ." Moptop resorted to simply pointing at Sloacula. "He's my friend."

"Oh, he's your friend?" the man asked. Moptop was furious to realize the man could speak English all along, and was probably just watching Moptop flounder for his own amusement.

"YOU BASTARD!"

Great Show, Awesome Job!

The hidden TV camera showed the various cast members approaching the theatre and nervously entering. Some arrived by train, some were walking, and some even emerged from a manhole in the street. Baldo, tired of running, rode through the streets on the top of a bus.

The camera panned over to Gunther, who was wearing a green suit and grinning mischievously. "Now, folks . . . you won't believe what we do next!" A drumroll was heard, and with a great flourish, Gunther pressed the red button. The screen froze as the building exploded, the credits rolled, and the audience roared with laughter.

Courtesy and Goodwill

As Moptop walked toward the mall entrance, he intersected paths with a middle-aged woman, and Moptop reached for the door first to open it for her. He held it open, but the woman stared at him for several seconds, pulled a phone out of her purse, and began texting.

Moptop was furious at this brazenly impolite behavior. "Look," he shouted at her. "You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack! You may find yourself in another part of the world!"

Nole and Cajun Mother gently pushed Moptop through the door as the woman continued staring and Moptop continued ranting. "You may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile, lady!"

Swank

As he followed Dietrich onto the makeshift, pool-table stage in the basement, Moptop couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to go horribly awry. Dietrich strapped on his guitar and began playing--it was a song Moptop knew, but had never actually played, so he did his best to follow along. Just when things were starting to fall into place, the lights in the basement dimmed slightly, and three students from Miskatonic emerged from the small crowd.

"Dear God," Moptop thought. One of them spoke.

"Okay! Well, that was good, but since we're here to do a music ed workshop, I think we'll step in and discuss here."

"You've got to be kidding!" Moptop exclaimed. The girl laughed and began her presentation. Though outraged, Moptop was unsure of an effective plan to quash the proceedings. He decided it would be best to seduce one of them, and began a half-hearted attempt to do this as Dietrich provided the appropriate "wah-wah" guitar accompaniment. The response from the recipient was lukewarm at best, so Moptop decided to simply leave.

He wandered to the center of the city's marketplace, where he found a nightclub and slipped in amongst the patrons. "Swanky joint," he thought, as he considered the decor and fashion of those inside, which were all evocative of the 1920s. Most of the women were dressed in furs and the men in white tuxedos. He stood under the main support arch of the building and gazed up at the paintings on the ceiling.

Mr. P appeared from the crowd and approached Moptop. "The acoustics in here are incredible!" he proclaimed. "I can't wait to sing in here!"

Moptop was about to respond, but caught a peripheral flash of a figure running out of the club. It appeared to be one of the formally-attired women he had seen milling about.

Mr. C tapped Moptop on the shoulder as Moptop started to follow the woman. "Have you noticed the acoustics in here? Wow. They're just great."

"Yeah, I noticed," said Moptop, who then ignored Mr. C and continued following the woman.

She had stepped outside into the rain in the alleyway, where she was approached by a street waif selling newspapers. As the child approached, trying to goad her into buying a paper, the woman pulled out a tommy gun. Moptop dove behind a garbage can.

The woman pulled the trigger, pelting the child with thousands of bullets. However, Moptop realized that the gun was actually more of a high-powered flashlight, as it was shooting beams of incredibly bright light. "You're gonna wish you had some eyedrops now, kid!" the woman screamed, laughing maniacally as she continued the attack.

The authorities soon arrived on horseback and apprehended the female gangster, and the removal of her evil presence had surprising results. Moptop noticed that many of the shops' wares began disappearing.

"Ah, no more unnecessary expense!" sighed a relieved shopkeeper, whose basket of corn had shrunk to half its size. "You see," the man explained, "If there is less of my corn sitting out, more will be bought and less of it will rot. Try some and see!"

The man held an ear of corn into Moptop's face.

"Try some!"

"No."