Fribert and the Moles

Chapter 1: Fribert, Frobles, and the open flame

Fribert the magical swamp Froggy thing lived in the land of the odorous Rainbow Sponges. In this land lived the mole people- an infinite number of hole-dwelling creatures who enjoy cheese. Life was good in “the age of the MOLE.” Rainbow Spongeland was notorious for its trees that bore spongy fruit that emitted deliciously intoxicating spores.

Fribert was the only swamp Froggy thing left of his kind, mostly due to the fact that magical swamp frogs’ life spans seemed as short-termed as their memories. This particular frog had wandered away from his swamp at a young age, and had thought it a good idea to make himself a part of mole society. The mole people, with the sharp claws and teeth, did not like this prospect and delivered their wrath in the form of biting Fribert on the buttocks. Angered by the moles’ attempts to remove his hind end and affected by the loss of his beloved swamp, Fribert went on a randomly maddened sporking spree, stabbing many moles with the tainted eating utensil and causing overall uproar until his unfortunate capture.

Fribert ended up in jail. Fribert was now a stubby Froggy thing living in jail. Prison life did not suit the frog- he was forever famished. The moles were not unreasonable and agreed to feed him. They gave him cheese, the mole people’s only cuisine. Fribert, to the mole people’s disgust, hated cheese.

Angered by Fribert’s repulsive cheese-hating habits, they shoved him onto an open flame. Fribert started popping and began to smell like burnt cheese. The mole people were getting hungry. Anxiously they climbed up onto the fire, jumping desperately and reaching for the not-quite-cooked Fribert. Many of them fried like rats.

Somehow, Fribert escaped with only burns to the small stubby remains of his butt. He decided that he would spend the remainder of his Froggy life seeking vengeance from the evil cheese-loving mole people …

While hopping clumsily through the rainbow sponge forest, he discovered a small, chubby, cheese hating mole napping under a tree. This type of mole was very rare. The mole, named Frobles, had been thrown out of CheeselovingMOLEville at the start of the yearly cheese ceremony. Frobles had spoken his opinion of cheese aloud when he was commanded to lead the cheese parade. King Bla Bla, ruler of the mole people, was upset by his potty mouth-ish ways.

Frobles had two choices- leave or get eaten…moles smelled and tasted of cheese. He chose to leave. Fribert and Frobles had one more major thing in common- they were infatuated with the rainbow sponges of the forest. Fribert, too high on the sponge scent to care, forgot about his vengeance seeking thing. The frog and mole outcast both rambled on about the bright pink sponges that didn’t smell like cheese. Fribert was getting dry and his bottom was crusty.
Frobles was asleep, extremely high from sponge-smell, and was snoring very loudly. It sounded remarkably like “moley moley moley…” Fribert, bored, started dragging his scabby butt around, wiping the crusty butt flakes onto the ground. Then he spotted it.

Fribert found his swampy, smelly, slimy pond. With a dazzling leap, he splashed in to the swampy, smelly, slimy pond. Little Froggy toe things started magically growing out of the frog’s stubby charred legs. Fribert yelled with delight. Frobles came awake. Fribert continued to yell. He was healed, his beautiful Froggy legs had returned!!! He had always known that this pond was magical! Fribert was in his own happy world of bliss. Frobles was merely furious at Fribert for waking him.

Then it all went wrong. Even after Fribert had his legs back, the magical glow was still there. Toe things were still growing…Fribert was becoming a mutant frog with an infinite number of legs! A frog’s brain does not work very quickly. It took Fribert four minutes to determine that getting out of the pond would be the best idea.

Fribert attempted to hop out of the pond but the glowy green Froggy toe things were making it impossible. Fribert went for the next idea. He made a lasso of his tongue and hooked himself a tree. After five minutes of struggling desperately, Fribert made it out of the swampy, smelly, slimy pond.

Frobles was becoming a really annoyed cheese hating mole. Fribert’s attempts (to be put nicely) had to come from the mind of a frog. Frobles watched as Fribert came flopping up the bank. Angered by Fribert’s stupid ideas, Frobles started smacking Fribert across the face. He was yelling, “I hate stupid Frogs and cheese-loving MOLES!” over and over in the process.

Soon afterwards, Frobles wasn’t paying attention (he sensed the presence of beetles…mmmmm beetles) when Fribert picked up a big piece of sponge and started beating Frobles with it. After their rambunctious ordeal Fribert sat angrily on the other side of the pond while Frobles picked blue and green sponge bits out of his head.

Fribert was getting hungry…he eyed Frobles. He had not eaten anything before he left CheeselovingMOLEville. Fribert was starving! Fribert was trying to be nice and started talking to Frobles in MOLE language, “Ioley amoley hungryoley.” Frobles, remembering that Fribert had just beaten on him with sponge, decided to say nothing. But frogs’ minds don’t remember anything. Fribert continued to talk.

“Ioley hadoley funoley wailingoley onoley youoley. Ioley amoley hungryoley. Ioley amoley goingoley toley eatoley youroley moley selfoley…”

Unfortunately, Fribert did not speak fluent Molish so Frobles couldn’t understand a word he was saying. The frog decided a new approach. He would merely have to go and eat the stupid hole-dweller.

Fribert tried to get up but was having major difficulties with the infinite number of Froggy legs he had. Then he had a marvelous idea. He began to gnaw upon his many legs. The radioactivity of the pond had killed off his nerve cells so he couldn’t feel much. After he had satisfied his Froggy hunger, and reduced the number of his legs to seven, a strange but manageable number, Fribert wasn’t feeling hostile to Frobles anymore.

Instead, Fribert decided to take a nap. He snuck off and made himself a bed from lots of smelly purple sponges. He breathed in the scent of the purple sponginess. It was nice. He slowly fell asleep while sniffing sponge scent.

Fribert awoke with a start. He had gone too far, gotten too sponge-high. He had slept too long. He looked around. Frobles was gone. Where had that chubby mole gotten off to? Then Fribert spied a mole hill. Naturally. The mole was tunneling. He could be anywhere. Fribert was not going to waste his time trying to find Frobles. He would have to leave without him.

XxXxX

Meanwhile, underground, Frobles was having a mole of a time. He loved to tunnel. Tunneling was fun. He had found four earthworms to snack upon and he was on a roll. Perhaps he would find that beetle that he had smelled earlier… He was chasing after a large nightcrawler when it happened. He hit a huge underground cellar of cheese. It was dreadful. There was so much cheese! Frobles immediately vomited up the worms he had worked so hard to find. He was now furious. He stamped angrily around, raging for a few moments. This proved to be a bad idea. His tunnel collapsed, and he could not dig through it again- he was too tired. Surely he could not sleep here in this horrid place! He had to escape, but how…

The cheese smelled so bad that he shoved dirt up his nose to keep the cheesy moley smell out. The mole was dying. He had been in the cheese for many hours now. He was sick and running out of oxygen. The dirt refused to remain lodged in his nose and Frobles could not find anything else to block out the horrid smell in the giant sea of cheese. He merely lay there, moaning and gagging.

XxXxX

Fribert was catching flies. He would snap out his sticky frog tongue and nab one, and then another and another. Mmmmmm… he loved flies. He had not bathed for days, so the flies were plentiful. But of course, Fribert had already eaten his own legs, so there was not much room for flies. But Fribert liked to stuff himself often.

Fribert was getting high off of the smelly rainbowesh colored sponges. There was a fly trap hanging in the Rainbow Forest. Fribert saw the many flies stuck to it. God, they looked so good, he thought.

Fribert became frustrated with the seven legs he still had; he stumbled off of the log and started eating his legs again. He was down to 3 legs, an even more manageable number. However, now he was completely full and had no room at all for flies. Fribert cried sadly as he stared at the sticky flytrap. So tasty… woe was Fribert the swamp Froggy thing. Suddenly, the frog heard a moan that sounded a bit like a mole in agony. It was coming from underground. Fribert hiccupped. He had eaten too much. Maybe he would take another nap. He heard the moan again. He yawned. Perhaps he would go to sleep. The moan again. Drat it, that thing was getting annoying. The frog sniffed a nearby sponge. Perhaps the sponge smell would make the noise go away.

Fribert fell asleep. He had stuffed sponge into his ears after sniffing it thoroughly. He was in magical Froggy dreamland, with smelly sponges and no Frobles. He did not know or care that Frobles was trapped in a giant sea of cheese. He liked sleep.

XxXxX

Frobles had finally passed out among the cheese blocks. He wasn’t doing very well. Soon he stopped breathing altogether. A glowy light filled the chamber of cheeses. A green and shiny apparition began to hover above Frobles’ cheesy smelly moley body. Frobles magically awoke. The green thing, which he now recognized as a mole with wings, began to speak.

“Frobles!!! Tokkolee toolee meoleee!!! Iolee havolee aolee planolee toolee saveolee youlee!!! Golee toolee theolee redolee lightolee!!!”

The green winged mole spoke perfect Olde Molish. Frobles was glad that he had taken Ancient Language courses in Moleyville High School. He nodded at the green guy and squinted around for a light. He saw none. Well, this certainly was helpful… He looked questioningly at the green moley mole, but it only looked back at him. Then he saw a red EXIT sign. It was perched perfectly above a dark tunnel. Frobles could not see the tunnel in the darkness, and it had not occurred to him that the red light might indicate a way out. He could not read.

Frobles was a dumb moley mole… Everybody in high school had called him retarded because he was the only moley thing of their kind that could not read the freaky Molish, and didn’t eat their smelly cheese of DOOM!
Frobles went toward the shiny red light. He was very near to it when he finally realized that it was a tunnel. He was overjoyed and began to dance. Then the glowy green guy hit him in the head with a lump of cheese and yelled, “Hurreeolee upolee andolee leaveolee, stupidolee!!!!” This jarred the mole’s brain and he began to drool. He stumbled toward the tunnel and headed out.

XxXxX

Fribert had lost track of everything. He had lost all memory of Frobles, CheeselovingMOLEville, the open flame, and moles in general. Getting high on sponges too many times will do that to a frog with an already poor memory. He was hopping around on his three legs and trying to catch wasps. He knew that he liked flies, but he did not remember what they looked like. These buzzing, flying creatures would have to do. Fribert caught one. It stung him. He caught another. This one stung him as well. By the time Fribert was full, his mouth was so swollen he could not breathe.

He was just about to pass out from lack of breath when he was rapped very hard over the head with a moley mole claw. It was Frobles. The mole called the frog some very rude names for leaving him behind, but Fribert did not remember Frobles so it did not matter. He collapsed from lack of breath and Frobles, still angry, left him for dead.

XxXxX

Frobles was lonely. It was very annoying being alone. He wished he had a companion. However, alone was better than being with that stupid frog. He wished he had a mole friend. Then he found a container. He was thirsty. Maybe the golden teapot thing had some tea in it. He held it up to his mouth and shook it. Then he raged some more and beat it. He decided on a new approach. Maybe if he tried some moley magic he could make himself some tea… He jumped around a bit and said some nonsense words and gave the golden teapot a rub.

A moley genie came out. Frobles screamed. This wasn’t tea!

“Three wishes,” said the moley genie.

“Three wishes?” repeated Frobles. The genie replied yes. The mole thought for a moment. He wanted some tea. And a female moley moley friend. And… lots of beetles.

And so he had them. He wasn’t sure why the moley guy had given them to him, but he had them just the same. A large collection of beetles, tea, and a very large and friendly looking mole chic called Drobles.

Chapter 2: Jim and Drobles, Fribert’s Amnesia, and of course Goobles and his pot

Drobles was a blonde female moley looking thing……Frobles was in love. Frobles forgot about Fribert lying on the ground, passed out and dead. All he could think about was Drobles his femaley moley friend he now had from the genie. He was glad to have someone apparently competent to travel with.

A drop of water fell out of nowhere and hit Frobles directly between the eyes. He screamed and ran around in circles for a few moments before he realized what was going on. Drobles and Frobles had to find some place to hide away from the lightning and thundering. Frobles obviously hated rain…

Drobles led Frobles into a huge fallen hollow log. He settled in with his large box of beetles. All was well with Frobles as he sat, thinking of his infatuation with Drobles and beetles. He ate many of the beetles, but Frobles was not selfish. He shared with Drobles. And Drobles was not ungrateful. When Frobles decided to make tea and realized he had received dry tea bags, Drobles sympathized with Frobles’ fear of rain and went out into the storm to get him some water. Then she made a fire just outside the log and put a teapot on.

Frobles did not know how Drobles had made a fire without dry fuel or how she had conjured a teapot from nowhere, but he liked tea too much to question Drobles’ ways.

And so, the two moles sat in the rotting log, enjoying their magically conjured tea and discussing life. They spoke for many hours. Frobles expressed his desire to get as far away from CheeselovingMOLEville as possible. Drobles smiled in a moley way and suggested they travel to Antburg. Frobles questioned the blonde mole about this “Antburg”. It was a wondrous city, Drobles told him. Full of tasty bugs, as many as a mole could eat. Frobles was intrigued. What kind of bugs could be found? Ants, she replied, loads of huge, juicy, yummy ants. Frobles immediately agreed to accompany Drobles to Antburg.

XxXxX

Fribert’s mouth swelling had gone down, and, miraculously, he had survived. He awoke in the Rainbow Sponge Forest, right where Frobles had left him, confused and disorientated. He could remember a mole…hitting him over the head and calling him bad names. Fribert wasn’t sure why. He did not even question the fact that he had three legs, for it had been that way for as long as he could remember, which was about eight hours. He was hungry. It was dark. He did not know where he was.

Fribert remembered being infatuated with the rainbow sponges of the Rainbow Forest. Fribert grabbed a bright pink sponge. It looked like the mole who had hit him over the head. Fribert felt lonely. Fribert started to cry. He squeezed the sponge so hard the powdery stuff shot right out and into Fribert’s nose. Fribert did not remember this feeling. He wasn’t sure he liked it. It was scary and impaired his froggy vision. Little did Fribert know, he had just ingested a lethal amount of pink sponge spore powder, enough to kill even the toughest of forest creatures.

Fribert had gotten sponge-high enough times to kill off any living brain cells that he had left. The lethal sponge powder was no longer enough to kill him, though it was a rather painful overdose. The three-legged frog did not understand the pain of the sponge smell. It was not fair. Fribert did not enjoy this headache. What was going on?

He could not remember anything, but he was sure that this had never happened before. Fribert decided to travel to the leader of this strange Spongeland to discuss the matter of the evil sponge powder.

Fribert was making his way out of the Rainbow Forest- that is, until he noticed something shiny. Fribert had never seen anything so shiny in his short-lived Froggy life. It was a silver coin lying in the green sponges. After reaching down to pick up this shiny thing, Fribert saw many more.

Fribert looked at the coin. The coin had moley gibberish written on it. He slipped it into his pocket (yes, the frog had pockets, albeit invisible froggy ones) to lean over and pick up another coin. And then he spied an infinitely long line of the shiny things. Fribert followed the trail for what seemed like many frog hours but, in reality, was only twenty minutes.

Fribert was starting to get hungry. He wondered how the shiny coins tasted, as he had too many in his froggy pockets to carry any more. He tasted one, and then another. He had eaten about eight of them before he decided that he did not like them. However, he could not put them into his pockets. They were so shiny that he didn’t want to leave them, so he just kept eating them. He wasn’t paying attention to the path at all. Without warning, Fribert ran into something, bounced off, and fell to the ground.

If it had been anyone other than Fribert, he would have immediately recognized the creature for what it was. It was a short midget moley mole man, clad in green, decorated with shamrocks, and tugging on a large pot of silver coins. He only noticed Fribert when the frog ran into his green moley backside. He tipped his shamrock hat at Fribert and grunted, “A little help would be nice, you. Yes, you, the three-legged one.” Fribert was frightened. The green mole looked, well, green. Where did the green-ness come from? Was that mole moldy? Fribert did not like mold. It grew on things, covered them in green fuzz, and, most of all, intimidated him. Wide-eyed, Fribert slowly backed away from the leprechaun mole.

“Whatsamatter?” The moldy mole demanded. “Doncha know who I am??? I am the Great Moleysheik! The leader of all leprechaun moles! I command you to help me to move this great pot of silver moley dimes to King Bla Bla’s palace!”

The moley leprechaun was speaking very quickly. The only word that Fribert got out of his monologue was the word “king”. Fribert wondered if it was the leader of the forest, and so he asked. The green mole sighed. “Yes, yes, of course, now, come and help me!” Fribert saw that there was a very large hole in the side of the pot. He doubted very much that the moldy mole had noticed, so Fribert addressed the mole as Mister Moleysheik and began to ask him a very important question that was already fading from his mind.

“The name is Goobles!” The mole interrupted. Fribert, slightly annoyed and about to lose his train of thought, quickly continued and inquired about the hole in the pot. Did he know that there was a hole in the pot? Goobles didn’t.

He looked at the hole and then at Fribert’s bulging froggy pockets. He began to stamp around in rage, like many moles tend to do. He then began to yell at Fribert, much like another mole had once done, and calling him some of the same names. He yelled that it was the entire fault of the stupid three-legged frog; Fribert had cut a hole in his beautiful pot and stolen many of his shiny silver dimes!!! He then demanded that Fribert give them back. The confused frog returned the dimes from his pockets. He did not remember eating any of the dimes. He had the memory of a Froggy thing.

After the mole had reclaimed his dimes and used some shamrock-designed tape to cover the hole in his pot, he demanded Fribert’s help once more. Fribert suddenly forgot why he was here. He agreed to help Goobles.

Together, Goobles and Fribert pulled the pot of dimes through the Rainbow Sponge Marshland. They made good time with Fribert pulling on the pot and Goobles pushing. However, Fribert was getting tired, and he was not quite sure why he was pulling on a pot full of shiny things.

XxXxX

Frobles and Drobles had made good time also. They were just leaving Rainbow Sponge Forest when Frobles caught smell of something delicious cooking. Mmm…bugs, thought Frobles. His stomach growled in hunger. Drobles was hungry too. Frobles and Drobles had already finished off the box of beetles and left the empty box in the fallen log. The tea was gone as well. Frobles had never thought that a mole could possibly eat so much. Drobles was like a bottomless pit. But Frobles wasn’t concerned about the issue at that moment.

There was the scent of frying caterpillars on the air, and Frobles was quite determined to find the source. He dug a tunnel. Drobles followed him under the earth. They tunneled for as long as a mole can go with small amounts of oxygen, with Frobles carefully paying attention for the scent of an underground cheese cellar. There was only the caterpillar smell. There was also a sound deep within the ground. It was the sound of a creature’s humming. Frobles, as stupid as he was, decided to follow the sound. He dug and dug until he eventually toppled out of his tunnel into a secret room deep within the earth. Drobles followed in the toppling.

The room was the oddest they had ever seen. It was a small room with little space, but it was obvious that someone had lived there for a very long time. The walls were papered with bits of litter like gum wrappers and such. Rainbow sponges were everywhere. There was a small, rickety table in the middle, and a large bed in one corner, and a small cooking fire in the opposite corner. The humming was coming from an iguana, who was stirring a pot on the fire with a ladle. He did not seem the least bit concerned that a pair of moles had just fallen into his home. On the contrary, he went to his iguana-ish cupboard and pulled out two more bowls. He scooped up three bowlfuls of the caterpillar-scented stew and sat them on the table. He then smiled an iguana smile at his new guests and urged them to come join him in his meal. Frobles and Drobles happily obliged.

XxXxX

Once more, Fribert had lost his thread of memory. He was no longer surrounded by smelly sponges. He was pulling on a pot of shiny things, and a green moldy mole was sitting on top of it and yelling.

Fribert was having a hard time moving. His froggy legs hurt. But the moldy mole man was scary and Fribert did not like being yelled at. Also, his froggy tummy was paining him. He did not remember eating the moley dimes, so he did not know why he had indigestion.

Eventually Fribert collapsed, and he was immediately kicked, jumped upon, and yelled at by Goobles. When the mole was satisfied that Fribert could, indeed, go no further, he sat on his pot of silver and pouted angrily.

XxXxX

Frobles was perturbed. The caterpillar stew was delicious, but he could not help but notice that the iguana had done nothing but stare at them since they fell into his home. Drobles had not seemed to notice.

“Om Jim, bay the way,” a strangely accented voice came from the green lizard, “Hoor yoo?”

Frobles could not understand a single word that he had said, except for “Jim”. Drobles, however, smiled sweetly and replied,

“Um Drubbles in this hers Frubbles. Snice tuh meet yuh, Jim.”

Jim seemed taken aback at Drobles’ imitation of his accent and responded with a “Haay now! How is it thut yoo kin unnerstand me, bit yore frind seems tuh be uh bit cornfoosed? Wut kin uh critters ah yoos, ennyway?”

“Were moles, muh gud sir!”

Jim squinted at Drobles. “I dunno. I seen mulls bafore, and yoos don’ luk much like mulls tuh me! Mind ya, me eyes ain’t wut thay yoosed ta be neether.”

Drobles grinned toothily at Jim, who smiled back. Frobles’s female moley thing offered to help Jim with the tea. Frobles heard them whispering near the fire. He wondered what they were talking about. He wasn’t concerned, however. The caterpillar stew was calling to him, begging him to eat it.

XxXxX

After several hours of sitting on the pot of moley silver dimes, Goobles became worried. Fribert the magical swamp froggy thing had not stirred. It was growing dark. He didn’t want to think about all of the evil creatures that lurked in the dark. He was sure that all of them would enjoy eating a green leprechaun mole. Goobles climbed off the mound of silver and toppled onto the ground. He gave the pot a tug. It did not move. He gave it a push. There was nothing. Goobles stared woefully at the money for a moment before grabbing a few handfuls of the coins, stuffing them into his algae-colored pockets. He set off, waddling in the direction of the setting sun.

With his mind hazy and his body aching, Fribert awoke. It was dark. The pot of dimes was nearby and the green mole was not. Fribert was confused. Where had that moldy mole gone? He blinked at the infinite shiny things. Why did the mole leave them here? Fribert looked around. He had no idea where he was. Twenty foot tall trees surrounded him. Looking more closely, Fribert discovered that they were not trees at all, but gargantuan orange and yellow-spotted mushrooms. Fribert smiled happily at the pretty colored mushrooms. He climbed a mushroom-tree and peered out across the countryside. There were giant mushrooms as far as his froggy eyes could see. He sniffed. They had the most peculiar, yet pleasant smell. They were almost better than the sponges! Fribert giggled. They were so nice! In his froggy mind, Fribert was happy.

XxXxX

The caterpillar stew was gone. Frobles sat back in his chair, patting his bulging waistline happily. It did not occur to the mole that, under normal circumstances, his moley-girlfriend wouldn’t be allowed to talk to other male animals. He was a stupid mole, and he did not understand moley dating.

Drobles was sitting across the room with Jim, still whispering. They kept shooting malevolent glances at Frobles, but, naturally, the mole didn’t notice. Now that the stew was gone, he was chewing thoughtfully on a biscuit, thinking about bugs. It was only when the pair of them attacked that he realized that something was wrong. They pounced. Jim stuffed a sock in his mouth while Drobles wrapped him up with what looked like homemade rope. Then Drobles began to tunnel. Eventually, she emerged from the hole to wave goodbye to Frobles. Jim followed the female moley thing back into the tunnel and to the outside world. There was much controversy a few months later in the nearby city of Antburg, where it was rumored that a mole had married an iguana, and that the couple was expecting children.

Naturally, Frobles knew nothing of this- he was an unintelligent mole, and did not care about rumors and talk from places far beyond himself. He finally escaped from the ropes and gag, but he neither knew nor cared about why he had been tied up in the first place.

Chapter 3
The Fate of the Froggy and Moley Things

Fribert sat happily atop a giant mushroom, completely lost. He had a few shiny things in his froggy pockets, and he did not know why. He thought he remembered a moldy someone yelling, but he had the mind of a froggy thing, and he couldn’t tell for sure. These thoughts did not dismay him. The mushroom was comfortable, and he was about to take a nap.

Then the rain came. It was a slight drizzle at first, and Fribert was quite enjoying it. He was a frog, after all, and though they are amphibious and can live on land, it is not pleasant for one to be dry and crusty.

The drizzle steadily built up to a full-fledged downpour. Fribert, who was being pelted with very large raindrops, cursed the giant creature that he was sure was taking a shower somewhere in the sky. He was not a smart froggy thing. It did not occur to Fribert to take shelter. He sat atop the mushroom, mind blank and head aching, being beaten to death by giant raindrops.

He did not know how long he had been sitting there before he fell asleep in the painful rain. But the next thing Fribert knew, it was dark and the rain had stopped. Froggy things do not like the dark much, especially unaccompanied Froggy things. Fribert was lonely, and more than a little afraid. He slid off of the mushroom and hit the ground with a flump.

“Ouch!” yelled the flump. Fribert was confused. Flumps didn’t usually yell “Ouch!” He sat for a few moments, contemplating his discovery of the yelling flump, when it poked him in one stubby buttock and growled, “Are you gonna get off of me or what?!?” At this, Fribert was knocked off of what he had landed on and fell into the mud. He looked up to see what had yelled at him.

As it turned out, it really WAS a flump. It was odd to see one of the large, rather fat mammals within the land of mushrooms; they were native to the Pezzapuk grasslands. The flump itched one of his long, pointy horns with a huge brown paw. He glared at Fribert for a full minute before turning around and lumbering away. Fribert watched him leave.

He sat there for a long time, inhaling mushroom spores and thinking about nothing in particular. That is, until the mud puddle underneath him was no longer a mud puddle. All of the water was draining away. Fribert stared. What was the meaning of this? Suddenly, a mud-covered monster popped up out of the empty puddle. Fribert screamed the kind of scream that can only come from a three-legged frog on mushroom spores. The monster whacked him over the head with a muddy digging claw.

It turned out to be nothing more than Frobles. How he had ended up here, of all places, no one knew. Fribert did not recognize him. However, Frobles knew very well that this was the stupid cheese-hating frog that he had come across earlier. It was only the fact that Drobles was gone that made Frobles decide to continue to travel with Fribert once more. First, though, he had to let off some steam. He yelled. He yelled about the cheese cellar, the green see-through mole, the mole that wasn’t tea, Drobles running off with someone of a different species…

Fribert, however, was drooling slightly and staring off into the nothingness of the mushrooms. Frobles was sure that the frog’s brains were beyond addled, as he was already lightheaded from the smell, and Fribert had been exposed to it for God-only- knows how long. He sniffed the air in a pointed and annoyed sort of way, and then waddled off in the direction that he hoped would lead him out of this place.

Fribert snapped back to reality for a moment. He could have sworn that he had seen the face of that mole before. He thought it best to follow this suspicious character. Still dizzy and twitching slightly, he made his way toward the mole. Sadly, he was not able to move quite as quickly as Frobles. He passed out after only a few minutes. Frobles did not know…nor did he care.

When Fribert awoke, he was surprised to find that he remembered where he had been when he slipped into darkness. However, he was no longer where he thought he ought to be. Rather than being covered in mud on the ground in a cluster of giant mushrooms, Fribert found himself in a dark and damp place that smelled a bit like moldy cheese.

The frog was not at all happy to smell such a stench. Had it just been mold, he would be uncomfortable. But for it to smell of cheese! Fribert could think of nothing worse. He squinted around in the darkness. Even a stupid froggy thing could tell where he was- a cellar. It was a cellar that smelled faintly of cheese. Somewhere in the back of his froggy mind, an alarm went off. He could have sworn that he heard something about a cheese cellar before. But who had said it? Perhaps that crazy mole who had been yelling? Fribert was unsure.

If Fribert had graduated from high school, he might have deducted the reason that the cheese stench was not overpowering. He was in an empty cheese cellar. The cheese had been removed months ago, leaving only a trace of its everlasting scent behind.

He did not know how long he had sat there, pondering the bars that covered his small area of cellar and the other sections that looked just like his…but there was suddenly a ray of light shining in from a hole near the ceiling. Had the sun come up? Fribert was sad. He did not want to be in this cheesy place. He would rather be sniffing mushroom spores and getting more impaired by the moment. He heard the sound of moley waddling and witnessed the familiar mole being placed into a cell like his own. He did not bother to contemplate this mystery.

XxXxXxX

Shortly before this, Frobles met another female moley thing. He never knew her name, but she was the most gorgeous mole he had ever set his beady eyes on. He followed her for miles, realizing too late where the mole was going. The next thing he knew, Frobles was standing in the middle of King Bla Bla’s courtyard. He had been following Bla Bla’s daughter.

Unfortunately for Frobles, Bla Bla was outside and had witnessed the mole entering his courtyard. He was thrown into the royal cellar, informed that he was in for a rather nasty surprise, and left to smell the evil stench of cheese.

The empty cheese cellar was horrible. It was dark, damp, moldy, and cramped. Frobles was locked in one of many tiny cells that lined the walls of the cellar. There was a puddle in the corner of his cell that was emitting an odor rather like fried pork. He eyed it warily, retreating to the opposite corner of the dark cage.

XxXxXxX

Three days later, an exhausted and rather hungry Fribert was still inside the dark place. He had just about given up all hope of escaping the place when the light appeared again. This time, however, his cell door was opened by an uninviting mole with a crooked frown. The frog was commanded to follow and, though he did not know why, Fribert did.

Soon he was standing in a high place, and there were lots of moley creatures down below, looking up at him. Beside him, there were some other people- the green moldy mole and another moley person who he thought he should recognize.

A voice came out of nowhere- Fribert did not know that King Bla Bla was sitting lazily on his throne behind the prisoners as a servant held up a scroll and read loudly.

“Hear ye, hear ye…today, on this day of dreadful celebration… we shall vote to determine the means of death for three criminals. The first, Goobles Moleslave the Third, has failed in his mission to retrieve King Bla Bla’s ten thousand dimes of moley greatness. The second has been charged with trespassing in the court of King Bla Bla after previous exile…”

There was a resounding gasp from within the crowd. The servant cleared his throat and continued, “The third is one who is not of our race. He has invaded our borders and over-utilized the advantages of the mushroom spores. For this, these three will be put to death.”

Then something happened that Fribert had never seen before. The servant read off a lot of things that sounded like they would hurt a lot, and then the moles all raised their clawed hands at different times. He heard his name a couple of times, but he did not know what it all meant.

The next thing Fribert knew, he was on the open flame again, and the moldy mole and the familiar mole were gone.