The Adventures of Little Tummy and Occasionally Uberstlachen in Oufaloufaland

Part Eight

Little Tummy and Uberstlachen sat down one day to discuss whether they should continue on with the original series and do Part Eight of the Adventures of Little Tummy and Occasionally Uberstlachen in Oufaloufaland, or if they should branch out and do Little Tummy's Adventures as a Near-Perfect Perfection featuring Uberstlachen in a Tube Sock. They thought 'why can't we do both?', and thus Part Eight was born. From the fires of the old Left-Side East forges the tale springs forth, with all the ferocity and raw power of a toothpaste stain.

Little Tummy gargled and spat into the sink. Uberstlachen looked over the top of his paper.

"You've got a bit of simile on you," he said. Little Tummy looked down at himself, but couldn't see anything. He went about the rest of the day paranoid that he had simply overlooked it. One stage when he was particularly paranoid was when they were sitting down for lunch. A spotted larynx rushed up and stabbed him ferociously around the middle.

"Can we pause here for a second, and ask, what is it that I am being stabbed with?" asked the ever-present Little Tummy.

"No," said the larynx, and jabbed him a few more times with his sharpened ash tray (the author may be a silly man, but he's not heartless enough to leave his readers uninformed) before running away to begin his character arc which would end with him dying unceremoniously in the second act of a film that swears it was just passing by, Officer, honestly. Two aspiring poets diverted their course so that they walked within earshot of Little Tummy and Uberstlachen.

"Surprisingly, the turned," said the first. "Be-when shop your mostly."

"Anal gas of the brother?" said the second. They both walked off feeling satisfied that they had made an impact on the world. This was when Little Tummy's paranoia kicked in. Uberstlachen looked down at his plate, where a small blob of wordplay was escaping. It reached the edge of the table and disappeared forever. He looked back up again. Little Tummy's paranoia was fading away.

"Oh oh oh bother," said Uberstlachen, rushing over to the shopping plaza adjacent to them. He grabbed a photograph of water and rushed back. He gently poured the water on Little Tummy's paranoia, stopping for ten minute intervals after every three milliliters, just as it said on the packet. The paranoia was almost rejuvenated when Uberstlachen accidentally poured on four milliliters before the interval. The paranoia sighed and laid its head down dramatically on the table. Little Tummy sprang into action.

"Die! Die! Die!" he shrieked tunelessly, bashing it over the head with a thick "How to Water Your Paranoia With Limited Resources and Only a Mangy Pustule-Resembling Uberstlachen at your Disposal" manual, which conveniently he seemed to be reading at that moment.

Uberstlachen grabbed his hand, and whisked him away from all the Bad Things and into the Kingdom of Smiles and Happiness! The first thing they saw was toad sitting on a throne. It opened its mouth. A hand reached out, grabbed a zipper between the toad's nostrils and pulled. The toad fell away to reveal a hand wearing a sign reading I PULL ZIPPERS ANY PLACE ANY TIME! It walked away down an orifice to their right. Behind it was a largish wasp with an aged human face on the underside of its abdomen. The face projectile vomited into a large, shallow basin before the two visitors. Then this wasp exited also. Little Tummy and occasionally Uberstlachen watched as a baby with an umbilical chord trailing off into the distance crawled up to the basin. It extended a pudgy finger and wrote into the spew: "We find the name of our kingdom ironically funny."

"This place is so gay," said Little Tummy, and led the way back home. Uberstlachen wanted to stay and taste the ulcers on the necks of the beings lined up on either side of a red carpet as they walked away, but wasn't fussed enough to make a scene. Little Tummy took him to the local fruit market for revenge.