Tiny

One Month

One month.

That was how long Syringeon ordered him to rest. One month for his arm to recover properly.

Which was too long in Bittergiggle's opinion.

A whole month without using his arm? That was impossible!

How was he supposed to do his jokes without his arm?! Without Philbert?! Philbert was his right-hand man in-jokes! Hehehehehe.

Jokes aside, Bittergiggle needed his arm back in working order. He had a lot of stuff that required two hands to handle them, and being reduced to only one arm was a serious setback to his plans.

And a hindrance to his normal escape routes in the Kingdom.

An arm that was in recovery wasn't something he could work around, especially if he ran into the Sheriff. Bittergiggle was fast on his feet, but Toadster was pretty quick with his throwing stars, and the jester wasn't keen on having more injuries to his body just yet.

Not until his arm was fully healed first.

Which meant that he couldn't risk being on the same floor with the Sheriff.

For a whole month.

It was torture.

Bittergiggle loved company.

He loved being around other living, breathing, talking beings. Beings who could talk back and share conversations with him. Beings who could tolerate his presence. Beings who, if they were being nice, would only roll their eyes in disinterest of his jokes instead of telling him outright how bad his jokes were.

Beings who didn't outright hate him.

Of course, the only being Bittergiggle could think on the top of his head who could possibly fit all those things was his minion/pet Kittysaurus, and she was still in the Kingdom back in her room. And that was too much of a risk to take.

So weighing his options, Bittergiggle decided to stay on the floor below the Kingdom until his arm healed enough to go back.

And it was torture.

For someone who strived on social interactions, Bittergiggle had a hard time keeping his sanity in check. It didn't help that his clothes were in a bad state and he couldn't change them, but the surroundings reminded him of old memories.

Memories he wished not to revisit as they tended to open some nasty wounds.

Yet it was pretty hard to ignore most of them, so Bittergiggle chose to stay in the one place that had the least amount of fond memories. The Introduction Sector.

It was really the only place Bittergiggle didn't have any fond or grand memories. A room with a big screen? Hardly anything to look at. And since the humans didn't bother to come down to the lower levels these days, Bittergiggle was left to his own devices to do whatever he pleased in the place.

Which, to be honest, wasn't very much.

With only one arm that wasn't in a sling, Bittergiggle had, and could, literally nothing to do except sit around telling jokes to an empty room.

An empty room wasn't a great audience, mostly due to the lack of an audience to hear his jokes. As much as he was aware of how bad his jokes were, Bittergiggle still wanted someone's opinion on some of them.

Kittysaurus always liked them, but she was his loyal friend, and she couldn't really tell him what she thought about his jokes. His two clones back at his hideout never gave him their opinion.

In fact, they never spoke a word to him, and he was starting to think that maybe they weren't even alive at this point.

Which was disappointing. Two more failed potential ultimate jokesters. Four dead clones out of six. Seven? He wasn't sure if he should count the one that could split into two as a single being or two separate beings who could merge into one.