"How To Defeat A Green Devil"
Arriving at the entrance to Living Land, Cleo lamented the fact that there were no guards at the gate as was customary. The massive stone archway was ornately engraved with the heads of all sorts of animals, plants, rocks, etc. All had majestic faces carved upon them, and the archway overall was covered with sculpted vines and flowers. The entire effect was quite breathtaking.
“Welcome to Living Land,” stated the archway in a deep, authoritative tone, “Please excuse the mess; we are temporarily experiencing an invasion. Thank you.”
“Grand Archway,” addressed Cleo, “Where is Lived Neerg and his troops?”
“The field of battle is currently in the clearing next to Fountain Park.”
“Thank you,” shouted Cleo in reply. He galloped through with Cindy clinging tight to his mane. Woba picked up tried to pick up the pace, but Lisa wouldn’t hear of it slowed him down. Melissa and I strolled after them, busily gazing at the marvelous visions of Living Land. General Iguana kept his lizard army marching in fine precision.
On the other side of the gate, we only had to travel a short distance before arriving at a large heap of rubble. There was a little sign post lying on the ground. Melissa went over to it and seeing that it read “Decontamination Station” she picked it up to show us all.
“Oh, thank you,” smiled the sign, who spoke in a sweet-sounding little girl’s voice, “Thank you ever so kindly.”
“Oh,” gasped a startled Melissa, dropping the sign post to the ground again.
“It’s okay,” reassured Cleo, “just remember, this is Living Land; virtually everything is alive.”
“When you said everything, I didn’t realize you meant ‘everything’,” chuckled Melissa, picking up the sign post once again.
“I am sorry I frightened you,” smiled the sign, “Would you mind sticking me back in the ground?”
“Not at all,” stated General Iguana, motioning to some of his troops to break formation and take over the task from Melissa.
“Thank you again,” the sign post said sweetly.
“Did Lived Neerg do this?” asked Cleo referring to the pile of rubble formerly known as the small and infrequently used Decontamination Station.
“I am afraid he and his army of robots are not being very respectful of the inhabitants of Living Land,” she replied.
“Don’t worry,” eagerly added Cindy, who never talked to a sign post before, “we’re here to help....”
Before the sign post could reply, Cleo quickly took off again with the rest of us in rapid pursuit. Just as we came around a bend in the road, we heard a loud scream.
“Rob, analyze,” I said.
“Sensors indicate that the audible sound appears to be coming from a geologic formation.”
“A rock?” asked Cindy, “But rocks don’t have mouths.”
“Don’t let them hear you say that,” laughed General Iguana.
We rushed forward through a wooded area. It reminded me very much of a great park in the middle of a large city. There were water fountains and park benches, playgrounds and lots of little, winding paths heading off in various directions from the main path. The only thing missing were the people—or I guess in Living Land, I should say inhabitants.
As we rushed past one particularly large, water fountain, it hollered after us, “Hooray, it’s the cavalry! After you get them, a refreshing swim waits for all!”
“Thank you, Ms. Fountain,” replied Cindy, obviously enjoying talking to normally inanimate objects.
We pressed onward, being cheered by beds of flowers, swing sets and monkey bars (that actually were made out of real monkeys!). As we passed a glorious looking carousel, all of the animals shouted out their best wishes to us, as they revolved around. Arriving at the edge of a clearing—the lizards cocking their rifles ready for anything—we saw what we had come for.
On the far side of the clearing was a line of eight robots, almost identical in appearance to Rob, except for their size. These robots were nearly nine feet tall. Peering out from behind them, we saw the sinister Green Devil, Lived Neerg. Being about half the size of the robots, he looked like a timid little kid peeking out from behind his parents.
Lived Neerg—which as you know is the Green Devil spelled backwards—was a very odd creature. He was lime green and somewhat overweight; shaped like a pear, he only stood about four and half feet tall. He had a wart on the side of his hooked nose and a long, pointed tail—much like that of a devil. He wore no clothes other than a hat—the kind of tattered, black, pointed hat a witch would wear. Instead or hands or feet, he had claws.
Off to either side of the clearing, were groups of all sorts of creatures in military formation. There were armies of trees, armies of rocks, small groups of assorted animals, birds and plants. As Cleo had already informed us, the trees and rocks assumed the role of the military units of Living Land whenever the rare occasion arose. The situation in front of us appeared to be at a standoff; everyone just waiting to see who was going to make the next move in this war.
I suggested we all stay back out of sight. If Lived Neerg didn’t know we were here yet, I might just give us the advantage of surprise over him. Besides, as long as there was a standoff, nobody was getting hurt. The last thing I wanted to do was give Lived Neerg a reason to resume the fighting.
Out of nowhere, we were approached by a quickly scurrying, little creature. He resembled a chipmunk but had a big nose—much like the beak of a toucan. He had a little pair of spectacles perched upon it and was wearing a little, white, lab coat. He began hyperactively looking us over; sizing us all up, one at time.
“Oh, my! Oh, dear!” he chattered briskly, “Oh, it can’t be! Creatures! Extinct creatures! And meat-people! Meat-people! Oh, dear! Oh, my!” He quickly scurried away again and headed over to the armies of trees and rocks.
“What was that?” asked Lisa.
“Looked like one of the laboratory technicians from LLARAIMCO,” stated Cleo, “they always had the finest techs, you know.”
After chattering something to one particularly large boulder, the little lab tech turned and scurried back toward us. He was immediately followed by the boulder—who rolled along after him—and a very, military looking tree, waddling his way toward us on some sturdy roots.
The boulder was about three feet in diameter and had a broad slit on the side facing us, which acted as his mouth—at least it had a cigar hanging out of it, so we assumed it was the mouth. He had sad but friendly holes for eyes and little patches of brown moss that acted as mustache and eyebrows.
The most curious thing about him—if being alive wasn’t curious enough—was that when he rolled, his face always remained on front. It didn’t move! He didn’t roll over it, it just stayed right on front where it belonged.
The tree was a majestic looking spruce, though he was only about ten feet high. His face was made up of knots and gnarls in his bark. He also had mossy eyebrows and—since he had no mustache—I guess you could say he was clean shaven.
“Here they are! Here they are!” pointed the chipmunk tech, “loitering in the woods! Meat-people! Meat-people! It’s not good! No, no, not good at all!”
“Iggy, my friend,” proudly stated the boulder upon seeing his lizard counterpart.
The boulder cast a suspicious glance at Rob and then began puffing harder on his cigar. General Iguana took note of that.
“Rocky! Good to see you, you old chunk o’ granite,” replied General Iguana, slapping the boulder on the back. “Oh, don’t worry about him,” he added, pointing toward Rob, “he’s not one of those. Where’s Big Red?”
“I’m afraid Neerg got him. Chopped him down. This is his replacement, General Bruce ‘Sprucie’ Spruce.”
“Eh-em!” interrupted the little lab tech, clearing his little throat.
“Oh.., and this little one is Jeremy,” continued General Boulder, half-heartedly, “He seems to be the only lab tech we could find from LLARAIMCO.”
“Pleased to meet you, General Spruce.” The iguana and the tree shook claw and branch.
“I’m sorry to hear about General Redwood,” General Iguana added gravely.
“Eh-em!” interrupted the little lab tech, again.
“Pleased to meet you, too,” nodded the lizard.
“What about them! Meat-people! And these two! Extinct! Extinct!” shouted the hyperactive Jeremy, running little loops back and forth in front of us.
“General Boulder,” started Cleo, “this is Larry and his friends; Melissa, Lisa and Cindy. They’ve come to help us.”
“But they’re meat-people,” started the skeptical sphere, “how did they get here?”
“That’s a long story, and completely unnecessary at this time,” assured Cleo, “trust me—koleapi don’t lie.”
“I was right,” I said patting myself on the back.
“About what?” asked Melissa.
“Koleapus’s or koleapi,” I smiled, “it’s koleapi.”
“Very good, Webster,” she smiled.
“Webster?” asked a confused Woba.
“You know,” started Cindy, “the dictionary dude.”
“Dude?” asked a now, even more confused Woba.
“Never mind,” I said, in a sort sneer, “let’s get back to the issue at hand. General Boulder, could you please fill us in on the present situation?”
“Well, right now,” started the geologic General, somberly, “it looks as if that green devil just might be winning.”
“He’s destroyed LLARAIMCO,” chattered Jeremy, in a very disgusted tone.
“Yes, he has,” sighed General Boulder, “but if you don’t mind, this is my briefing.” The General began puffing on his cigar again.
“No, no, go ahead.” Jeremy was definitely a nervous little animal.
“To continue,” began General Boulder, taking a good hard suck on his cigar, before blowing out a large smoke ring, “he’s killed off all of the plants and the grasses that have approached him...”
“Their attack plan was to clog the tread on those robots,” informed General Spruce, proudly.
“He has also covered up all of the openings to the Ant Kingdom, so that they can’t even get out to muck up the insides of those metal monsters. It will take them days to dig themselves out,” concluded General Boulder.
“Poor King Teddy,” said Cindy.
“I can help there,” I replied.
“You can help dig the ants out?” asked General Iguana.
“Better than that, I can shrink myself and fly into the robots and do the job myself.”
“Shrink yourself?” asked a very excited General Boulder, “how is that possible.”
“He has the Grotog and ‘The Spell Book of Androganine’,” informed Cleo.
“Then he is indeed a powerful ally to have,” smiled the broad slit in the General’s face.
“Negative,” stated Rob.
“I’m not a good ally?” I questioned.
“Negative,” started Rob, “you are a good ally.”
“Then why did you say ‘negative’?”
“The first ‘negative’ was a reply to your statement, ‘...I can shrink myself and fly into the robots...’“ Rob quoted.
“And why can’t he?” asked Lisa.
“Sensors detect the presence of armed security circuits within the robots which are currently active.”
“Very active, indeed. Excellent sensory perception for a JPM-4 model,” noted Jeremy, who had been actively looking Rob up and down. “I do see some unauthorized modifications though. Tch, tch, tch, tch, tch...”
“Besides,” pointed out General Boulder, “even if you were to disable a robot or two, he’s got eight of them metal monsters and the others are sure to try to stop you.”
“Rob, analysis,” I instructed.
“Robots are based on the JPM-6 model, which my scanners indicate is the most recent modification to what I am. Sensory and programming circuits are fully protected,” started Rob, “other data, incomplete.”
“Tch, tch, tch, tch, tch,” sounded Jeremy, shaking his head, “such a shame. A perfectly good JPM-4 wasted on meat-people.”
“Hey, he’s not wasted,” snipped Cindy.
“My,” observed Jeremy, “what a feisty meat-person.” Jeremy then took the liberty to poke Cindy on the calf, but she just slapped his hand.
“Jeremy,” began Melissa, trying to ease him back into everyone’s good graces, “how much do you know about the JPM-6”
“Ha, what do I know?. What do I know? Ha, they want to know what I know.”
“Well?” prodded General Boulder, puffing some smoke right in Jeremy’s face.
Jeremy coughed for a few seconds and then boasted, “I’m just the chief designer of all modifications that make the JPM-6 a far more superior model than the outdated JPM-4.”
I heard an odd gurgling sound coming from Rob. After realizing what it was and before I could stop him, a little spurt of used oil spit out from one of his vents and landed right on Jeremy’s head.
“Hey!” shouted the bespectacled, lab tech, wiping the dark fluid from his fur and his eyeglasses.
“My apologies,” I began, fighting back a little chuckle of amusement, “but as you know, the venting of used lubrication is an involuntary function in the JPM-4.” (And who said robots don’t have any feelings.)
“Should I kick him, now?” asked Woba, squinting his little round eyes at the tech.
“All right,” snapped Melissa, “let’s stop this right now. Rob, say you’re sorry.”
“My apologies for venting in your direction,” started Rob.
There was a pause and then he continued, “I should have performed a sensor scanned prior to discharge.”
“Well,” began Jeremy, “a little hot, lubricating oil is always a treat for my fur. Apology accepted.”
“Now can I kick him?” asked Woba.
“Look Woba,” motioned Cleo with is front paw, “there’s a nice patch of eating grass!”
“Oh, goody! Wombas love grass,” cried the little creature, galloping off to do some long desired munching.
“Jeremy,” asked Melissa, now that everyone seemed to be back on friendly terms, “how long did it take for Lived Neerg to manufacture his army of robots.”
“Oh, that wasn’t necessary at all,” began Jeremy, regaining his confidence, “those robots had already been manufactured.”
“He’s right,” began General Spruce, “during the short period of time that Lived Neerg has been here, the only thing he had to do was to apply the lacertinium from Lizard Land.”
“Poor Tyrannosaurus Bob,” lamented General Iguana, bowing his head. The lizard army followed, removing their little caps.
“Were all of their circuits fully functional then?” asked Melissa, after a brief moment of silence for the lizards’ sake. “Keep in mind that he first had to take over the factory, melt down the lacertinium, apply it, and then reprogram the robots.”
“Fully functional and ready for delivery. You’re looking at the entire output of LLARAIMCO for this dorpid. Isn’t much call in Jingleland these days for robots,” lamented Jeremy. “Anyway, those robots where grade-A, finished, ready to go...”
“Rob,” I interrupted, “set your sensors for a lacertinium scan. Let me know if that shielding is solid.” This only took Rob a few seconds.
“Negative. Lacertinium outer shielding is full of inconsistencies.”
“Probably due to the fact that only had about a day or so to slap that stuff on,” noted Lisa.
“What’s a day?” asked the two Generals and Jeremy, almost simultaneously.
“Twenty-four hours,” replied Cindy.
“What’s an hour?” asked the three, again.
“Never mind,” laughed Cleo.
“Rob,” inquired Melissa, “what would it take to penetrate those monsters?”
“My sensors indicate that any number of liquids could short circuit their systems.”
“Impossible,” stated an insulted Jeremy, “the JPM-6 is completely waterproof.”
“Negative,” began Rob, “the integrity of their outer shell has been compromised by Lived Neerg’s application of the lacertinium.”
“Which means?” asked General Boulder.
“Which means,” I began, “that the Green Devil was sloppy in his work. Which means that his impregnable army will rust like a Tin Woodsman.”
“What’s a tin woodsman?” asked Woba, returning to our little group after his snack.
“Never mind,” comforted Melissa, “it’s a storybook character.”
“I like story books,” he replied, smiling.
“So, one good rain shower would do it, huh?” I pondered.
“Where’s a good Kowdoon when you need one,” said Cindy.
“Cleo, didn’t you mention that there were living clouds in this place?” asked Melissa.
“Yes, they live up in the Mauve Mountains. They usually swing by every now and then—at the request of the flora, of course,” stated General Boulder, “we don’t bother much with them and they don’t bother much with us.”
“Like the lizards,” said Cindy.
“Hey!” replied General Lizard, “that’s just a misconception. We like our own country very much. We just don’t venture out of it unless we have to.”
“Our apologies, General. We didn’t mean to insult you or your people,” Melissa smiled.
“Lizards, ma’am,” reminded the aide.
“Cleo, which way is it to the Mauve Mountains?” I asked.
“They’re just over there, beyond the woods, on the other side of Lived Neerg and his robots.”
“But you needn’t bother with those clouds,” stated General Boulder, “King Nimbus is not a friendly sort. As for the rest of them, they are definitely one grumbly lot who will not help anyone. They wouldn’t water the flora if it wasn’t a masinian-old agreement.”
“What’s a masinian?” asked Cindy.
“Lots and lots and lots and then, even more deefons,” smiled Cleo.
“It’s their un-friendliness I’m counting on,” I started, “please don’t make a move until I get back. Hopefully I can pull this off before the Green Devil makes his. Rob, follow me.”
I quickly placed Multi-Purpose Protection Fields around the two of us and we headed back into Fountain Park.
“All right,” said Woba in a strained tone, “but my neck’s going to get awfully stiff if he’s not back soon.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Lisa.
“He said not to make a move,” replied the womba defensively.
Everyone just sort of chuckled at him.
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