Help Out the Poor Thing

"We've got to help him!" Don's shoes splashed in the goop as he stepped forwards.

Stak clenched an iron grip around his shoulder, "Look who has balls all of a sudden."

"Let me go!" Don said, "He's dying, aren't there any slime doctors?"

Just as Don began to fight with the hairy clasping hands, the sound of a fish slapping against the topside of a dock began to make it's way towards them. The endless torrent of goo continued to splatter out onto the pavement as Duke, Stak and Don swivelled to see what approached them.

A shadow began to form on the horizon of the city, swarming over trees and bushes until the streets were paved with light absorbing darkness.

"What is that?" Don shrieked.

"Nighttime," Stak began to pull Don towards the mansion.

"Night time? This is what night time looks like in this world?" Don rushed forwards and wrapped an arm around the guard. Rather than his arms cutting like knives through butter, the slime clasped onto his skin and didn't let go. The black death goo dribbled down his side but he didn't care. Then as Don looked forward, he noticed that nighttime was not a shadow at all, but a cacophony of jet black lizards, swarming over the city, and hungry.

"Damn you, if you didn't have that death sludge all over you they would have just left us alone!" Stak grumbled.

Don looked around and noticed that the Duke was nowhere to be seen.

"We can't go to Madam Slime's house like this!" Stak cried in dismay.

"Where are we going then?"

The End

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