In my present state, there was nothing I could do. Closer and closer to that hideous mandible I was drawn. There was no escape from here.
I’m assuming you’ve read Parts One and Two. If you haven’t, do it. I’m getting tired of issuing these warnings.
As I’ve already said, there was no escape from here. The stench of its foul breath–rotten carrot and clown-fish with an obvious but failed attempt to hide them with mint mouthwash that only made the combination worse–washed over my face, nearly making me vomit
Suddenly, the unthinkable happened: a man, dressed all in black, wielding what appeared to be an extremely over-sized Nerf gun, and riding a blue hippopotamus, burst through the iron arena doors as if they were… well, not iron. The octopus, sensing this new adversary, whipped around to face the threat (if threat such a thing can be called, that is). Unfortunately for me, it did not let go of me.
The man in black was by now halfway across the arena, the hippo plowing across the swampy surface as if it were quite at home on it, which it probably was. The octopus swept forward, tentacles wriggling furiously as it passed me to a rather minor back limb, leaving its primary appendages ready to do battle. Closer and closer the opponents came, neither stopping or hesitating for even a heartbeat.
There is nothing quite like watching a blue hippopotamus jump. Nothing. I can’t really describe it–it’s one of those things you have to see for yourself.
Anyway, the hippo jumped, or at least attempted to. It went quite a bit higher and farther than anyone probably expected it to, also. However, it was not high nor far enough. The massive aquamarine bulk smashed into the octopus’s body, sending it rolling backwards across the field. The rider managed to dive forward before the collision, soaring over the octopus and rolling to a halt behind it. Raising his unusual weapon, he rushed forward.
“Uh… help?” I called, but he seemed not to notice me. He launched himself upward off of one flailing tentacle and began pouring bullets downward at the beast. The hippo appeared to be trying to butt heads with the octopus and failing, its iron-hard noggin simply sliding off the slippery cephalopod.
As the Nerf darts struck it, the octopus quailed in fear, recoiling and shuddering with each new blow. This was most uncomfortable for me, as the vibrations of its quivering seemed to be amplified in the tentacles.
The sable-clad warrior landed in front of the octopus, his gun aimed menacingly at its bulging head.
“Stand down,” the man ordered, his voice as harsh as an equatorial snowstorm (if you have never experienced this, know that it is a phenomenon that only takes place in Northwest Nod and is absolutely miserable).
The octopus slithered slowly backwards, toward the opening of its semi-aquatic pen.
“Drop him.”
The octopus gave a sort of indignant snort. It sounded horrible.
“Drop him,” the man repeated, raising his gun again.
Reluctantly, the octopus released its grip on me. I fell to the ground, scrambling up and away from the beast as quickly as I could.
“Thanks,” I gasped to the obscure fighter as I caught my breath.
“Thank me later. We still have an angry Roman crowd to deal with,” he replied sharply.
“Oh, I can take care of that.”
“Really now?”
I began to initiate the dimensional traveling procedures.
“Why couldn’t you have done that when you were fighting the octopus?” the man asked me in a rather irritated tone.
“Have you ever tried to create a dimensional tunnel while fighting a twelve foot cephalopod?” I snapped back, not noticing in the heat of the moment that he had at least some knowledge of dimensional travel.
As the gates opened and the guards came running out, we vanished.