The Chocolate River

As a strolling, bandana-wearing Froggans guided Bibby into the blowhole of a flying Wailer, it seemed strange that the whole thing felt very normal, as though this was just the way things were. But I guess I've just gotten used to things not going the way they used to, she thought.

She became aware that she didn't know the name of the blowhole as she was standing there with the Froggans. "I'm sorry," she responded, "I haven't heard your name." Then, in an attempt to avoid the complication of being given a formal name that he didn't really answer to, she asked simply, "What do people call you?"

"You are strange, girl. You want to know my name since you didn't hear it? Two distinct things, but do whatever makes you happy, dude. In case you were wondering, they call me Gush-radical," he replied.

"I enjoy it. Recalling his previous ride on The Geyser, which none of the other Froggans had been able to duplicate, Bibby remarked, "It suits you."

She was currently standing on the blowhole's fleshy valve thanks to Gush-radical. He was holding her shoulders and was halfway through some basic training on how to avoid dying, so she must have been daydreaming. "...don't think you'll go very high, looking at the size of you, so..."

She looked down at herself and saw that the Froggans surrounding her were no bigger than her palm, and she had returned to her normal size. Squatting before her, still giving suggestions, was Gush-radical. "...and you might not want to attempt the amusing antics I performed prior to our meeting. (I take it you saw it?) It's far too sophisticated for you, and you could end up dead." This last bit was delivered matter-of-factly, as though death were a normal part of life.

"Remember, we'll be watching you, and you'll receive your name that way, right? Since "Barbera" isn't cool, do something amazing instead." Gush-radical stomped next to the blowhole before Bibby could say another word, and then she was in the air. Another string spray, another poisonous odor, another unexpected chill. The swirling water battered her until all her senses were lost in a spinning, twisting jumble of space-color, blue-white. Before the spray ceased and she began to descend, plummet, back toward the Wailer, back toward the sweeping tail—a solid hit—she was flying again, only to land with a gentle thud on the creature's back. The world as she knew it disappeared, replaced by a chaotic sensory overload.

The Froggans were swarming and leaping all around her when she woke up. Once more, she was their size. The air was filled with a muted clamor of exuberant shouts. The scene was, to put it mildly, the most bizarre thing she had seen since the Onyx Orb had brought her here, and she sat up. The Froggans were all gathered around her, seemingly in awe of her performing a stunt that only Gush-radical had perfected.

"Hey, it was fantastic! "Are you trying to take my trick?" Gush-radical grinned before laughing and said, "Dude, you were amazing! "Delicious!"

There was another huge cheer of agreement from the Froggans, and then a general buzz.

"Alright, then, dudes, what should her totally awesome new name be?" The Gush-radical shouted. "Mall-smasher," "Fly-tosser," and "Epic-newbie" were among the suggestions yelled by the crowd. Gush-radical finally made up his mind and waved a flipper.

"Barbera will now be called," he said, pausing for impact, "because she's new to the ride, awesome, and weird, beautiful-strange-youthful." Bibby!" he halted again, and for brief, she's going to be called.

The audience cheered loudly at this point. Bibby was happy that they had chosen her name, despite the convoluted process. As they demonstrated their admiration for her talent, the Froggans kept hopping and stepping. They started chanting something now that she couldn't quite understand.

Gush-radical looked in her direction. "Dude, they want us to show them our belongings together! No one has ever done it. "Let's get it done!" With the mob close behind, he took her hand and pulled her into the blowhole.

Then she was flying into the air with Gush-radical standing over the blowhole. She only partially welcomed the return of the cold, the poison, and the strings. The writhing, twisting mayhem was amusing. "WHHOOOOOO!" said Gush-radical, and she couldn't help but take in his enthusiasm. The sensation, the cold, the texture, and the colors all combined to create the ultimate experience before fading. They were falling, falling toward the tail—a miss—falling into the ground without time to scream, hitting the grass with a bang, with no more room to fall, a hundred feet from the Wailer's back. Warmth replaced the lingering cold, the prickle of grass replaced the string-like sensation, and the blackness of the Onyx Orb's inside replaced the blue-white emptiness.

Once more, Gush-radical's voice roused Bibby.

What hue does an Azure-Berry have? I've heard that they're more purple, but I don't really believe that. Have you heard anything?

When Bibby opened her eyes, she noticed a wailer soaring overhead. Below her, she sensed grass, and then hard ground. The grass, however, had a peculiar quality. She looked and sat up. A bed. She was seated on what appeared to be a mattress made of grass blades. When she searched for Gush-radical, she discovered him flat on the ground beside her, laying on his back. They were the same size once more, but it seemed like he had gotten bigger to fit her.

"I think Azure-Berries are probably green, but people call them that because they don't know that purple berries turn pink when they're cooked," he explained while kneeling over her. "I mean, geese can't be entirely insane, right?"

"He's lost his mind," Bibby reflected. It must have been the fall. Then then, she heard how absurd that sounded. All of this was happening to her; if anyone was angry, it was her. She ignored the idea and concentrated on the name Gush-radical. Why shouldn't she offer him a shorter moniker if he had given hers?

She told herself, "And since no one else is around, I must be the one to give it to him."

She whispered, "Now let's see here," as she peered at the somewhat conscious Froggans. "If your name's Gush-radical, a shorter version could be..." She stopped to reflect. "Gal? You're not really suited for that. The suggestion caused him to twist strangely. She continued to think.

"All right, let me give you a list. "Want to hear it?" she inquired.

"Anything to keep the fire burning in its place and not on the carpet," he murmured.

According to Bibby, "I will take that as a yes," "So far I have: Goul?" He gave a headshake. "Tical?" No, once again. "Trad?" Further hesitancy, but no. "Outr?" Without hesitation, he shook his head. "Gootical?" He appeared to wince. "Gour? Goutrad? Dical? Gush? Crazy? Rad? "Out-rad?" Until she reached Out-rad, he shook his head to everyone. He appeared intrigued.

"Out-rad? "That works for you," Bibby remarked. "More than even Gush-radical, I'd say."

"No, I still prefer the champion's name. The flying monkey bouncing on my chest is becoming old to me.

Bibby looked away, then looked back. Indeed, a flying monkey was leaping on his chest. To his relief, she pushed it away. He sighed deeply, and as he breathed, the world appeared to expand toward his mouth, and as he exhaled, everything reverted to normal.

He leaped to his feet. "So what do we do now that the Wailer's gone?"

She said, "How about we walk to the mountains?" "I do so want to go there."

"We could do that, dude. Will the Wailers make it there, in your opinion? At some point during the year, I believe I recall them heading into the mountains. He never explains to us why we must always get off at that point. But you know, that's the way it is." Lost in a reminiscence, he gazed up at the sky. "That's the best part of the year." Satisfied, he collapsed into one of the mattresses.

"When should we be going, then?" Bibby inquired.

"If you'd like, right now. For me, everything works.

"Okay," Bibby responded, a little taken aback. "Then I think we ought to leave right now."

Gush-radical responded, "Oh, right, of course," and slowly got to his feet. Over the next hill, they began.

"Whoa! As they reached the summit, he cried out, "What is that thing?" A broad river of viscous, light-brown fluid lay in front of them. He strolled toward the bank. "Whoa..."