Zorgamazoo Read online

  and you’ll get it from me!”

  Katrina raised up her adorable head.

  She smiled like an angel, and here’s what she said:

  “They call me Katrina,

  and I hope you all fall down a bottomless well.”

  Then, like a cat, she sprung to her feet.

  She spun on her heels, to beat a retreat.

  As she scuttled away, she was granted a chance

  to give Sickly a kick in the seat of his pants.

  Selena she tripped with a flick of her foot

  which made her go sprawling in rubble and soot.

  But then, at the steps, before her escape,

  she was captured by someone as strong as an ape!

  It was BUGSY McCROOK! He was already there!

  He hoisted her up by a handful of hair!

  Katrina looked back at her turbulent wake:

  Selena lay sprawled like a slumbering snake.

  Her boots were askew and her hair was a mess.

  There were tatters and tears in her leathery dress.

  Sickly, meanwhile, was especially glum.

  He was sulking and sourly rubbing his bum.

  “Okay,” BUGSY puffed, “we’re skipping the bees.

  You can nix all the sticks and the grater of cheese.

  Instead, I’ve decided to skip to the punch.

  Let’s finish her off, get down to the crunch.

  “Ms. Katrina Katrell, say goodbye to your life,

  because now, as we say, is the time of the knife!”

  Selena provided her terrible blade.

  It flashed like the games in a penny arcade.

  She gave it to BUGSY, who grinned like a shark,

  whose teeth were agleam in the shadowy dark.

  But before he could act on his odious goals,

  before he could riddle Katrina with holes,

  he was stopped by a voice that rose from the gloom,

  and suddenly rippled all over the room.

  The voice started whistling a musical tune,

  like a wolf, as it croons at the sight of a moon.

  While yowling a jingle and clapping a beat,

  the whistler was happily tapping his feet.

  The tapping grew louder, just off to the right,

  and then Mortimer Yorgle…

  tripped into the light.

  “Excuse me,” he coughed. “I got carried away.

  It happens sometimes. Hey, what can I say?”

  BUGSY looked frightened. Or startled, at least,

  as he gaped at this creature, this blundering beast.

  “Hello,” Morty waved. “I don’t mean to intrude.

  I hope you’ll excuse me for being so rude.

  But I got myself lost,” he said with remorse.

  “I don’t know where I am. I’m a little off course.”

  BUGSY said nothing, he just ogled and stared.

  The pigheaded bully was actually scared!

  His lips began trembling, he started to pout.

  He tried saying something, but nothing came out,

  nothing except for a meaningless peep,

  the teeniest, tiniest, whiniest…

  The knife in his hand, it fell to the floor,

  and BUGSY MCCROOK ran off for the door.

  His minions, Selena and SICKLY VAN PUKE

  (whose nose was now gushing with gobbledygook),

  they were equally scared. They ran away, too.

  Up the stairwell they scampered—they practically flew!

  So Katrina was left, alone with this thing,

  not knowing what dangers their meeting would bring.

  But running away—well, it didn’t seem right,

  after Morty had proved himself rather polite.

  So she put out her hand. It hung there a while.

  On her face was a grateful but timorous smile.

  “My name’s Katrina, and I’d just like to say:

  Thank you—for going so out of your way.

  Those ruffians sure had me under the knife,

  so I owe it to you…for saving my life.”

  Morty reached out, with the palm of his paw.

  They shook, and Katrina was stricken with awe.

  “Who me?” Morty asked. “You got me all wrong.

  I was just passing through, just humming a song.”

  His hand and his fingers were far from the norm.

  They were furry

  and roughened

  and toughened

  and warm.

  “Pleased to meet you,” he said. “I’m Morty, or ‘Mort.’

  To be honest, I’m not the adventuring sort.

  But they sent me, it seems, on a sort of a quest,

  and I’ve got myself lost…and I’m sort of depressed.

  And there’s no one to help me!” he said with a sigh,

  as he awkwardly straightened the knot of his tie.

  The tie! thought Katrina. It was perfectly plain!

  It was him—the same face she had seen on the train!

  “You’re the thing that I saw!” She let out a squeal.

  “I can hardly believe that you’re actually real!”

  Morty looked at Katrina. He furrowed his brow.

  “Oh yeah, on the train. I remember you now.”

  That’s how it began, as simple as that!

  Soon they were chatting and chewing the fat.

  And Katrina could see, in Mortimer’s eye,

  that here was a decent and likable guy.

  They spoke of their lives, above and below,

  recounting their personal stories of woe.

  Katrina endeavoured to try and explain

  the insidious perils besetting her brain.

  How Mrs. Krabone had commissioned a quack,

  to pry at her skull with a crick and a crack!

  Morty meanwhile—he spoke of his quest,

  his lottery ticket, and all of the rest.

  He mentioned his Pop, who was sick as a dog,

  who sagged in his bed like a moldering log.

  But mostly he griped about being picked,

  how to him it appeared as if he’d been tricked.

  “What a joke!” he lamented. “I haven’t a clue

  how to find any zorgles in Zorgamazoo!”

  As she listened, Katrina was greatly engrossed.

  This tale had the stuff she admired the most:

  a potential adventure, with thrill after thrill!

  She soaked it all up. She was utterly still.

  But her belly had butterflies flitting inside.

  Her breathing had quickened. Her eyes had gone wide.

  She felt like her body was lit from within.

  On her face, was the subtlest hint of a grin.

  And so, it was then that Katrina Katrell

  decided to have an adventure as well…

  “Listen,” she said. “I don’t mean to pry,

  but I’d sure like to give an adventure a try.

  I always wanted to travel, to ramble and roam,

  but old Krabby won’t let me. She keeps me at home.

  So this is my chance, I’m off on my own.

  I can travel the world! Explore the unknown!”

  Morty thought for a moment. He paced in a loop.

  He went moping around in a sort of a stoop.

  “Wait a second,” he said. “Are you actually sure?

  If you join me, who knows what we’ll have to endure. . .”

  “Of course!” said Katrina. “I could give you a hand.

  I could help you to make it to Zorgamaland.

  I’m good with a map and I’m quick on my feet.

  Who knows? Perhaps we were destined to meet!”

  Morty chuckled and smiled. “Okay, you can stop.

  You know, you remind me a bit of my Pop.

  He’s nothing like me. He’s all gutsy, like you.

  Oh, and one other thing: It’s ‘Zorgamazoo.’”


  “Fair enough,” said Katrina. “Now hand me the map.”

  Which he did, and she opened it up in her lap.

  Every inch of the paper was covered with roads,

  with passages, tunnels and curious codes.

  It seemed to be utterly puzzling at first.

  In no time Katrina was deeply immersed.

  Then, all at once, it seemed to make sense,

  despite being so inextricably dense.

  “I’ve got it!” she said. “It’s all coming clear.

  There should be a doorway. . .

  right

  over

  here.”

  She pointed across to a cleft in the wall,

  a gap that was hardly a doorway at all.

  It led to a tunnel, forbidding and dark:

  the path onto which they were set to embark.

  As they vanished inside and into the black

  Katrina knew then:

  There was

  no turning back…

  Chapter 7

  the tunnel of hush

  It seemed like they traveled for several days, through a network of tunnels, an intricate maze.

  Going farther, the passage began to ascend.

  It appeared to go upwards, without any end.

  The climb was so steep that their muscles grew stiff.

  It seemed they were practically scaling a cliff.

  Morty, of course, was the first to protest.

  “This is awful!” he cried. “What a terrible quest!

  Say, look at the map. Are we close to the top?

  I’ll tell you, Katrina, I’m ready to flop!”

  Katrina, initially, didn’t respond.

  She stopped, looking up at the tunnels beyond.

  She consulted the map that was guiding the trip,

  and lifted a fingertip up to her lip.

  “Quiet,” she whispered, “don’t make a sound,

  and whatever you do, don’t stumble around.

  We’ve almost arrived, but this next little bit—

  it’s kind of a doozy, I have to admit.

  It’s marked on the map like a forest of horns,

  like a cluster of bristles and thistles and thorns.

  But they’ll be up above us, on the roof of the cave.

  If we want to get through, then we’ll have to be brave.

  They’re stalactites, you see, that’s what they’re called.

  But these, it would seem, have been badly installed.

  It says here they’re hung with such delicate poise

  that they’ll fall in response to the tiniest noise!

  So be very quiet. Don’t hurry or rush.

  We’re about to go into…

  the Tunnel of Hush.”

  The inside of the passage was muffled and dull.

  It was filled with an ancient, luxurious lull,

  in which you heard nothing—not even your breath;

  for the Tunnel of Hush was as silent as death.

  Stepping into the tunnel, they tiptoed ahead.

  Morty looked upward with shudders of dread.

  Stalactites were hung from the ceiling above,

  like the fingers and thumbs of some terrible glove.

  Morty was scared. He was looking around,

  but up at the ceiling, and not at the ground;

  and there, in the dust, just ahead of his boots,

  lay a raggedy bramble of creepers and roots.

  So Morty, of course, was hardly prepared

  when his foot was entangled, his boot was ensnared.

  To his credit, mind you, he said nothing at all.

  He just fluttered his arms as he started to fall.

  He went tumbling, in fact, right smack on his rump,

  and the action produced a most audible…

  At first, there was nothing, no tumble of rocks,

  no plummeting mountain of boulders and blocks.

  But then came a noise. Just the tiniest sound:

  the

  plink

  of pebble that fell to the ground.

  cried Katrina. “Get up, and let’s go!

  It’s the whole of the roof! It’s ready to blow!”

  Morty looked up and thought, What have I done?!

  Katrina was right. The barrage had begun!

  Stalactites were falling, like bombs in a war,

  skewers of granite and marble and more;

  as Katrina and Morty both hurried ahead,

  the boulders cascaded wherever they tread.

  Like swords, or like sinister sabers of stone,

  like jagged and tapering splinters of bone,

  they fell to the floor with smashes and bangs,

  like a venomous shower of vampire fangs!

  “Quick,” cried Katrina, “just a little bit more!

  It’s there, up ahead! The exit! The door!”

  Each of them saw it, a pocket of light,

  a patch of the sky that was blindingly bright;

  which now, in their moment of peril and strife,

  quite suitably glowed like the promise of life.

  Meanwhile, the passage was falling to bits!

  A shattering, clattering, battering blitz!

  It was then that they made their respective escapes,

  but not without bruises and scratches and scrapes.

  They dove from the tunnel and onto a hill,

  going head over heels, in a dizzying spill.

  They rolled down the slope and muddied their pants,

  and stopped in a thicket of bushes and plants,

  where Morty said, “Well, I guess we’ve arrived,

  and Katrina, guess what? I think we survived!”

  Katrina, mind you, was a little bit peeved.

  She didn’t seem happy, or even relieved.

  “Morty, you oaf! You lumbering lout!

  We’re lucky,” she cried, “that we even got out!

  You’re klutzy! You’re clumsy! You’re not very deft!

  You might have two feet, but they’re both of them left!

  And speaking of which, it’s because of those feet,

  that we nearly were mashed into hamburger meat!”

  Morty lay still, saying nothing at all.

  He remained on his back, laid out in a sprawl.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, with gasping fatigue,

  “This adventuring stuff—it’s out of my league.”

  Katrina just scoffed. She was wondering why,

  the zorgles would choose such a blundering guy

  to go on a quest, with so much at stake.

  To Katrina, it seemed like a dreadful mistake.

  Thinking these thoughts, she started to stand.

  She took a look round, at the lay of the land.

  The view left her breathless, unable to speak.

  They were high on the ridge of a mountainous peak,

  surrounded by trees of the leafiest green,

  in a place where the air was incredibly clean!

  Morty stood up. He snuffled the air.

  He brushed himself off and he straightened his hair.

  And just as he did so, he spotted a sign,

  nailed to the trunk of a towering pine.

  The branches, however, disguised what it said.

  It was partially hidden. It couldn’t be read.

  Only four of the letters were able to show:

  But Morty could read it, without any doubt.

  In an instant, he easily figured it out.

  He turned in a circle. He admired the view.

  Chapter 8

  a ghost of a town

  When Katrina looked closer and squinted her eyes, she was suddenly struck by a hidden surprise…

  Concealed in the bushes and blossoming vines,

  in the elms and the oaks, in the willows and pines,

  behind all the branches, behind all the leaves,

  were doorways and windows and shingles and eaves!

  “H
elloooooo!” Morty hollered, “is anyone here?

  Or is it just us…plus the rabbits and deer?”

  But no one called back, because no one was there.

  The zorgles were gone and the question was: Where?

  That, thought Katrina, is what I’d like to know.

  These countryside zorgles—where would they go?

  A whole village of creatures can’t fall through the gaps.

  They can’t just suddenly vanish! Or could they, perhaps?

  “Alright,” she proposed, “let’s knock on some doors!

  Let’s look in some windows and open some drawers!

  It’s a mystery, Mort! Like Phillip Marlowe!