Chapter Six – The Dawn of the Emo

Ted cried for several days. So much so, that she actually flooded her bedroom and nearly drowned herself. This is actually quite an interesting story in itself as, in the words of the flood control warden that came to rescue her, '..how did all that water fit inside her in the first place?' The same warden then went on to use a few choice descriptions on exactly what sort of person Ted was, but I'll leave them out so I don't upset the little kiddies...or get sued.

Back to the fundamental point: Ted was upset. Well...devastated, really. She was so upset that she was so busy moping about her heart being broken that she forgot to be beautiful, kind, clever and sweet. This was a bit of a blow for Bilp.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" He screamed, upon opening the door to her bedroom after her prolonged absence from mealtimes had made him contemplate the fact that she could be dead. Standing in the doorway, sporting unnaturally black hair and a Slipknot t-shirt, was an emo. "What vile creature from all forty seven corners of the world is this?" He exclaimed; he'd never seen a creature as terrifying before.

"I'm Ted." The emo said. "Deal with it." With that, Ted slammed the door in her father's face and went back to her iPod where she drowned out her father's shrieks to the slightly ultrasonic noise of Fall Out Boy's latest album.

"My God..." Damien muttered. "...she's flipped."

"A shame..." The mirror replied, also muttering so as not to provoke the emo into a towering rage. They'd already witnessed the effects of an angry emo (Damien didn't think his tail would ever feel the same again) and were eager not to witness them again. Emos were dangerous.

Ted continued to buck her head in time with the monotonous beat of screamoness.

"What are we going to do?" Damien whispered. "Liam'll never love her like this..."

Liam was having an interesting day. After being banished from Nibble, the clock had struck midnight and he'd been forced to walk all the way back to Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl. His six pack, the Aston Martin, the leather jacket and the highlights had all gone, leaving the old, now slightly tired Liam in its place.

"I hate my life…" muttered the old Liam.

King Bernard of Nibble was in the dining room. When his son trudged in, he looked up from the pigeon he was barbequing.

"What the hell happened to you?" He asked, turning the bird over on the spit.

"We're at war with Nibble." Liam replied. Bernard dropped the pigeon on the cold, cobbled floor and ran off to his private chambers to have a sulk.

Liam flopped down in the throne.

"What the hell am I going to do?" He muttered to no one in particular.

"I don't know." No one in particular replied. "Ask someone who cares."

Tit smiled a beaky smile. How is it possible for a smile to be beaky, you say? Easy. Ask Tit.

"We have done well, Tit." Bert said, rustling his twigs smugly. "Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl and Nibble are now at war…just as I planned…."

"Indeed O'Master…" Tit groveled. "No one could have created such a master plan as you, my master."

"True, true…" Bert waved a wing. "I am rather fabulous. Let's go out for a curry to celebrate."

Tit whooped in the manner of an enthusiastic person and, using Bert's special log power, they flew to the local Indian Take-Away.

"Shit." Bilp said, once in the privacy of his own office. "I may have just made a booby."

"A booby?" Asked the squire's spleen from the jar in qhich it had been placed with some sort of preserving liquid.

"Yeah...you know. A booby. A mistake."

"Never heard that one before..."

"Really? Well now you know..." Bilp flopped into his throne. "Seriously though, what am I going to do?"

"Well..." The squire's spleen said. "There's no way the Nibble army could defeat the forces of Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl alone….we're going to have to gather allies."

"Oh shit." Bilp replied. "I hate allies; I hate people."

"Do you want to win this war or not?"

"Yes…" Bilp replied meekly.

"Well you're going to have to make an effort!"

Bilp frowned.

"You've become a lot cheekier since you've become a spleen…" He said suddenly.

"It's what being carved up with a trifle dish does to you – you lose the respect for authority and start to appreciate life a bit more. Now move your arse and get some allies!" The spleen barked.

"Alright! Jesus…" Bilp went over to his writing desk and picked up a pen. "I'll write a list…" He said. "…of all the nations I need to be allied with."

"That's a good idea. Bilp!" The spleen said in a patronizing fashion. "Have a virtual gold star!" Bilp plucked the virtual gold star from the air and pinned it on his chest.

"Who shall I ask?" He asked.

"Well…" The spleen thought for a moment. "There's the Farting Dwarves of the Lower Orients…." Bilp scribbled down the name. "The Annoyingly Vague Elves of Shineyland….and The Mer People, although I'd start with the dwarves…."

"Alright…." Murmured Bilp, finishing scribbling the name. "You and me, spleen. We'll start tomorrow…."