The Isles of Bumpengrynd Were so Small
wasn’t on any contemporary maps- a dismal little oil lamp
- her American counterpart, Dr Roverpants
- through brute force and righteous anger
- every modeling agency, every dance academy
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The Isles of Bumpengrynd were so small and remote that the capital city, Twerkistan, wasn’t on any contemporary maps you could find on the internet. So of course this desolate rest stop lit only by a dismal little oil lamp was utterly vacant. The Tessabot sighed and plopped down on the primitive toilet. “Why are we even chasing this photographer?” she asked.
“To stop him from selling the pictures he took of us.”
“Why does it even matter? You can deny everything. You have a twin and no one will be able to tell which T-SSA Unit I am.” She went on to tell me about her American counterpart, Dr Roverpants, a Tessabot I had never met. That made at least three of them, and this Tessabot had ridiculous nicknames for the other two. Dr Roverpants, through brute force and righteous anger, took over every modeling agency, every dance academy, and the majority of the escort services in Miami. The one she called Professor Twinkletush was the one I’d seen thrown off a rooftop in Valentine Village.
“How many of you are there?” I asked. “And what do the others call you?”
bonus points for using them in order