The moon shone in the sky. Every so often a cloud obscured its light, but there was still a vast array of stars to keep Pine Hollow illuminated.
​
Inside The Midnight Flower (which also happened to be Claudette’s favorite restaurant), she recounted the events of the day to Errol.
​
“Heh! You should’ve seen Othmer, Errol. ” Claudette took a bite of her sandwich and wiped her lips, speaking around a mouthful of cheese and tomato. “All wrapped up like a lil’ present. He looked like such a stupid sap."
Errol found it hard to focus on her words. He squirmed in his seat. He was certain he had sat in some old gooey gum. Standing up, relief washed through him when he discovered that there was no gum on his chair. He nevertheless cleaned it off briskly with a napkin. He sat down again and pressed his fingertips together, murmuring, “Things seem to be getting worse for them, don’t you think?”
Claudette eyed him as she sipped her drink. “Anyone could see that.”
​
Errol slapped her on the back. She spat out her drink. Errol announced, “That settles it. I’m going to talk to those two tomorrow. This nonsense ends now!”
​
They left the restaurant. Claudette slid into her coat and put on her hat, uttering, “Uh-huh, splendid. See you later then.”
“I’ll see you later, too. And hopefully I’ll have good news!”
​
***
​
The next day was foggy and overcast, but humid. Errol marched along the trodden path to Marigold and Othmer’s house. He had thought hard about what he’d say to Othmer, and after much internal debate and struggle, decided that he had no idea what he was actually going to tell him. What more could he say that hadn’t already been said? Maybe he should go ahead and destroy Othmer’s experiments and items in the basement? Errol sighed upon seeing Cloyce slouched on the front porch. Destroying Othmer’s belongings didn’t sit right with him, but keeping his contact with Cloyce brief and impersonal did. He groaned, wondering if the idiot knew whether the Wilts were home or not. Errol sighed again. He knew Othmer would be home—he rarely left the house anymore, according to Marigold.
​
“Hey!” Errol called as he jogged to the front porch. He stopped on the first step and looked around the porch. It seemed to have rotted more than the last time he visited. “Hello, Cloyce,” Errol grunted. “Are Othmer and Marigold home?”
​
Cloyce dragged his gaze to him and groaned, “They refused to let me sleep inside. I stayed on the porch all night.”
​
“I didn’t ask you that,” Errol growled as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and finger.
​
Cloyce glanced away. “Oh. Marigold’s at the market. Othmer’s inside.”
​
“Thanks.”
​
“Any time.”
​
Errol entered the house. It was dimly lit. Errol fumbled for the lamp, but only succeeded in knocking it over. He grabbed it before it hit the floor.
​
“Can you tell me why you’re here, Errol?” Cloyce’s head popped up from around the doorframe. Startled, Errol whipped around to face him and accidently dropped the lamp to the ground. It smashed into several pieces.
​
“That’s none of your beeswax, Cloyce. And look what you made me do!” Errol nudged the shattered lamp pieces with his foot.
​
Cloyce shook his fists and snapped, “Everyone’s always doing this to me! Pushing me away, treating me like dirt. I’ve had it!”
​
Errol tried to hush him. “Stop it, you idiot!”
​
“I won’t stop!” Cloyce cried and stamped his feet. “Othmer and I are family. That should mean something!” He stomped over to the stairs. “Do you hear me, cousin? I MATTER!”
​
The floorboards creaked above them. Errol pricked his antennae. A hulking, melting shape burst from the stairs and lunged at Cloyce. It swiped a hand at him. Cloyce leaped to his feet and let out a shrill scream, “Yipe! Run, Errol!” And with that, Cloyce sped out of the house and into the woods.
​
The creature paused, shocked. “Errol?” it said.
​
Errol collapsed on his butt, his jaw open, staring at the thing in front of him. Did it just say his name? It swiveled around to face him. It stared at Errol and asked, “Errol? What are you doing here?”
​
Errol squinted at the creature. It towered over him, its sharp teeth poking out from its mouth. Bits of gauze were draped over its face and dangled from its nose. Large gobs of (flesh? Errol wasn’t quite sure what it was) something dripped down the thing’s face. A drop plopped right at Errol’s feet, making a heavy squelching sound. Some of it splattered on his shoe. Snarling at the mess on his foot, Errol stood, brushed himself off, and wiped the sticky goo off his shoe and onto the baseboard.
​
“Huh! I’m not afraid of you, you melty mess!” Errol adjusted his hat and coat and cleared his throat with a raucous cough. “Where’s Othmer? Who are you?”
​
The thing leaned closer to Errol and tilted its head. Light gleamed off its glasses. Errol couldn’t see its eyes behind the lenses.
​
“You really don’t know who I am?” it murmured.
​
Errol snorted, “How should I know?” He grabbed the phone. “If you don’t tell me, I’m calling the police,” he stated, glaring back at the monster. There was something familiar about the thing, but he wasn’t quite sure what.
​
The thing raised its fist above the phone, then brought it down with such ferocity—BAM!—that the force of its blow reduced the phone to splinters. The letters B, A, and M materialized from the noise. They clattered to the floor. Errol’s eyes widened. He gingerly picked one up. It felt warm.
​
“Well, that’s something I don’t see every day,” Errol muttered, placing the letter on the floor. “How did you do that?”
​
The thing crossed its arms. A moment passed before it answered, “You’d never believe me.”
​
“Look, chum. I’m done with this game.” Errol jabbed a finger at the thing and hissed, “Tell me who—what you are.”
​
“I’ll show you.” The thing put its hands to its face. Errol thought maybe it was hiding its shame at first, but then realized its hands started to push and pull at its face. The body started to shrink, and the teeth receded into the mouth. The hands kept kneading at the lopsided face, molding it into a more familiar shape.
​
“Othmer!” Errol bent down to examine his coworker more closely, noticing that he was still melting. “What—how—what is going on here?”
​
Othmer trembled a bit as he heaved himself off the floor. He struggled to keep his balance, and slipped in a puddle of his own flesh.
​
Othmer got to his feet again. He narrowed his eyes at Errol. “My experiment worked,” Othmer murmured.
​
“What experiment? How? And why are you melting?”
​
Othmer waved his hands to Errol and begged, “Please don’t tell Marigold!”
​
Errol squinted down at him and let out an irritated snort. “What, that her husband is melting like a candle? I don’t think she’ll notice.”
​
Othmer paced around the room. “I gave myself toon physics, but at the cost of this melting nonsense. I can’t stop it. I never thought there’d be a side effect like this,” he admitted, wringing his hands. “My condition is getting worse. But I think I can handle it. The melting is a silly side effect, that’s all!”
​
Errol snarled, “A silly side effect? This looks like a terrible problem to me! How in all of Insecta did you think your experiment would work? Your experiments never do! Why would this one have been any different?”
​
“I’m not asking for a lecture,” Othmer snapped. “I need you to keep your mouth shut!”
​
Errol shook his head. “You can’t hide your mistake from Marigold,” he pointed out, nudging one of the letters with his foot. “She’s not stupid.” Straightening himself, Errol cleared his throat. “I’ve come to discuss more important matters.”
​
“Like what, my job? I’m not returning,” Othmer answered, picking up the letters.
​
“Don’t you care about your wife?”
​
“Why would you say that?” Othmer snapped. He spun around and headed for the kitchen, Errol following. Othmer didn’t bother to turn on the lights, and Errol slammed into the counter. Muttering expletives, he rubbed his arm. Sniffing, Errol watched as Othmer tossed the letters into the trash can.
​
“I’ve tried to be understanding to both of you,” Errol growled. “Marigold’s working too many hours. Her work is becoming lackluster.”
​
Othmer threw some scraps of paper over the letters, arranging the scraps in order to hide them. The A was proving to be difficult to conceal. Othmer considered putting a cup over the tip of the A to hide it better.
​
“She’s tired,” Errol continued. “She needs you. Can’t you see how exhausted she is?”
​
An old, stained doily caught Othmer’s attention. He draped it over the A. He had never cared for the ugly doily. Not looking up from the trash, he grunted, “If you really care, why not pay her more for less hours?”
​
“I talked with her about that many times. She didn’t feel it was right,” Errol murmured.
​
“What I’m doing now will help Marigold,” Othmer growled as he left the room.
​
Errol, with a quizzical look on his face, called after him, “You’re not making sense.”
​
Othmer reappeared with the damaged phone. He arranged the broken pieces under more trash, huffing, “I don’t know how you can be so dense.” He examined the contents of the trash can, not yet satisfied with how things were hidden.
​
Errol glared at him. “Enlighten me, Othmer. How am I dense?”
​
“Don’t you see?” Othmer said, his eyes glowing. “With this knowledge, I can keep working on this experiment!”
​
“You should quit while you’re ahead,” Errol scoffed.
​
Othmer started pushing the trash down with a broom handle.
​
Shaking his head, Errol retorted, “I still don’t think any of that bushwa of yours will help.”
​
Othmer turned to leave the kitchen once more. “I’ll work out the issues, and share my success with all of Insecta,” he explained. “Not only will every toon regain amazing abilities, but I’ll become famous.”
​
Othmer looked around the disheveled living room with disdain. Errol followed him, staring blankly ahead. Othmer crossed his arms and gave a little snort. “And maybe I can earn enough money so Marigold and I can start fresh.” Turning to face Errol, Othmer continued, “We can move anywhere! Oh, Marigold can have whatever she wants.” Othmer hugged himself and smiled. “And I’ll have time to create more experiments and solve more problems for Insecta!”
​
He should focus on his own problems, Errol thought. He hadn’t known that this was Othmer’s end goal. When had Othmer made this plan? Errol stared at nothing. What had been so terrible about working at Short Pencils for Othmer? Had he always felt this way? Errol absentmindedly pulled at his mustache. What if it hadn’t been the work, but the coworkers that had bothered Othmer? Errol didn’t want to dwell on the thought any longer. He shook his wings a bit, trying to calm himself down. Facing Othmer, he tilted his head and quietly asked, “You’d leave Short Pencils?”
​
“I’ve already left,” Othmer grunted.
​
Errol shook his head. “You’d move away?”
​
None of this made any sense to Errol. Whether or not he understood Othmer’s desire to leave Pine Hollow, Errol understood that if the Wilts would leave, he’d lose two of his closest friends. The thought of Claudette following suite flashed in his mind. Errol shook his head, not wanting to think about her abandoning him as well.
​
There was no point staying here and listening to Othmer’s nonsense. Errol felt hot in the stifling air of the house. He spun around and stormed to the door. “You’re being selfish,” Errol hissed, grabbing the door knob. “I don’t think Marigold wants to leave Pine Hollow. I think she just wants her husband back!”
​
Errol didn’t notice Othmer’s shape changing. He was trying to get over his own feelings of anger. Anger at Othmer for thinking about abandoning him and Short Pencils, and anger at himself for letting all this happen.
​
Marching out the door Errol shouted, “Good bye, Othmer!”
​
Othmer slammed the door and missed Errol’s wing tips by an inch. The thud caused the walls to tremble, but he didn’t care. He whipped around and paced. The nerve of that long-legged twit. How dare he say those things? Othmer growled to himself. Just because Errol had been his boss didn’t give him the right to control his life. Othmer paced faster. He returned to the door and stopped dead in his tracks.
​
There were deep gouge marks on the door.
​
Othmer blinked. What had those come from? He extended a hand and traced the claw marks, then gasped. A long, sharp claw extended on each finger. Gasping, he curled his fingers, hiding the claws and digging them into his palms. He didn’t notice the tiny drops of ink falling from his hands.
​
“How did I do that?” Othmer gazed out the window. He hadn’t felt any change, hadn’t realized it had happened at all. He shook his head, which sent gobs of flesh everywhere. I can control it, he fretted. He was sure more changes to his ink concoction would fix everything.
​
***
​
Errol was fuming. He had no idea where he was even heading to; he just needed to get as far away from Othmer’s idiocy as possible.
​
He turned the corner and passed by The Midnight Flower, crashing into a moth standing outside.
​
“Hey!”
​
Errol scrambled back. Shaking out his suit and brushing dust off his sleeves, he mumbled, “Oh. Sorry, Claudette.”
​
“You clumsy sap, watch where you’re going!” Claudette laughed, shaking her head. Her smile vanished as she noticed that Errol still glowered. She smoothed out her wrinkled dress, wondering why he was in a sour mood. Remembering that he had visited Marigold and Othmer today, she asked, “So, how’d it go?”
​
“Terrible,” Errol snorted. “You should see what Othmer’s done to himself. It’s very hard to believe.”
​
“I saw,” Claudette snickered.
​
“No, I don’t think you have.”
​
“Are you talking about his gauze-encrusted head?”
​
Errol looked at her and let out a sigh. “I wish I was. I don’t know how to tell you this, but he…he’s melting. Literally.”
​
Claudette stared at him, then stared some more. If this was Errol’s idea of a joke, she thought, it wasn’t very funny. But she knew Errol too well and knew that he was telling the truth.
​
“What?” she gasped and gripped his shoulders. “Melting? You’re serious?”
​
“Yes, I’m serious,” Errol sighed and nodded. “He claims his experiment worked.”
​
Shaking her head, Claudette responded, “Well, doesn’t sound like his little project worked to me. Sounds like it backfired tremendously.”
​
​Errol nodded agreement. “And how. He thinks Marigold won’t notice.”
​​
Claudette leaned forward, close to Errol’s face. “He’s not going to tell her?”
​
“No.”
​
“We can’t let him deceive her like this. We’ve got to tell her!” Claudette announced. And with that, she grabbed Errol’s wrist and sped off.
​