Prologue The couch laughed as the human fell through its hidden portal and went into the world of the Kasmojibnites. As Bob fell through the portal, he wondered What on Earth was his sofa doing? Why on Earth was it doing this? And where around Earth was he going?
Chapter 1 - A Reasonably Normal Day It had been a normal day for Bob and Ellen Marsh, proprietors of The Pampered Pup, the latest and greatest dog grooming establishment in Berryville, Virginia. Bob was the receptionist, check-in man, and general fix-it while Ellen groomed the dogs with her assistant Marge. The robot vacuum Roberta zipped around the shop, located piles of dog hair, and promptly exterminated them into the trash can. Roberta would cry, “EXTERMINATE!” as she dumped the hair in the trash. When an owner arrived with their dog, Bob would pick up the pooch, place it on the conveyor belt, and get information from the owner about what needed to be done to their little, big, or medium puppy. Perhaps I should tell you a bit about what The Pampered Pup looked like. It was a blend of futuristic and retro. Bob had a computer that had two 3 ½ inch floppy drives. He would put the information about the dog on the floppy disc and, when it was the dog’s turn, pop the disc into the computer. The conveyor belts would start up and the dog would be delivered to the appropriate station. There were three stations: A dry dog station, a wet dog station (with shower, odor filter, and anti-hair clog drain. Roberta would promptly be given the hair. A cry of “EXTERMINATE!” would soon follow.), and a dirty dog station. The conveyor belt had flip up gates in it, for easy access to the grooming station. But this is enough about the salon - for now. After a good day’s work, Ellen was off to the pet store, the grocery store, and the board game store. Bob was off to the electronics store and then home to solve a puzzling problem - the control box on Conveyor Three was malfunctioning, which had led to a very unfortunate incident. While loading some dogs from their kennels onto the conveyors, Bob had not noticed the fact that all of the dogs were being loaded into the wet dog station. This had led to four dogs being shoved into the one dog-sized station, the door with water-tight rubber seals being lowered, and the shower turned on full blast. Given the extraordinary amount of noise the dogs managed to produce, Bob turned around to look and found that things were not as they should be. Roberta was driving in circles around on the floor screaming, “EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!” at the top of her volume slider. Bob inserted the reset disc, the door opened, and the dogs were delivered to their kennels. Eventually, the whole mess was sorted out, and the dogs properly groomed. And so, Bob sat down on his couch at home, to muddle through this conundrum, and so these curious events unfolded. “Where on Earth did I put that circuit diagram?” Bob muttered to himself as he scrabbled around in the dreaded crack between the sofa cushions. He had dropped it as he worked. “Where is it?” Bob would never find out that day. For then it happened. As his fingers touched the button, the sofa cushion fell out from under him. As Bob fell, he looked down. Was that a Christmas pageant? he wondered. Something hit his head, and stars danced before his eyes. Then the blackness took him.
Chapter 2 - In The Land Of Talking Chairs It was an odd sort of feeling, consciously feeling that you are not conscious. That was Bob’s only thought as he drifted in a vast expanse of nothingness. It must have been a confusing experience watching Bob wake up, because the first thing he did was laugh. Why, well the very concept of being sucked into a sofa would be cause enough to laugh, and on top of that he very distinctly remembered a very absurd word, (was even a word?) and he couldn’t put his finger on it. Anyway, all that was beside the point, because as funny as being eaten by a couch is, where the couch takes you is (probably) not a laughing matter. Bob started to observe his surroundings, and see if he could find out where he was. The most notable thing in the room was an absolutely astronomical fir tree. Bob wasn’t usually much of a naturalist, but he could tell that something was off with this tree. Aside from the tree's very unusual size, its leaves were shaped unlike any tree he had ever seen. It took him a moment of observation, but eventually he figured it out, the leaves were shaped like baritone saxophones. A peculiar choice of instrument, but who was he to judge? The closer he looked the more astonished he became, the instrument leaves were playing in the wind. As wind blew in through an open window, instead of rustling the leaves as one would expect the saxophone-leaves were playing a tune as light as the breeze. The impossibly slow, sweet, jazzy melody could put even the most caffeinated of toddlers to sleep. The wind picked up very slightly, and the tempo swelled accordingly, Bob was understandably mesmerized until the music stopped with a loud slam from the window. He looked up with a start, half because of the shock of the slam, and half because he was more than slightly annoyed with whoever had stopped the enchanting music. However, all the disappointment vanished when he saw who it was. “Ellen!!” Bob shouted while running to meet her, ”I was sitting on the sofa, and, and then I was IN the sofa! But I wasn’t in the sofa I was HERE, and the tree leaves aren't leaves, they're SAXOPHONES! But, but, the leaves, the wind, they were playing! Oh, Ellen! It was so beautiful!”. Bob suddenly remembered how he had been thinking of the aforementioned ridiculous word, and in a moment of trembling euphoria and remembrance he shouted the newly recalled word, “Kasmojibnites!!”. Ellen, just as confused by Bob’s sudden outburst as by his nearly psychotic ramblings grabbed his hand and sat him down, “Now Bob, I’m going to need you to slow down, and explain to me what you know, with as minimal rambling as possible.” With some difficulty Bob was able to explain what had gone on in the short time he had been in the room with the fir tree. Something of note is that Bob’s preoccupation with the tree had left him oblivious to the open window and oblivious to the fact that he had no idea where he was. The truth is that Bob was often a bit absent minded, and that Ellen was generally the more organized of the two. In the end Bob’s intelligence paired with Ellen’s ingenuity made them a great team, and part of what made the Pampered Pup so successful.
Funnily enough, Ellen’s story was shockingly similar to Bob’s, in the respect that it also involved furniture. While Ellen was running errands she remembered that they had been wanting a new armchair for the waiting room at the Pampered Pup, and it just so happened that the store was having a sale. She sat down in one of the chairs that looked most promising, and was, to her astonishment, pulled into the chair. After explaining herself she got up and looked out the window. Outside was odd, at least to Ellen’s perspective, it appeared to be a village of sorts with about twenty five buildings of varying sizes that they could see. Another peculiar aspect was the appearance of the structures, they looked almost fluffy, like cushions of sorts. That’s when it hit her, the houses were shaped like any kind of upholstered furniture you could imagine. Armchairs, sofas, divans, and futons, If it was an article of furniture wholly or partly stuffed with material that’s intended use was sitting, resting, or reclining purposes, it was there. So, not only did that mean that she was in a furniture world - no, she noted, it was also Christmas (just like Bob’s position). This was an interesting finding, later when she and Bob met again, because that shows that time is the same speed everywhere. Not that anyone questioned that fact, but just seeing it was a curiosity. Then, though, she decided that if she sunk into a chair near her, she might get back home. As she sat down on one, it suddenly jumped up and walked around – with her in it. “Why can I not see?” The chair cried. “Oh!” shrieked Ellen, jumping off the chair. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to sit on you!” “SIT ON ME?” the chair screamed. “WHAT ARE YOU - A HUMAN?” Ellen, quickly discovering the chair’s dislike of humanity, said “No - I am just a visitor from Earth. Hypothetically speaking, how would you get back to Earth?” The chair replied, “The portal only opens on the fourth Wednesday of every month.” Bob pulled up a calendar on his watch. “Fourth Wednesday. Fourth Wednesday. Oh goodness! There's only one in two months!” he muttered. “Well, Ellen, it looks like we’re stuck here for a while, unless we can find another way home. Mr. Chair, do you have any ideas?” The chair replied, “First, I am not just any ordinary chair. I was made by IKEA. Now that we have that sorted out, you should go see the mayor. He is in the Jim, at the school.” Bob promptly inquired, “Where is the school?” “Go down 5th Street until you reach The Orange Futon, then turn right. The school is the purple sofa.” Bob was frantically jotting down notes, with the software Jot, on his ancient Palm V PDA, a relic from 1999 he kept around just for fun. Bob and Ellen thanked the chair and started walking down 5th Street.
Chapter 3 - Guests at PE
As Bob and Ellen walked, they discussed the peculiar situation they were in. Eventually, they found The Orange Futon, a high-quality hotel, and began making their way to the school. When they arrived, they asked for directions to the gym. “Do you mean the Jim, or the gym?” a blue chair inquired. “The gym, where PE is held,” reported Ellen. “Oh, it’s room 421. Hallway Four, Floor Two, Room One.” Bob and Ellen stepped into the nearest elevator, and found they were on floor forty-one. They pressed the button for floor two. Eventually, the owners of the Pampered Pup arrived on floor two. They saw doors labeled 10,9,8, and so on. They walked down the hallway. When the door to the gym opened, a blast of sound hit them. “KEEP THOSE LEG STRETCHES GOING, CUPCAKES!” shouted a chair sitting on a podium. He was wearing large, thick glasses. As they watched, a bolt shot loose from a chair and struck the coach in the glasses, breaking them. “COME ON!” shouted the coach. Then he noticed Bob and Ellen. “LATE AGAIN, ALBERT? TEN POINTS FROM, OH, WHAT HOUSE ARE YOU IN AGAIN?” “House?” “YES, YOU NINCOMPOOP! RED, BLUE, OR GREEN?” Bob quickly replied “Red.” “WELL, DO YOUR LEG STRETCHES!” Bob and Ellen, realizing that the coach thought that they were one chair, moved together to a spot on the floor. They began stretches. Luckily, they were far away from the coach, and the coach didn’t notice that Ellen was more flexible than Bob. This led to an odd lopsided effect, caused by their differing flexibilities. Bob, seeing a button on the wall, investigated, and pushed the button. The floor dropped out from under Bob and Ellen’s feet, and they fell into chairs. A calm computerized voice announced “Thank you for boarding SDOT, the School Department Of Transportation! Please state your destination, or enter it on the keyboard.” Bob stated, “The Gym, please.” The computer replied, “You are at the G. Y. M. Would you like to go to the J. I. M?” Ellen replied, “Yes.” The elevator wooshed off, traveling like the Great Glass Elevator, zooming in all directions - up, down, left, and right. Soon, it slowed, and finally stopped. When Bob and Ellen exited, they were greeted by a pair of doors bearing the legend “Mayor.” They opened them and walked in.
Chapter 4 - Nothing In The Minutes
The Mayor, Harold Bob Joe Yedford the Third, was an extremely bureaucratic man. As Bob and Ellen entered his well-lit office, he looked up, then looked right back down again. “Names!” he barked. Bob replied, “We are Bob and Ellen Marsh.” The Mayor slowly and deliberately searched through a folder bulging with papers marked “Appointments.” He raised his watery eyes and replied “Nothing in the minutes, nothing on the appointment list. No interviews without appointments except between four and seven P.M. on every other Wednesday.” Bob replied, “We don’t want an interview, just some help.” “Help only on the first Tuesday at 3 PM.” Bob looked at his watch. It was 2:59. They waited a minute. One minute later, Harold Bob Joe Yedford the Third inquired wearily, “How may I help?” “We need a way back home in time for opening on next Monday - we’re closed for the rest of the week.” “Hmph. To Earth I assume.” “Yes.” “We’re all out of portals, they need some food. You’ll have to visit the land of Bingleblort. They grow food for the portals to eat. Next!” At the mayor’s cry, the SDOT elevator sucked them in and spirited them back off to the front entrance. They promptly headed to the general store, which to their chagrin, carried a long list of extremely random things. Jim’s Peanut Butter was chief among them. Bob, whose love was peanut butter, took off running across the store, screeching, “PEANUT BUTTER!” Once Bob was about twelve paces away from the wall of twenty seven choices of Jim’s Peanut Butter, a huge, purple sofa leapt in front of him. A small sofa cushion leapt behind the gigantic sofa, squeaking, “Master, do you wantee to eatsa a big dogsie bone? Do you wantee to eat a dogsie bone? Dogsie bone? YIP!” Bob plowed into the couch, landing with a, “MMPPHH!” “Heha, moochie. What’ve you been doin’? How’ve ya happened to plow into me? Hee hee. What are ya anyways? HAW.” The little sofa cushion ran up the back of the purple sofa, screaming, “YIP! YAP! DOGSIE BONE NOOOOOOOOW!” And Bob said, “Sorry, I don’t- I didn’t- erm…” “S’ ok,” the couch growled. Bob felt slightly better until the couch snarled, “OR IS IT!” and leapt at him. Bob raced to Ellen, and the two ran for some kind of cover from the infuriated sofa and the crazy sofa cushion which thought it was a dog. Bob and Ellen reached the SDOT elevator, and as Ellen used a big can of congealed peanuts to keep the sofa cushion back (the couch was really slow) Bob frantically tried to decide which button on the elevator he should press. ‘Not the Eyg,’ he thought. ‘That must be some kind of school cafeteria. Ah, the Abstract Art Gallery,’ he decided, pressing the ‘Abstract Art Gatherthing’ button. “Ellen!” he cried. The elevator doors opened just as the huge couch leapt at them- Ellen leapt towards Bob- the elevator doors began to close- And Bob and Ellen were in the SDOT elevator, safe from the demented objects- For now. And just before the elevator turned into a portal of purple, a robotic voice blared, “To the ‘Abstract Art Gatherthing.’” Bob and Ellen were turned into nothing and sucked into nowhere.
*** Bob opened his eyes, wondering why he was so stiff. He felt like his eyes could barely open a slit. For some reason, he felt like his hand was on top of his head, and his chin was a triangle. But he was not abstract art. OR WAS HE? The thought hit Bob as he tried to walk and ended up with a yellow ribbon around his ankle,and a purple bottom. How he knew, he had no idea. As Bob the abstract art attempted to move from his painting, he paused. Did his thumb feel something? Bob looked around the place before his squinting eyes. Pieces of strange, abstract art surrounded him. If he squinted really, REALLY, hard he saw that some of the paintings were by Picasso, and others were painted by Joan Miro,and Wassily Kandinsky, among many others. He gasped. Ellen was across the gallery. As a bright blue smurf with twelve eyes, one hand, and a bald head. He knew it was Ellen, because HE JUST KNEW. “Ellen,” he tried to say, but the stupid painting he was in wouldn’t let him say anything. “Bob,” He heard her whispering. “Can you talk to me?Bob?” “Ellen,” He attempted again. “Bob, you need to-” Suddenly her voice broke off. An abstract painting of circles, squares,and triangles was speaking in a strange gibberish. “Ned hot meeypo toca bleh da bo bed la!” The painting declared. A separate painting, which looked like a blot of ink snapped, “ook leb bed dah! Yeezy pa!” The painting which had spoken first replied, “Beet la booza, noot!” “Cooka de booka, blep!” Bob wondered what language they were speaking in. Bob tried to exchange a look with Ellen, but found it impossible. Ellen tried again. “Bob! Bob, are you here? Bob!”Once again, Bob could not reply. The paintings continued gibbering. Bob pressed the strange button he’d felt earlier. Suddenly, it felt as if he was nobody, he was nowhere… As if he was in another portal, he disappeared. “BOB!” Ellen screamed. He was gone.
Chapter 5- In Dictionopolis
Bob landed with a bump. He was in a cobbled market place. Then the air beside him shimmered. Ellen the twelve-eyed smurf popped out in front of him, shimmered, and returned to her normal self. “Bob!” Ellen screamed. “Oh, having so many eyes was so weird!” Bob suspected this lack of Ellen’s usual decorum would pass soon. Bob saw a shop labeled “Words For You” with a pretty little sign. “Ellen, let’s go ask where we are. It doesn’t look like we’re in sofa-land anymore.” “Okay, BOB!” Ellen replied. She was nearly vibrating with excitement. Then she slowly returned to normal.
*** When they walked inside “Words For You,” they saw a gigantic bee. It buzzed and turned around. “Hello! h-e-l-l-o” the bee spelled rapidly. “I am the Spelling Bee! b-e-e.” “Hi,” Bob replied slowly. “Where are we?” “You are in Dictionopolis, friends! f-r-i-e-n-d-s” Bob wasn’t usually given to stuttering, but the oddness got to him a bit. “Oh- okay. Wait. Who made this world?” “It has always been. But there are legends. Legends of another world, where almighty ‘humans’ with ‘pencils’ p-e-n-c-i-l-s have the powers to make anything. A-n-y-t-h-i-n-g,” the bee replied. “I can do that a little,” the bee continued. “I’ll show you. y-o-u” The bee walked to a large case and pulled out a few letters. “First, you pick your letters!” The Spelling Bee had picked a t, an a, and a c. “Then you put them together, with whitespace.” The bee opened a drawer. It was full of an almost palpable whiteness. The bee dipped each of the letters in, and stuck them together, making the word ‘cat.’ “And then, we use the C. O. P. Y. Machine. That stands for Controlled autOmatic rePlication thingY.” The bee opened a large flap on what looked like a microwave, television, printer, and camera, and put the word in. The bee pressed a large green button. After some grunting noises, the machine ejected a paper cat. “We weren’t specific enough.” The bee worked with lightning speed, constructing the sentence “One large, kind, 1 ½ year old orange live cat.” The machine took longer, but finally released a large orange cat. It meowed and rubbed its face on everyone’s legs. Then it started purring. “Mr. Bee, we are trying to get home, to the world of magic pencils.” Ellen declared. “Can that machine make us a portal?” The bee looked a little dissapointed, but replied “Yes, it can. If you come back, can you bring me a pencil?” Bob rummaged around in his pockets, muttering “paper - tissue - pack of gum - pencil - eraser -oh, wait, a pencil!” Bob pulled the pencil out of his pocket. The bee thought of the new worlds it could create. “Thank you so much.” The bee sighed happily.