Chapter 17

chapter seventeen Our parents could possibly be there in danger. We still have time to save them. We need to go fight Thrall RIGHT NOW. "Uh, can I talk to you guys in private?" I whisper, throwing Ry.k a winning smile, then dragging my friends away. "Dude," Dirk says, "what are you—"

"We can't go to the Tower yet." June and Quint look at me like I have a monster octopus tentacle for a hand. "Excuse me?" June says. "Every second we waste is another second my parents might be in danger!" "You know just as well as I do," I say, "that the goo-slime isn't strong enough. Not for the Tower. Not even close." June scowls—I think she's about to launch into her next argument when, luckily, Ry.k interrupts. "Goo-slime?" "Of my creation!" Quint says, turning. He's so proud that he hurries over to Ry.k. Zero fear. He explains what it is, what it does to Thrull's vines, and how he made it. He even produces a small vial to show him. Ry.k reaches into a snack bucket, fishes around for another rodent furball, finds one, then hurls it at a nearby monster playing Pac- Man. "Werbert!"

Werbert looks up from the machine, realizes his boss is waiting on him, and quickly slithers over. He smells even worse than he looks. "You!" Ry.k barks, pointing at Quint. "Show Werbert your so-called goo-slime." Werbert extends a long, snake-like arm. Quint pours some into Werbert's palm, and the monster shivers from the cold substance. "Oooh!" Werbert croons, running a wormy finger across the goo-slime. "Fascinating."

Then, suddenly, Werbert begins retching. It's the loudest barf I've ever heard. He hacks and wheezes until he coughs up, from somewhere deep inside his body, a small jar. "Gnarly," Dirk whispers. Inside the jar is a severed vine. Werbert pours some of Quint's goo-slime into the jar. The vine writhes and sizzles but remains intact. In the past. My goose lame completely destroyed the vines, but recently it has not been nearly as effective. THAT IS BECAUSE THE VINES GROW STRONGER EVERY DAY. YOUR GOOSE LIME IS NO LONGER POTENT ENOUGH, "But, behold..." Werbert says. We stand back as the worm monster retches once more, this time coughing up a glob of

slime. It resembles goo-slime, only it's thicker and brighter; in fact, it glows with such neon brightness that it's hard to look directly at it. "I call it .h.u.g..t Spit," Werbert says. "In your tongue, it is something like 'ULTRAPOTENT, ALL-NATURAL, ORGANIC GOO.'" "It's like Ultra-Slime," Quint says softly, eyeing the stuff with awe. "Oooh, organic? I bet they charge double for that," I say. Werbert pours a single drop into the jar. The vine instantly bubbles, sizzles, then melts. All that's left is brown paste and ash.

It destroyed it instantly. Wow, A super weapon. "Can I get a small taste?" Dirk asks. We all gape at him, and his cheeks turn pink. "Y'know, just to compare with the old stuff..." he says. "I got an iron belly. Comes from my dad. He was a poison tester for the army. Called him 'Steel Stomach Savage.'" "Before he was a Universal Warrior?" I ask.