The Glukkon Child
 

Scrabs screamed into the darkness. Wild ratz pulled the rotting flesh off the festering corpse of a long- dead paramite. Vyker ships floated eerily in and out of the treetops, searchlights flashing and shimmering. Gob, the local Mudokon hunter, whose tribes' very existence depending on him getting food for them, fearlessly ran away from it all. Through the forest he sprinted, panting and wheezing- he, like most of his race, were lazy by inclination and didn't excersise much. The screeching and scuffling he heard all about him sent a wave of fresh fear flooding his body as he ran, deeper and deeper into the forest. Branches whipped his ankles, cutting them. He cried out, tripped, fell and...silence. Scarcely daring to breathe, Gob glanced around. He had tripped on a hollow stump. Gob, heaving a sigh of relief, began to walk away, wondering vaguely if he could capture a Meep and pass it off as a King Scrab. A low wheezing, however, brought his attention back to the hollowed stump. What was that noise? He approached the stump cautiously, slowly, ready to bravely dash in th other direction if he needed to, and then...he saw it. It was swaddled in warm, soft fabric. It was small, brown in colouring, with a long, slim head. And in it's mouth was a small...glowing...cigar. Gob, open- mouthed, stared at it in disbelief. He removed the cloth sorrounding it to reveal a thin, pathetic body, shrivelled, useless legs and very long dangling arms.
"Oh, man," moaned Gob weakly, leaning against the tree for support and wishing he had a cigar himself, "it's a baby Glukkon!".

Egads! Twist! That's pretty good.

Part I
 

Chuck had always known he was a little different from the other Mudokons. He could never join in with the Group Meditation, and he always felt uneasy with the whole "one with nature" thing...he felt an odd, intinctive urge to tear Nature down and get filthy rich...Still, he was happy, and had good friends amongst the Mudokon kids. About a head taller than the Mudokons, Chuck wore a business suit that Gob had somehow procured during one of his infrequent forays into Industrial territory rather than the loincloth the others used. He had breathing problems- not surprising, as he had been born with a cigar in his mouth, and the only time he had taken it out since was to replace it. Chuck always needed somebody to help him whenever arms or hands were needed, for his were always busy wearing shoes and walking for him. No, despite all this, it still became a shock when the tribes' shaman told him that he wasn't, in fact, a Mudokon at all, but a Glukkon, found by Gob in the forest. The Shaman told Chuck everything- how Gob had brought Chuck to him, how the Shaman had decided to raise him as his own, and then the Shaman told him his destiny...

Wow, that's a good start

Part II
 

Chuck stared at the Shaman in shock.
"I can't do that!" He gasped. "They'd kill me!! They'd know!!"
"Yes, you can, young Glukkon." The Shaman's voice was solemn, but his eyes were twinkling. "You can. It's what you were born to do, it's the reason Gob found you in the woods nineteen years ago."
"Ok, ok," began Chuck, a feeling of desperation growing inside him, "let's just say I manage to get accepted by the Glukkons, how am I supposed to reach Glokstar status? I won't know what to do, how to act, where to-"
"Relax." It was not a command from the Shaman, just a suggestion in his deep, calming voice. "I have someone on the inside. He will collect you any minute now, and guide you. In front of other Glukkons, he will pose as your valet." Chuck frowned slightly.
"Valet? But the only people who Glukkons have as valets are-" He broke off. From outside of the tent, there was a sound of footsteps. Metal footsteps.
"FREEZE!!"