[Sal the Mudokon]

well, this is the next exciting cahpter in the tale of mudokon known as Sal. It WILL get more interesting. By the way, my story (unlike most) has a few definite goals and parts that are intended to be put into the story, while still being fun to write because i have the freedom to put whatever i want in between! and im not so good at writing dialogue, so im rather proud of this chapter! so, as promised, heres Sal!


Sal's Oddysee

Chapter 5: The Culture

Sal didn’t take to the native mudokons as well as he might have wanted to. Okay, okay, he spent most of his days in shackles. But every now and then, a mudokon would grab Sal by the chain he was on and take him around the village to introduce him to their way of life.
Over the course of about two weeks, Sal could whistle many phrases, and became familiar with most everything in the tribe.
“Well,” started Kel, “What do you want to learn today?” She, of course, expected Sal to say what he always said: “Whatever you want to waste my time talking about”, but this time he said,
“Exactly how old are you?”
“Well that’s a new one! Let’s see.” She let out a whistle and two mudokons came to her. “Can I have the book of records?” she beckoned.
“Yes, my queen!” the two replied.
“This will only take a moment,” she assured Sal.
After about five minutes, the mudokons came back with an old, wrinkly mudokon. Kel made a strange little smile to him, and even seamed to blow him a kiss. Writh noticed this and made a similar smile back.
“Where are the records?” asked Sal.
“He is the records,” replied Kel with certain maturity, “Tell me Writh, how old am I?”
“You are exactly… well let’s see…carry the five… divide by three…umm… one second, I’ll get it… okay, here we go! You are exactly, WAIT! THIS CAN’T BE RIGHT!” Writh sat down and counted out numbers on his fingers for the next ten minutes.
“Well, how old am I?” urged Kel.
“My queen, I have counted over and over and have come up with the same number, but it can’t be!”
“Well! Tell me!”
Writh took a deep breath, “eehhhh… 32.” He jumped back as if to be hit by Kel.
“WHAT?!” screamed Kel, “It can’t be!”
“What’s wrong?” asked Sal, “Most of us don’t live past 15!”
“You fool,” said Writh, “everyone knows that a queen can only be queen until she is 30! Then she must be replaced!”
“Oooh, so old Kelly here is late for a replacement eh?”
“I guess you could say that,” said Kel angrily.
“Well, why don’t you just pop out a little queeny-weeny and we’ll just let her take it from there?”
“It’s not that simple!” roared Kel in frustration, “I have to eat the Maridarri plant!”
“The whatty-what plant?”
“The Maridarri plant,” proclaimed Writh, “It’s a sacred plant found closest near the great beach on the coast of Reama.”
“And where is that?”
“Oh, only a MONTHS WALK FROM HERE!”
“Wait, wait, wait! Then you’re not exactly the queen, are you?”
“Well,” whispered Kel, “No.”
“But if theirs no queen, then who rules the tribe?”
“No one does, if I’m not the queen.”
“You know,” said Sal confidently, “The tribe could reach a point of mass hysteria without it’s beloved queen.”
“Oh no!” shouted Writh, “you’re right!”
“Well, then maybe we could secretly send a little party over to that little coast of yours and get you that little plant, get back, and then we’ll tell the tribe about your little lie after we have ourselves a new queen.”
“You know,” started Writh, “for a glukk-schmuck, he’s pretty smart.”
“You mean it might work?” asked Kel.
“Of course it will work!” stated Sal, “All of my plans work! Why back where I used to come from they called me Sal the-umm, Sal the-well, they said it so loudly that it was indefinable, but it was something good!”
“Speaking of that, Sal, where are you from?” asked the queen.
“Well, like I was saying, gotta go plan, ya know!”