[Mac the Janitor]

Hello. This is Lily the Oddlympian's backstory. Enjoy.

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I have been here at Vykkers Labs all my life. I was born here. I don't have any parents, any friends. My entire life has been spent in this uncomfortable, rusty metal cage. I bet you're thinking, "Man, what a boring life." Well, that's the way it was for every one of us fuzzles. We were fed occasionally, as they obviously didn't want us to die. But almost every two weeks, a fuzzle in a nearby cage would be taken away, and the next day I would have a new neighbor. Nobody knew where they went. Not even the eldest of us. All we heard were horrifying screams echoing through the dimly lit hall.

"Jenkins, get me a test fuzzle!" screeched Earwig the Vykker. He was a vykker employed at the same facility I was imprisoned at. Earwig was identical to all the other Vykkers, except for the large tatoo of a porkchop on the back of his head. I never knew why he chose a porkchop, and I didn't dare ask. "JENKINS, NOW!" he yelled.

An intern stumbled out of the main labratory, flailing his arms as if he were panicking. "Mmph...mm mph mnn?" he asked. He was Jenkins, I assumed. Earwig's personal assistant intern.

Earwig had a distorted look on his face. "Don't ask me why, dammit! Just get me one!"

I heard clumsy footsteps slowly coming toward me. Jenkins sat down at the computer hub that my cage was sitting on and quickly (and clumsily) typed in something. I turned just in time to view what he had typed on the computer screen, although I didn't quite understand what it meant.

PARGO BLUNCK, it read in small, blue letters.

There was a loud electric noise that followed. I saw the bulb on top of my cage suddenly turn off. Jenkins yanked the eroded, rusty top off my cage, and grabbed me with his two large, floppy hands. He brought me back over to Jenkins.

"Took you long enough! What were you doing over there?!"

Jenkins shrugged.

"Now, be a good little intern and get me the--" Earwig stopped in midspeech and glared at me. He tiptoed closer to Jenkins and whispered something into his ear.

"Mphmm-mm-hmm." Jenkins trotted off into another room which I had never been in. It was labeled "Supply Room" on the door in large, fading red letters. I had heard stories about what came out of it. Bad stories.

What were they going to do to me? All my life I have been stuck in that dumb old stinky cage, and now they release me. But for what?

A cold rush of air ruffled my fur. I shuddered, not wanting to know what Jenkins would bring.

A few minutes later, I saw Jenkins come out of the Supply Room with a large, discreet brown paper bag. He handed it to Earwig, peering around nervously to see if anyone was watching.

"Thank you. Now, get me my medical gloves."

Uh oh. Medical gloves. Doesn't that usually mean that things are going to get messy?

I whimpered involuntarily.

Jenkins stumbled off into a small office. I heard several crashes and bangs, most likely due to his uncontrollable clumsiness. He then walked back out, this time with a limp.

Earwig eagerly snatched the medical gloves from Jenkins and snapped them on. He had a truly evil grin on his face as he pulled something out of the brown bag. I let out a distorted scream as I saw the large, sharp needle in his hand.

"Heh-heh-heh," Earwig snickered, "now let's get started..."