As it turned out, the "place with the bikes" was on the outskirts of town, decaying motorcycles lying in disorderly heaps with paths formed of sheets of rusting metal weaving through them. Very few people seemed to live in this part of town - Finn supposed it was because it was harder to make a comfortable house inside a pile of motorbikes than it was in a hollowed-out car or bus.

"Y'know, we couldn't have picked a better part of town to start looking for a hidden stash of stolen goods," Simon said, climbing up a bike pile to reach one of the fuses they needed. "Hardly anyone around, lots of hiding places…"

"I guess, but I don't really see any place big enough to hide a bunch of scratching posts." Finn replied, wandering over to a pile of smaller parts. "Hey, is this one of the fuses we're after?" Finn held up the fuse in question for Simon to see.

"Uhh… Could be. Hang on, lemme take a look…" Simon slid down the bike pile to the ground, heading over to Finn's location. "Hmm, this one doesn't have any identification codes on it." Simon started digging in his bag. "I'll check the book just to make absolute su-"

Finn rolled his eyes. Great, he's bringing out the book again! "Dude, you don't have to check the book! It looks pretty much the same as the one you just found!"

"Yeah, but some of these things look practically identical! If we get the wrong type of fuse, Bonnie'll chew us out and we'll just end up back here!" Simon retorted, opening the book with one hand.

"Yeah, so why is it that you've only been checking the ones I find?"

"C'mon, bro, it's just 'cause you keep finding weird fuses with no identification marks! All it means is I don't have the serial code to go off of, so I have to-"

Finn knocked the book out of Simon's hand.

"…Oh, yeah, that's totally helping you not look like a meathead." Simon rolled his eyes, then retrieved the book from the ground, brushing dirt off the cover with one hand. "What the hell is your problem, man?"

"My problem is that you're not just being a nerd, you're being a really bossy nerd!" Finn snapped, stomping back and forth over the rusty sheet metal that made up the walkway in frustration. Weird mystery or not, Simon's bookworm tendencies were starting to grate on his nerves again. "I coulda gathered a whole bunch of fuses by now if you didn't insist on checking every single one that I find! We could be looking for the missing gnaw-blocks and scratching posts by now, or finding my friend! Eesh, I bet he wouldn't wanna check every single fuse I find!"

"How do you know he wouldn't?" Simon retorted, then suddenly glanced downwards with wide eyes. "…Uh. Finn?"

"Because he's a globdang hero, not some nerd who can't keep his nose out of a book for five seconds!" Finn was yelling by this point. Normally, he wouldn't have gotten this angry about being stuck with a bossy nerd for a while, but when that was combined with the feeling that Jake had abandoned him for Gunter of all people, plus the still-smarting fact that he still hadn't found Professor Coldstone… well, it was hitting a lot of Finn's frustration buttons.

"Finn," Simon said, carefully, through gritted teeth. "Stop. Stomping. about."

"I CAN'T! I'M TOO MA-" An ominous groaning, much louder than the one Simon had initially heard, echoed beneath Finn's feet. "I… that's bad, right?"

Simon kneeled at the edge of the walkway, tapping gently on the metal with one hand and wincing at the hollow, echoing noise that followed. "Sounds like there's a giant pit under that sheet metal. And considering how corroded the bit you're standing on is…? Yeah, that's kinda bad." Simon said, getting as close to the edge of the metal path as he dared. "Try and make your way over to me. Slowly, though - stomping around too hard ain't gonna help." Simon started digging in his bag with one hand, eventually retrieving a rope. "When you're close enough, I'll toss the rope, okay?"

Finn started inching slowly over to Simon's position, wincing every time the sheet of ancient metal beneath his feet creaked and groaned. "Eesh. How did nobody notice this was so unstable before?"

Simon shrugged as he tied one end of the rope to a half-buried lamppost. "Probably because it's somewhere quiet like this… plus, there's the fact that, y'know, most of the people in this town are like half as big as you."

"Yeah, I guess that makes se-wait, did you seriously just call me fat at a time like this?!" Finn said, incredulous.

"What?! No! You're just physically bigger than a rat-man or a cat!… I mean, it probably doesn't help that you're built like a potato with legs, but I'm pretty sure that's all muscle, not fat-"

In his outrage, Finn momentarily forgot that he was on a crumbling sheet of rusted metal balanced above a pit of undisclosed depth, and stomped forward a step. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING A POTAT-" An awful crunch-creak-groan sound echoed below Finn's feet. "…Oh. Dang. Forgot about the-"

The rusted metal below Finn's feet crumbled away, leaving nothing between him and the blackness below.

Years of dungeon-crawling had given Finn quick reflexes, and he managed to grab ahold of the edge of the newly-made hole before falling completely into the undefined abyss below. However, this was evidently going to be a temporary solution at best, as the edge of the hole started to tear away as well. "Oh Glob oh Glob OH GLOB-"

Simon didn't hesitate. Wrapping the free end of the rope around one hand as he moved, he dashed out onto the crumbling metal plate, diving and catching Finn's wrist with the other hand just as Finn's handhold broke off from the rest of the walkway.

Before either of them could say anything, there was a loud groaning as the sheet of dilapidated metal slowly started to buckle under their combined weight. Throwing caution to the wind, Simon got to his feet, yanking the other boy out of the crumbling hole with an adrenaline-fuelled burst of strength and an inspiring cry of "MOTHER-ZARKING-BUTT-STALLION-USB-DONGLE-MCRIB!". Immediately, Finn grabbed onto the rope as well, which worked out well for him, as their half of the walkway then chose to crumble into several parts. Finn and Simon yelled in shock as they went into freefall for a moment before the rope, still tied securely, did its job in breaking their fall, leaving both boys hanging, some distance from the bottom of the chasm.

"So, uh…" Finn was the first to recover. "Can you see a way down? 'Cause I don't wanna climb back onto that rusty path."

"I think I see a ledge leading down over there, but we're gonna have to swing over to it." Simon pointed with his free hand. "Shouldn't be too much of a problem, we just need to swing at the same time."

"Gotcha." Finn started putting his weight into swinging the rope. "Thanks for saving my butt up there, by the way."

"Eh, no prob. Pretty heroic, right?" Simon responded, grinning up at the other boy with a mix of playfulness and unmitigated "ha-I-totally-proved-your-previous-statement-wrong ".

Finn hesitated. Simon had just saved him from falling into a mysterious chasm, despite the fact that he'd been right in the middle of chewing him out… but his pride refused to let him outright admit the other boy had acted like a hero."… Don't get too ahead of yourself, dude. You've got potential, let's say - maybe you-" Finn made the jump for the ledge at the same time Simon did, both boys landing safely. "Maybe you can come along with on whatever adventure Professor Coldstone and I have once we meet up."

Simon rolled his eyes, but smiled regardless as he took in their surroundings further.. "Yeah, sure, sounds good…. in the meantime, though, you wanna check out the bottom of this chasm? I think I see some stuff down there."

"Heck yeah!" Finn replied, taking a torch out of his backpack. There was plenty of light streaming down from the hole above, but it didn't illuminate the entire place. "How're we gonna get out of here once we're done checkin' it out, though?" Finn glanced up to the hole above - if it came to it, they could probably try climbing back up the rope, but he really didn't want to trust that crumbly walkway again.

For a moment, Finn could have sworn he'd seen someone in a brown coat and hat peering through the hole, but they vanished so quickly that he brushed it off as his imagination.

"I think this ledge is actually more like a path up to the top. See-" Simon kneeled, pointing to some tracks in the dirt that were neither his nor Finn's, "-someone's been up and down here a few times quite recently. Can't make out what made 'em, though… But yeah, we're okay for a way out."

"Man, it's too bad Jake isn't here. He coulda just stretched us out no probs…" Finn mused, peering into the gloom. Somewhere below, he could hear the trickle of running water.

"I hear that." Simon said, fishing a small electric lantern out of his own bag. "Gunter would've been great to have in a place like this… I wonder how the two of them are doing with that gross challenge?…"

—

Jake stared into the mug set before him, barely able to restrain his inner smugness. He hadn't expected Old Baxter's challenge to be drinking the same Soda-coffee-grounds-beetle-butter-kimchi-grape-jel ly-and-ham-chunk-juice cocktail he'd fabricated over a game of Card Wars a while back. Gunter would probably be disappointed that he didn't get a chance to prove he had an iron gut in front of all these rats and cats, but no matter. He totally had this in the bag.

"You're not getting cold feet, now, are you?" Old Baxter - an aging, gingery cat man with an amiable manner -inquired, paws folded on the counter in front of him. "'Less you want somethin' a bit easie-" the words died on Old Baxter's lips as Jake abruptly started knocking back the vile concoction in the mug. Evidently, he hadn't expected Jake to drink his challenge so easily.

"HA!" Jake slammed his empty mug down on the counter, grinning despite the torment his tastebuds were currently in. "Nothin-" Jake burped loudly, then shuddered momentarily as the taste revisited his mouth. "-Nothin' I can't handle!"

The small crowd that had gathered cheered, and old Baxter nodded approvingly, evidently impressed too. "Not bad, son. And…" Digging under the counter for a moment, he emerged moments later with a device that vaguely resembled a pog-maker. "…That compression coil, as promised. She's all yours! Anythin' else you're after while in town, boys? "

"Well, our buds are lookin' for eight of a certain type of fuse…" Jake said as he tucked the compression coil safely somewhere in his belly fat.

"Yeah, but Simon took the book with him, and he'll get all picky if we bring back the wrong ones." Gunter sighed.

"You mean that human kid and his bear-hat friend, right?" One of the bartenders - the rat girl with her head perpetually tilted to the left - inquired. "I saw 'em pick up a High-Voltage SR-brand Mako Breaker about ten minutes ago. My sister's got like fifty of those - tell you what, if you can do MY gross challenge, I'm sure I can get her to part with eight no sweat."

"Meryl, nobody's enough of a donk to take that challenge of yours." Old Baxter intoned. "Right, boys?"

"Well, let's see what it is first!" Gunter said, sitting down.

Meryl immediately ducked behind the counter, rummaging with purpose. "Yeah, okay, lessee if… Hey, Bax, you didn't throw it out, did you?"

"Against my better judgement, no. Just moved it way back where I don't have to look at it every day." Old Baxter sighed.

"Yeah, I see it… Okay!" The rat girl rose from behind the counter, brandishing a red tin that might have been totally unassuming if it hadn't been for the fact that it was swollen at both ends like it was about to burst. Suddenly, the entire bar fell silent, all eyes on the fabled and dreaded can of something.

"What's 'Surströmming'?" Jake said, more than slightly baffled.

"You'll see… All you gotta do is eat a spoonful of it." Meryl said, voice tinged with borderline-sadistic glee.

Then, in the silence, Gunter spoke up.

"A spoonful?" the penguin practically scoffed. "Love, I'll do you one better - I'll eat the whole can." Immediately the bar filled with shocked gasps and muttering.

"So exactly what is this stuff, anyway?" Jake said, sniffing the can as the rat girl ran off - cackling a she went - to get a can opener, and Old Baxter went to open all the windows and doors. He couldn't smell much through the can, aside from a vague sense of foreboding.

"It's a type of preserved fish," Gunter said, rubbing his flippers together in anticipation. "Kind of smelly, though - Simon can't stand it, always leaves the house when I have a can. It tastes really good, though, if you can get past the smell!"

"Eesh. I might need to sit this one out, dude - Sometimes a good sense of smell ain't exactly useful."

Gunter shrugged. "Suit yourself, but you're missing out." Taking the can opener from Meryl - who then quickly dived behind an overturned table with several other patrons, covering her nose with a tablecloth - he carefully, reverently pierced the bloated can's top. Immediately there was a hissss as pressurised fish gas escaped from the can, followed by a medley of "Eurgh!"s and "ohmyglobWHY?!"s from the nearest bar patrons and onlookers.

Jake momentarily wondered what the big fuss was.

And then, the uninhibited scent of the surströmming hit Jake's sensitive nose like a rancid sledgehammer.

Jake gagged, his mouth watering - Nothing could have prepared him for this, not even the incident with the stench fairies. It was like rotten fish and rancid butter and decaying onions and zombie puke all at once, multiplied by a thousand! Even breathing through his mouth with his nose stretched into a knot, He could taste the oppressive aroma creeping into his sinuses. He barely registered that practically everyone else in the bar was at that moment reacting in similar fashion, albeit without the stretched nose. The only exception seemed to be Gunter, who merely waved a flipper in front of his face and chuckled before beginning to eat, evidently enjoying his vile-stenched snack.

"Oh Gob, I… THE STANK IS LEAKING INTO MY BRAIN!" Jake howled, clawing at his face in anguish. "IT'S EVERYWHERE AND I CAN'T ESCAPE IT!"

"Hey, if you're gonna puke, use the trash can!" Old Baxter managed to choke out, shoving an old wooden bucket towards Jake with his foot.

Jake, however, wasn't going to need a puke pail of any sort, for he passed out a moment later.

—

"Wow, this place is huge!" Finn said, approaching the stream at the bottom of the chasm. "I guess this used to be a regular old creek… Geez, all the dead plants down here make it kinda creepy."

Simon raised his lantern, illuminating the area further. IThe withered grass and greenery dotted around the place gave him a serious "area blighted by undead" impression, although it lacked the stench of decay. All Simon could smell at present was the residual dust from the collapsing walkway.

"Yeah, looks like they put the walkway on top to make it easier to navigate through town, and all the plantlife died when the light got cut off." Simon replied, craning his neck to try and get a better look ahead. "Hey, check it out, I think there's even a couple of trees down here too!"

Finn shone his torch down the path, and sure enough, there were two dusty-looking, long-dead trees, bark peeling in places.

The largest one was also host to a shelter built of scrap metal and wood. One could almost call it a treehouse.

"Aw geez!"

Simon inwardly groaned. Please tell me he doesn't seriously think that's Professor Coldstone's house.

"What if that's Professor Coldstone's house?"

…Guess he does.

"Seriously? You don't think he'd say if he lived in an artificial cave under Junkyard Town?" Simon said, following Finn as he made a beeline for the trees. "I mean, it's a pretty memorable house location… Plus, it looks pretty abandoned to me."

Finn made it to the steps up to the treehouse door before Simon did. "I guess… but we should check it out anyway, just to see if anyone DOES live down here, right?"

Simon groaned, but followed him up the stairs regardless - truth be told, he was interested in checking out the treehouse as well, but not for the same reasons as Finn. Why would someone go to the trouble of building a house in a hidden cave under the town? Was someone hiding down here, or was it just the work of some inventive kids who'd decided to make a secret clubhouse? "Why would someone want to live in a beat-up old place on a dead tree in a cave, though? Doesn't look like anyone's home, either way."

Finn rolled his eyes - Simon's constant poking holes in his reasoning was starting to annoy him. Couldn't he let him at least hope that Professor Coldstone lived there? It was like he didn't want him to find his friend. Does he think I'm gonna abandon him as soon as I find Prof. Coldstone or something? Eesh, maybe he really IS kind of like Ice King…

That said, however, there was no light to be seen through the door's window, nor through the gaps in the metal. A tug on the handle confirmed the door was locked, leaving Finn to shine his torch through the grimy door window as he peered inside the building.

He didn't see Professor Coldstone, but… well. This was more than a little interesting.

"…We've gotta get inside here." Finn said, pulling on the door handle again in vain. "Did you see any windows on the way up the stairs?"

"What? I don't think so, why do you…" Simon trailed off as Finn, spying a section of corrugated iron wall that seemed less attached to the treehouse than the other parts, wedged his torch in his belt loop and started nudging the section in question with his foot. "Finn, what are you even doing?"

"We've gotta get in there. Trust me." Finn responded, tugging on the loose sheet of metal. Simon was gonna love this…

"Are you— Finn! Quit it!" Simon hissed, hanging his lantern on a protruding branch."You can't just rip off part of the wall and walk in uninvited!"

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you'll forgive me in a second." Finn said, focusing more on the task at hand than Simon, who, from the corner of his eye, looked to be giving the door another try. "I mean, geez, sometimes heroes have to do stuff like thi-"

There was a creeeaaaak sound from Simon's position. Turning his attention away from the loose wall, Finn looked over to see Simon holding the door open.

"I don't think it was locked at all, bro. Just needed a little love." Simon shrugged, adjusting his waistcoat with his free hand.

Finn could have kicked himself. Not just because he had been so sure it was locked, but because he suddenly realized that he'd been trying to open the door the wrong way! Well done, Finn! Way to not make yourself look like the meathead he's been calling you!

If Simon had noticed the source of Finn's door problems, however, he didn't mention it. Instead, he, like Finn, was suddenly very interested in the contents of the treehouse, grabbing his lantern and stepping inside. Finn, pulling his torch from his belt loop, followed, silently hoping he'd seen what was inside correctly through the grimy window.

As it turned out, he had. laying in piles within the makeshift dwelling were blocks of brightly colored wood in various states of mastication - gnaw-blocks! - and wooden scratching posts with ragged carpet tied around them. Evidently, they had found the thief's stash house.

"…Well dang. I guess we do have a reason to be looking in here." Simon said. He raised his lantern and looked around with a low whistle. "Eeesh. There's more posts AND blocks in here than I think there are people in the town - although I guess that makes sense if he wants to re-sell 'em to people without suspicion."

Finn nodded, poking his head and torch into an adjacent room, which turned out to be full of dusty rolls of carpet. "Hey, check out all this stuff! I guess he replaces the covers on some of the posts when they get too shredded… I wonder how he fixes the gnaw-blocks?"

"I don't think he even bothers - I mean, people would probably notice if he used something gross like paste and sawdust." Simon responded. "You see any desks or notebooks in there? If we're really lucky, and if it IS O'Malley doing this, we might find some of his notes and skip the whole searching-his-office step entirely."

Finn shone his torch around the carpet room. "I don't see any desks or books…" his torchlight fell on a box in the dustiest corner of the room, full of spare parts. "Hey, I found some fuses, though!"

"Please tell me you're seriously not thinking of stealing the fuses from that box." Simon said as Finn stepped over a carpet roll to get to the corner. "Doesn't exactly go along with the whole "stealing is wrong" theme we've got going here…"

"Dude, it's not like people are gonna notice them missing, except the thief… just think of it as dungeon loot." Finn responded. "Unless you wanna spend a full day digging through rusty junk and checking the book a hundred more times…."

Simon opened his mouth, then hesitated for a moment. "…Okay, yeah, good point. Grab that thing with the blue logo on it as well- that's a compression coil."

Finn added the device to his armful of fuses. "Huh. Looks kind of like a pog maker."

"Hey, yeah, I think I see it t-"

A sudden creak from outside the shack, too loud to be much else than someone stepping on one of the numerous rickety boards that made up the staircase, interrupted their conversation.

"I heard it." Finn whispered. "You think that's-"

Simon, putting a finger to his mouth, crept silently towards the door, apparently intent on either identifying the stalker outside or getting the jump on him. As he watched the other boy sneak over the rickety timbers of the floor and towards the open door without so much as a tiny squeaking noise, Finn had to admit it- for such a nerdy kid, Simon was very good at sneaking about….

However, it seemed that moving quietly wasn't exactly useful when there was only one way out of the room, for as soon as Simon set a foot out of the door, he was wrenched out of view with a loud yelp. As the sounds of a struggle errupted outside, Finn, wasting no time, dropped the spare parts and hurdled the carpet roll as he drew his sword, intent on saving Simon from his ambusher.

As Finn dashed outside, he briefly caught a glimpse of Simon struggling with a clean-cut rat-man before getting struck heavily in the arm by a massive paw, right on the nerve. With one of Finn's arms rendered mostly numb, his huge, feline assailant had little to no trouble wrenching the demonsblood sword from his grasp. Finn wasn't about to give up, though, and lashed out with the arm that still had feeling in it, finding purchase on his attacker's neck before the massive cat managed to grab first his working arm, then the other, holding them behind Finn's back in a grip of steel. Looking over, Finn realized that Simon was in a similar position, although from the way he was trying to see behind them, he currently seemed more interested in who else might be with their captors.

As it turned out, there was someone else.

"See, what'd I tell ya, boys?" The tall, coat-and-hatted figure of the mayor made his way leisurely up the staircase, removing his hat to reveal a gingery, canine face with an oddly feline countenance. "We all just caught us the two thieves who've been sneakin' away with the town's scratchin' posts and gnawblocks! An' I must say…" The mayor shot a pointed glance over at Simon, who suddenly seemed very preoccupied with the floorboards. "…Ah wasn't expectin' to ever see you again, boy."

"WHAT?!" Finn yelled, attempting to jerk free of the grasp of his gargantuan captor. "We so did not steal those, we just found out where the real thief was keeping them!" Finn bit back the urge to add 'and by real thief, I mean YOU!'

"Let him go, O'Malley." Simon said, not breaking eye contact with the floor. "He only came to Uuu last night, how could he have stolen all of those posts and blocks?"

Finn nodded, catching on to Simon's plan- if one of them could stay out of jail, they could prove the other's innocence, or, failing that, spring the other free! "Yeah, dude, I'm from an entire other dimension! I couldn't have stolen those things even if I'd wanted to!"

O'Malley, standing between the two boys, clicked his teeth in disapproval. "Well, ya got a point, boy, but see… We overheard y'all talkin' about stealin' a bunch of fuses while ya were in that safehouse of yours, an' it sure sounded like you was doin' the plannin' for that job. So if y'all think we're settin' ya free after us hearin' that, guess again!"

Finn groaned, but decided to keep with this angle - If he couldn't stay out of jail, he was just going to have to trust in Simon… even if he was mostly hoping he'd go and fetch Jake to help bust him out. "Okay, fine, but you heard Simon telling me off for trying to take the fuses as well, right?"

"Didn't he, like, wind up going along with you, though?" the clean-cut rat-man interjected.

"Dude, that was just because of peer pressure!" Finn responded, grinning. "I've had to put up with this guy all day, and he's not got an unlawful bone in his body! He wouldn't even let me pick up a single fuse without checking his guidebook! Plus, well, he kinda saved my butt. He doesn't belong in jail - heck, he's practically hero material!" He glanced over at Simon, who was staring back at him with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude, although he still looked pretty worried. "He doesn't belong in jail!"

O'Malley raised an eyebrow at Finn's small speech. For a moment, Finn thought he was buying it.

Then the dog threw his head back and laughed.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA! Son, you sure as hell ain't from around here if you think that little crook don't belong in jail!" Simon flinched, as if the words were a physical blow. "See, me an' Simon here go way, way back-" Finn wasn't entirely surprised by the fact the mayor knew Simon's name, since Simon had known his, but he had wondered about the context… "-back when I wasn't the respectable gent you see before you today. Oh, I make no secret of my less reputable days, they're behind me, after all! An' you know how many houses that boy helped me rob in those disreputable days? Dozens! And then the little weasel and his brother double-crossed me and left me to rot in jail, doin' who knows what with the loot!"

"Oh come ON!" Finn yelled. "Have you MET Simon? He's a bossy egghead, not some sort of no-good backstabbing thief!" Finn glanced over to Simon, who was still looking at the ground, a look of utter misery on his face. "Besides, like I said before, this kid's not got an unlawful bone in his body, right, Simon?"

Silence.

"…Simon?"

Finn looked over again. Simon didn't respond, his eyes closed now, with the same expression as before. He didn't get it - why wouldn't Simon want to defend himself against crazy accusations like this?

Then Finn realized.

"…Oh my Glob. It's true, isn't it."

It wasn't even a question. Slowly, shakily, Simon nodded.

"Told ya, son." O'Malley leaned over to Finn's ear, stage-whispering conspiratorially as Finn glared at Simon. "Heck, chances are, he was countin' on you to do the same thing I did for him- take the fall for his crimes an' get off scott free."

Simon suddenly snapped out of his misery trance. "What?! No!" He struggled against his captor again, without much success. "I didn't- not since- Finn, he's talking bunk! I wouldn't!"

Despite Simon's protestations, this made a frightening amount of sense to Finn- why else would he not want to find Professor Coldstone, and scoff at the idea of hanging around with someone as cool as him?

He's probably tangled with him before, Finn thought bitterly. Or he's so well-known for being a crook that Professor Coldstone would recognize him immediately.

"Cryin' shame, that's what it is, "O'Malley continued. "Ah well, some folks just can't change their nature, no matter how hard they try!"

"I-" Simon didn't get a chance to finish, as Finn, seething, broke free from his captor's grasp and punched him in the face with a yell.

"I should've known!"

The force of the blow not only cracked the left lens of Simon's glasses, but sent both him and the rat-man holding his arms flying to the floor, papers from Simon's bag scattering as they toppled.

No, not papers, Finn realized. Letters? He picked one up.

To Professor Coldstone.

I found your letter in Princess Bubblegum's dimensional fridge thing! PB says I can use the fridge to write you back…

Finn remembered this letter. He'd been hanging out at Tree Trunks' house when he wrote it. It even still had the sticky patch on the back where Jake had splattered apple pie on it. Glancing around at the other letters, he recognized other identifying marks- the scorched corner from showing Flame Princess the third letter, the doodles he'd drawn on the sixth letter…

Unfortunately, before Finn could punch Simon further and question him about this (in that order), the ursine cat-man decided to ensure Finn didn't try to get away from him again. Grabbing the demonsblood sword he'd wrestled from him a minute before, he struck a blow to the back of the boy's head with the weapon's hilt.

Finn was unconscious before he hit the ground.

AN: (Search Youtube for Surströmming to see REAL people reeling from the stench of fermented fish. And to be very glad that we can't send smells over the internet yet.

I have no idea if dogs find the smell of that stuff repellant in real life, but if Jake is especially grossed out by Ice King's filthy clothes hamper due to a good sense of smell, I'm guessing that he'd have trouble with THE MOST PUTRID FOOD SMELL IN THE WORLD.)

(Search Youtube for Surströmming to see REAL people reeling from the stench of fermented fish. And to be very glad that we can't send smells over the internet yet. I have no idea if dogs find the smell of that stuff repellant in real life, but if Jake is especially grossed out by Ice King's filthy clothes hamper due to a good sense of smell, I'm guessing that he'd have trouble with THE MOST PUTRID FOOD SMELL IN THE WORLD.)