Hey, Mr. Skits

Morton's POV:

It was morning when Morton's last torch in his bundle finally burnt out. With a sigh, he bent down and used his knife and a spare rock to light them again, then continued on. Eventually, he came to a stop, because the ground had stopped as well.

Morton stood at the edge of a giant plateau that was the mesa and mountains he and Sr. had lived in for all his life, and half of Sr.'s. Below him was a sprawling grassland with ridges and hills and batches of bushes and sunflowers. The yellowish grass swayed gently in the breeze that coursed through the land, and the early sun gave the grassland a warm, orangish hue. To Morton it looked like paradise.

"IMAGINE IF SR. HAD FOUND THIS AND LIVED HERE INSTEAD…" Morton pondered, thinking of his alternate life in the grasslands. No harsh red sandstorms and deep pits and scorpions and lava bursting up, no severe lifelong hardships…maybe in this environment, Claudie wouldn't have died birthing Morton and Kevin; maybe Kevin would have survived.

But then Morton considered the thought that he may not have learned as many valuable life lessons, like how to eat cacti and farm in harsh environments with little water. He wouldn't have been able to chase tumbleweeds and find the particular one with the yellow gem. At least, he thought. He'd never know, though. He was just speculating.

"HOW DO I GET DOWN THERE, THOUGH?" Morton asked himself. He looked to his left, and then to his right. There! A strange hole in the ground, just big enough for Morton to fit through.

"AH-HAH! TAKE THAT!" he said to nothing in particular. He dashed and then skidded to a stop in front of the hole to give it a closer look. It was a hole in the top of a deep green cylinder, he realized, a cylinder that was poking from the ground. Morton had never seen a cylinder before, only a few twigs that were almost the shape of a cylinder and thus Sr. called them cylinders, so he was fascinated. And Sr. had never seen anything about deep green cylinders in the ground.

Morton put his hands on the rim of the cylinder and squinted down the hole. He only saw darkness, though, which gave him a little spook.

That doesn't look that safe…should I look somewhere—

Morton thought he saw a mouth on the other side of the cylinder's rim. Morton looked up to see a shadowy beast staring at him at eye level. It looked a bit like the beast from the night before that had chased him, but it was small, with two transparent eyes in the front of its head and had a fanged underbite jaw sticking out, with two T. Rex-like arms and a body like a slug. The whole thing was made of shadow, though, and once Morton got a good look at it he heard a little skittering sound from it. Morton yelped and lost his balance and fell forward, and in a seconds his big toenails had disappeared through down the hole, and he was spiraling through darkness.

Morton held his breath as he zoomed through the hole. He felt like he was going extremely fast but could only see green surrounding him and in front, black. Wind rushed through his hair and past his sides, and he felt nauseous. Suddenly, he barfed to the side, and the stuff flew right past him, which made him feel better, even though he doomed the next person to fall down here.

THOOMP.

Morton shot out of the green pipe and ate dirt as he slid to a stop in a muddy puddle of water. Dazed, Morton waited a whole minute for himself to get a grasp on reality again, and then he stood up. Mud dripped down his front, and he brushed some bits of grass that had stuck to him. He looked back at the cylinder. Inscribed in it were the words: Warp Pipe, Gecko Field #4. But since Morton didn't know how to read or write, it looked like nonsense to him, and so he dismissed it.

Morton felt the grass sway in between his claws as he strode through the grassland. Thoughts rushed through him, like What was that shadow thing? Where does this place lead, Is it safe here?, and Where is father?

Then one of his questions was answered. He heard something like a skittering sound, and in the distance he saw the shadow thing from the Warp Pipe on a hill, watching him in broad daylight.

Morton clutched his head and swayed back and forth for a moment. His head hurt sharply, but soon the pain abated. So did the whispers that had still plagued him even after killing the chair-legged beast from last night.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, EH?" Morton asked the thing at the top of the hill. He moved forward slowly, letting his arms collapse to his side. "ARE YOU GONNA TRY AND KILL ME LIKE THE OTHER SHADOWY THINGIES? OR ARE 'YA AIN'T?"

The thing's eyes darted around. Morton hesitated, and so did it. They locked gazes and just stood there. Then it imploded into a little dark ball, shot up into the air, and evaporated within seconds. It had teleported magically.

"CAN I DO THAT?" Morton asked himself. He jumped into his shell, being in the air for a moment before his shell hit the ground, and then he put out his arms and legs and pushed, thinking UP UP BECOME SHADOW BALL FLY UP UP!

THUMP.

Morton hit the ground. He'd only gone a bit more than a foot in the air. Thinking of nothing else to do, he tried the stunt a few more times until his soft underbelly was throbbing and he was tired. He got out of his shell and surveyed the area. No shadow thing looking at him. Just grass, grass, grass…and a lake.

A lake! Duh, I need some water anyways…to survive…and when there is water, food always follows, like Sr. says!

Morton pushed through some tall grass to get to the lake. It looked brown and dirty, but the yellow grass under the sun made the lake shimmer and glow a bit. The banks were made of mud and silt and pebbles, and Morton plopped down and rinsed his toes in the water. It felt cool and relaxing, and he closed his eyes and laid back, taking a breather. If only Sr. was here…

"Moo."

Morton sat up. What was that sound? There, on the other side of the lake, were three cows. One white-and-black, one brown, and one gray-and-white. Morton had never seen cows before either, or the sounds they made, which were very strange to him. First shadow monsters, then green cylinders that move me, then these? This is so weird! Then Morton remembered that Sr. had described cows to him one time, about them being in villages, along with…sheep, he had said?

Morton licked his lips before putting a finger to his mouth—his standard deep thinking pose. After a bit, he opened his eyes, got up, and used his knife to get some cut grass pieces. The cows watched Morton work as they drank with wonder. Morton had never seen cows before, and no cow has ever seen Morton before either.

Before long, Morton had fancied a cup made of grass and sticks and roots packed together with mud. After he filled up the cup with water, he set the cup down, making sure it was stuck deep into the silt and mud so that it wouldn't tip over.

"NOW IS DA TIME TO WORK!" Morton told himself.

First Morton cleared out a wide circle of grass, moving it all to one side. He took some stones, sticks, and dry grass and made a blazing campfire surrounded by stones. Next, he got some thick strands of grass together and poked holes in them before making another cup like the one he made earlier. Then, he put the empty cup under the cup filled with water, then put the grass with holes under the cup like a strainer and poured, getting the water to empty into the new cup, and the gunk and mud from the lake to stay in the old one. Finally, he put the old cup and strainer aside with some spare cut grass before holding the new water-filled cup over the bonfire, letting it boil. His arm eventually got too tired, though, so then he just set the cup next to the fire on a stone.

Morton brushed aside the old cup and strainer and then laid his head on the cut grass he'd set aside, pushing it together like a pillow. He was tired, but he was stuck. He could go back through the Warp Pipe and back through the mesa-prairie to find Sr., but he didn't know where Sr. was now, and what the Dragonfly, which he called "the big green bug beast," had done to him. Morton also knew he could go on through the grassland, and maybe he'd come back to society, after all this time. It'd be his dream, but what about Sr.? What would the purpose of life be if there wasn't someone to make sure he was doing well? Someone to talk to? Someone to congratulate him?

Morton began to sniffle and cry, and climbed into his shell after turning over, so his shell spikes were up—a not-very-good-looking meal for any potential predators. The black substance and yellow gem now both poked his back since they were in his shell, but he really didn't care. He just closed his eyes and cried in the darkness of his shell. His protection, his armor, his safety. It had saved him from death before, and he knew it would again.

I could just stay right here, he thought, and wait for Sr. I might live out the rest of my days alone like this, then, and if that's the case, well, that's stupid. So chances are, if I want a purpose, I should continue on. Look for a village. Maybe there I could make some friends, get some equipment or something…then I could find my father.

Yes. That's what I'll do.

Morton exited his shell. When he did though, in front of him, only partially blocking his fire from view because it was transparent, was the slug-like lower body of the shadow thing from the Warp Pipe and the hill. Morton looked up to its arms and jaw and eyes, all moving up and down ambiently as it stood there, just watching him.

"ARE YOU GONNA HURT ME, THING?" Morton asked, taking out his knife. He poked the shadow with it, but his knife just phased through it. Morton sighed and put his knife back in his pocket, but still kept an eye on the thing as he sat in a hunched position, like a frog would on a lily pad.

The shadow thing bobbed up and down in place, doing nothing but that.

"HMMM..." Morton rubbed his chin before taking out the yellow gem, fidgeting with it to rein in his anxiety. "IF YA WANNA KEEP ON SHOWIN' UP, DHEN I SHOULD CALL YA SOMETHIN', YEAH? SO WHAT?"

The thing made a skittering sound.

"OH!" an idea came in his head. "SKITTER, SKIT-SKIT-SKIT OR WHATEVER SOUND YA MAKE? YA, MAYBE I'LL CALL YOU…SKITS. NAH, OR…MR. SKITS! YEAH, MR. SKITS!"

Mr. Skits teleported away again.

"IS THAT A YES…?"

Nothing happened the following night. Morton just stayed by the fire, slept for a few hours, but mostly kept the fire going and had his knife ready, if something decided to come attack him. He thought he saw Mr. Skits a few times in the darkness that night, but it might have just been in his head. When the sun rose that next day, Morton was hungry and decided to go hunting for food. Before he did that, he did the same process as yesterday with filling a cup with water, filtering it, and setting it beside the fire to boil. Once the water was at the fire, though, Morton set off.

The cows had disappeared, and Morton hadn't really been considering attacking them because he didn't have a good approach in mind. Instead, he found something else: rabbits.

He'd seen rabbits in the desert mesa before, and they always were black or sandy-tan or brown. This one was white, though, which Morton thought was peculiar but dismissed the thought. He slowly, silently approached his to-be meal, staying low to the ground. His girth was hard to hide, but the grass and wind blowing at him helped conceal his position. Then he struck with a cry, jumping towards the rabbit and spinning onto his back so that his shell spikes were what hit the ground. Once he finished that, he plucked the dead rabbit off his back and returned to his campsite.

As Morton hunted more rabbits throughout the ensuing day, passing by cows and wondering when he should set off to find a village, he didn't realize he was still being watched by Mr. Skits. The shadow creature would just watch Morton from in a bush or some grass, atop a hill, or even from the Warp Pipe if Morton was hunting near there. It would teleport away when it felt the need, but sometimes, when Morton had eaten and was feeling great, he turned invisible to Mr. Skits. The whole time, though, even when the next night arrived, Mr. Skits wouldn't hurt Morton. That wasn't what it was here for. No. Something else.

The next morning came without trouble, and that was when Morton decided to venture forth. He left the campfire smoking, making sure that the stones around it would really contain it, and then set off, carrying a cup of boiled water in each hand and a cooked rabbit in his shell, along with the black substance and the yellow gem. He passed the lake and took one look back at the Warp Pipe before continuing onwards.

The grassland went on for what looked like forever in Morton's eyes, but to Morton that meant, with his knife and some stones handy, he could make a fire and plop down to rest for the night whenever he needed. So, he continued on, snacking on his cooked rabbit along the way, and eventually rested when the night arrived once again.

He cut down some grass and got another campfire surrounded with stones going, setting his water cups down by the fire. Then, he finished off his cooked rabbit before getting in a comfortable position to rest. He, with his knife, waited until it was almost midnight before he tried to go to sleep, wanting to limit the time he'd have his guard down. He'd only seen rabbits, cows, bugs, and a lizard in the grassland, besides Mr. Skits popping up occasionally, though a lot more times than Morton would ever know, but Morton still wanted to be careful if anything hostile did dare show itself to him.

"Grrrargh…"

Morton instantly got to his feet at that sound. He looked all around him, pointing his knife every which way until he saw the thing that had groaned. It was a blocky green humanoid with rotting flesh, soulless black eye sockets, and outstretched arms with black claws that glittered because of the campfire. Its reddish, toothless mouth yawned open as it slowly shambled towards Morton, picking up one foot at a time—feet that had gray boots on, with indigo slacks and a cerulean shirt T-shirt. The beast smelled awful, and everything it touched was diseased with its rotting stench. The zombie groaned again as it looked past the fire and made eye contact with Morton.

"WHAT ARE YOU?" Morton asked, sweating with fear.

The zombie just kept on coming.

Morton backed up a little bit. The zombie came closer. Morton's vision began to desaturate again, and the edges of it blurred and shook.

Not again, not again! Morton thought over and over.

The zombie entered Morton's circle of light. It snarled at him as the two went in a circle on parallel sides of the fire, facing each other. Thinking fast, Morton put his knife away, grabbed a stick from the ground and thrust it over the flames. It ignited, and the zombie, who had seized the opportunity to come around the fire to Morton, was then stabbed in the chest with the flaming stick. The zombie stumbled backwards with a deep-throated gurgle, and then Morton stabbed it a few times with his knife before turning around and ramming the zombie with his shell. The zombie was thrown backwards, its arms and legs splayed out as it fell to the ground like a ragdoll, crashing through the grass. When Morton turned to face it again, it was in a deformed state with dark punctures and flames sweeping through its broken form. The flames then jumped to the nearby grass, and Morton, alarmed, put away his knife, grabbed his cups of water, and doused the flames until they were just smoke and ashes, like the zombie. The only intact bit of the zombie that was left was a chunk of dark orange flesh that was poking from the ashes, with moldy green splotches on it, like rotted jerky.

The sight made Morton's stomach twist a bit, so he looked away from it, pondering what in the world he just killed.

"Grrrurng…"

A second zombie approached Morton with surprising speed and agility. Morton yelped and retread back a bit, dropping the cups into the fire, for this zombie had much lighter green skin, with a torn, bloodstained brown shirt, wild red eyes, crazy black hair, and legs of bones. Morton took out his knife and slashed at the zombie a few times, but only hit it once since he was too scared of it and was keeping his distance. He looked for another stick to roast this zombie with, but he didn't see any. He slashed at it again, and got closer to take a few more chunks out of it.

With a burst of energy, Morton uppercutted the zombie and lobbed its head off! The headless trunk of the undead monster swayed left and right for a bit before collapsing in a heap like toy building blocks, a few bone shards flying out and stopping at Morton's feet. Morton squeaked, proud with his strength and confidence, and also in a bit of terror for seeing a disembodied zombie's head sail into the darkness and land with a SPLAT is obviously a bit unnerving.

Morton looked down at the bone shards before him and scooped them up. He checked to see if there was any blood or flesh or gunk on them, and when there wasn't anything, Morton dropped them in his shell, making a satisfying clinking sound as they hit the yellow gem on their way inside.

But the night still wasn't done playing with Morton. As Morton was settling down to recollect his thoughts, the shadow hand from his first night alone slithered from between the stalks of the bushes and grass around Morton, making its way for his fire.

"NO YA DON'T, SHADOW HAND!" Morton cried, running at the monster. Morton jumped onto the hand, and the monster backed up. Morton stomped after the hand, and it kept on retreating farther and farther back until it was indistinguishable from the darkness, where it faded away. Morton then realized he had gotten several yards away from his campfire's light, so he started back towards it.

Suddenly, a zombie like the one Morton just beheaded ran in front of him. This one had a bleeding, armless shoulder, for in the zombie's other hand was its other arm. It swung the grotesque weapon at Morton, barely missing his face as Morton hopped backwards. The zombie charged, swinging its arm around, and Morton ran from it, going back into the darkness. In the distance, Morton saw two blocky, blue-shirt, purple-pant wearing zombies like the first he encountered approaching, one with a wooden shovel in hand. As Morton veered right to avoid the incoming zombies, he thought he saw some more glowing pairs of eyes in the darkness, along with Mr. Skits again.

"NOOOOO!" Morton whimpered, running up a hill with an oak tree on top of it. Morton hid behind the tree, hearing the gurgles and growls of the zombies as they rushed through the grassland. Morton shut his eyes and tried to take deep breaths, putting his hand over his heart.

It's gonna be okay. I've been in a pinch before, and I will survive this one, too, and every one after that. But how? I can't climb this tree—Morton had seen and climbed trees in the mesa before, but not many—at least I think. He looked up. Yeah, the first branch is like, double my height. He glanced at his claws. Or maybe, I can…

Morton got punched in the side of the head, and he stumbled. He glanced behind him to see that he'd been punched with the hand of the arm-wielding zombie's broken arm—which is a lot to say at once. He tasted his blood again, and he drew his knife, eyeing the broken arm's elbow.

If I could cut that, then the zombie would lose a bunch of range at once…he thought.

Morton felt a warm, stinky breath on his neck, and he ducked and rolled to dodge the claws of one of the blocky zombies. He got into his shell and spun away from the whole predicament, but all of the bumps on the ground, along with the sticks and stones and grass, slowed him down greatly and scraped his underbelly. He got out of his shell, hearing the zombies right behind him, and began to run, but then bonked into what looked like a very thick tuft of grass. He backed up to see he had run into a creature that was two-thirds of Morton's height, with a rectangular body, cubic head, and four small, stubby feet. The creature had a mottled skin with shades of black, white, and light- and dark-green, and two big, black eyes with a curved mouth like a jack-o'-lantern.

The monstrosity hissed, little particles of gunpowder flying from its mouth as it ballooned, glowing brighter and brighter until it was entirely white. Morton had already started running the moment the thing had begun to hiss, and he was thankful he did, too, for moments later an explosion shook the grassland. Morton was knocked off his feet, and dirt and pebbles rained over him. Morton stayed pressed to the ground for a few seconds after the debris stopped falling, and once he got up with a grunt he saw a gaping hole in the ground, smoke rising from the center. Bits of the land that had just been there littered his surroundings, and so did the remains of the zombies that had been chasing him. Pieces of burning leaves and grass fluttered down around him, too. Taking a few strained breaths, feeling alert and exasperated after all that had happened that night, he made his way back to his campsite to find that his fire had been halfway extinguished.

"MUST'VE BEEN THOSE DARNED SHADOW HANDS," Morton told himself, dropping some cut grass into the fire to bring it back to health. There were no more eyes in the darkness, and the edges of his vision were back to normal, but there was still a bit of desaturation to his sight, and for the rest of the night, Mr. Skits watched him from a distance.

New references to games in this chapter:

31. The grassland described is like Minecraft's Savanna biome

32. The deep green cylinder Morton found was a Warp Pipe from Mario

33. The shadow creature Morton met and named in this chapter is actually Mr. Skits from Don't Starve; the grassland being called Gecko Field is a reference to the Grass Geckos of Don't Starve too

34. Morton's "thinking pose" is referencing one of his animations in Paper Mario: Color Splash

35. The texture of the rabbits Morton thought of and caught are all from Minecraft

36. The blocky zombies are from Minecraft, and the lighter-skinned ones are from Terraria; in Terraria, some zombies also wield their arms like the one Morton encountered

37. The explosive creature that destroyed the zombies was Minecraft's iconic Creeper

38. The look of the bone shards Morton got are from Don't Starve, and so is the wording of "cut grass" specifically being used for collected grass

39. The orange chunk dropped by the first zombie was Rotten Flesh from Minecraft