Prologue: What's Written is What's Law

It was a very peaceful and sunny morning in the neighborhood, and that was because no one had suffered a tragic accident and/or died horribly yet.

At the moment, the one-and-only resident moose, Lumpy, was trying to figure out how to set up his new grill. For some reason he decided that the street curb was the perfect place do to this.

"Hmmm..." Lumpy mused. Both of his eyes were slightly unfocused as his pea brain worked overtime to figure out the solution. The grill was upside down on the sidewalk. He had a bag of charcoal and lighter fluid nearby. Shouldn't there have been a fire by now? Lumpy stroked his chin, figuring that something was missing but couldn't place what it was.

SCREEEECH!

Vroom vroom!

In the distance a miniature fire truck swerved around the corner, careening down the sidewalk at a speed that would make a racetrack driver proud. Laughing, the beige bear cub behind the wheel stood up in his seat, waving his little paws in the air.

Lumpy glanced around, quickly getting out of the way before he got turned into a venison speed bump. He flinched when the little truck hit his grill and flipped it upright. The moose was struck with inspiration. Suddenly, the idea of putting charcoal in the grill seemed to make sense!

Then what? Lumpy crossed his arms, squinting. Today was a day where he'd woken up a little dumber than usual.

Just a door down, Flippy was in the middle of fetching his mail. He was oblivious to all else as he glared at the payment reminder in his hands. Paying student loans; it was one of those wars he'd be fighting until the day he died or made his last paycheck.

The bear swiveled an ear sideways, then jerked his head over. All he saw was a red blur hurtling his way.

Flippy quickly leapt onto his mailbox before he got mowed over, cautiously watching Cub fly off into the distance. He exhaled in relief. It was way too early in the morning for him to be thinking about hospital bills and health insurance.

Anyway, it was time for him to get to work. He hopped down and went to prop his front door open.

Today, Flippy was planning on cleaning out his basement. He'd been a bit too careless with what he had stored in there over time. Days earlier, he'd almost gotten flattened by a tuba he never remembered buying.

Presently, he opened the door to the basement, creating a slight draft that disturbed clusters of loose dust. Why would he even have a tuba, he thought, hopping down the stairs. The only instrument he knew how to play was the trumpet.

He switched on his flashlight. The beam of light sputtered lazily and he had to smack the thing several times in his hand until it stayed on. The dust was abysmal and he sneezed himself off the last step. The bear plodded through the musty darkness with caution, maneuvering between stacks of long-forgotten things. He eventually stopped with a short sigh, putting his hands on his hips as he looked around.

He had no idea where to start. But, since he'd promised to award himself with a meat lover's pizza when he finished, he grabbed the nearest thing and dug his heels in.

A few hours later...

Flippy grunted as he drug yet another box of junk out the front door. He glanced up, reading the position of the sun in the sky. It was definitely time for a break but he was very stubborn when it came to working. He was nearly done, so he figured he may as well finish.

As Flippy set the garbage by the curbside, someone called out to him.

"Hey, there!" It was Lumpy, waving from the fence line. He seemed very excited about something. Flippy waved back but continued to head inside, set on finishing the job without any distractions.

The moose wasn't having it. Lumpy pushed out a section of the fence, stepped through, then shut it behind himself like a door. He ran over and handed Flippy a slip of paper.

Confused, the bear looked down at it before flipping it right side up. It was an invitation to a barbeque. It was a pretty late notice, considering it was scheduled for that night.

"Oh, um..." Flippy rubbed the back of his head. As a homebody, he'd planned to spend that night unwinding with a book and pizza he could eat in reverse. It was hard to refuse with Lumpy's pleading face, though. Flippy cracked a weary smile and said, "Okay."

"Yeh-hoo!" The moose jumped for joy then swiped his little neighbor up into a hug.

Flippy stiffened. He wasn't too fond of physical contact and with how rough Lumpy was, it felt like he was stuck in a trap. As Lumpy yapped about all the fun and festivities, Flippy wiggled free and snuck off. He knew the moose would never notice he left and would eventually go back to doing whatever he'd been doing.

Back in his basement Flippy looked around contently, pleased with how much roomier it was. He had already put a new light bulb in, so he only needed to sweep. He pulled a broom and began herding masses of dust, dirt, and other buildup into piles, humming as he worked.

Minutes later, he was in the middle of daydreaming when his foot caught on something. Flippy stumbled to the ground and it went dark.

Confused, he rolled to his back, pushing his beret out of his eyes. He didn't see what he had tripped over until he put his face very close to the ground and squinted. There was a thin edge in the floor around twelve inches long. When he traced it with a finger he found that it was only one side of a square foot of space.

Not only had he built his house with his own bear hands, he'd dug out the space for his basement and knew every detail down to the inch. He knew he hadn't built any hatch, or whatever it was he had found. Unless…

Flippy's heart rate shot up in a blink. His eyes trembled and spaced out.

Had someone broken in and was secretly living in a crawlspace underneath his house? Was it a spy, trying to gather intelligence on him?

Flippy scanned around his basement with a wide and vacant stare. There were no longer any potential hiding spots. He'd specifically made sure everything was flush against the wall to prevent that.

His imagination could get a little crazy. Once his fur had settled and he rationalized no one was about to leap out and ambush him, Flippy dropped to his front. For the next half hour he low crawled through his basement, patting down every single inch of ground for any more oddities. He didn't find anything else but that just fed his paranoia in a different way.

Frowning, Flippy circled the odd spot on the floor, alternating between walking upright and on all fours every so often. His stomach began growling but he ignored it. He wasn't going to be taking any breaks until he figured out what this was.

He dug and scratched at the edges of the square. It didn't shift or act like a hatch, nor did it have hinges. It was just an odd spot in what he thought had been a smooth and uniform concrete floor. It was barely, barely offset from the ground and he was surprised he'd tripped over it in the first place. Flippy found a tape measure, confirming that it was in the exact center of his basement. There were many perfections at notice here, and he knew they didn't happen by random circumstance.

The light flickered. Flippy looked up cautiously, hoping the fifty-cent store brand of bulb wasn't already about to go tits up. He took a small step forward and hitched sharply, sinking down to the right. Bristling, Flippy looked at the floor. He'd stepped square in the center of the square, and now his foot was stuck ankle-deep in the ground.

He had no time to wonder what the heck had happened before reality shattered underneath him. Flippy dropped out of one world into another—screaming, he plummeted into a bright, white nothingness with no edges, no boundaries, and no discernable end.

For fifteen to twenty seconds he fell, giving him plenty of time for him to ponder where it all went wrong and to say his prayers.

SMASH!

"OOF!" Flippy thudded squarely onto his back, surrounded by stark white, glass-like shards.

He gingerly sat up, shocked as he patted himself down. Forget him having a tough hide, he was amazed he hadn't exploded into a million bear pieces from a landing like that. Nothing even felt broken.

He glanced up, did a double take, and then balked. He hoped he was dreaming. If not, it meant he'd accidentally taken too much of his medication earlier and was on a bad trip.

It looked like he'd fallen into someone's office! It was a modest 12 x 15 space with woolen carpeting, beveled wood paneling, and plenty of furnishing which, while it wasn't cluttered, caused the room to be on the boundary between 'cozy' and 'overfilled with expensive amenities'.

Flippy stood and revolved on the spot, gaping. Whoever owned this place must have been big, at least someone around Lumpy's size. The bright shards at his feet glittered and faded away like dying stars.

On the east wall was a blazing fireplace. Flippy got close enough to peer in the firebox, where a single stick of wood the thickness and length of his arm somehow gave birth to hearty flames. He had to wonder where the smoke and emissions were being redirected since it was an open fireplace with no chimney, but he wasn't asphyxiating from CO2 poisoning so he didn't think too hard about it.

Three-fourths of the south wall was occupied by a strip of marbled countertop that towered over his head. Flippy climbed up, finding a small pot of sugar and plenty of creamer. There was a faint outline on the wall where a coffee machine may've previously been. A piece of folded printer paper with a hastily typed out message was taped on the countertop:

DanG thing's broked all the way1 I'm rushing out to get a new one, this time I;m getting one that uses pids!

- R

Flippy shook his head in pity. Someone really needed an editor even if it was for a sentence or two. He jumped straight from the counter and onto the sofa along the west wall. Next to it was an enormous double-door chrome refrigerator that Flippy had to restrain himself from opening. It had to have been stacked up with a ton of food.

A writer's desk, much longer than it was wide, fit snugly along the entire length of the north wall. Four chairs of unique design were pushed in at it.

The first, the smallest, was the only one Flippy could get in without needing to jump. Not that he would want to, since it was a gaudy red-and-black plastic office chair that looked like it'd give him hemorrhoids just after a minute of sitting in it.

The second chair was easier on the eyes, upholstered in fawn-colored polyester. It was plain looking but comfortable, and out of the four best complimented the style of the desk.

The third chair was of the simplest build with its foldable wooden frame and silver nylon fabric, but surely pleasant to lounge in for hours whether awake or asleep. Flippy thought it looked just like a movie director's chair.

The last chair, the largest, was made of quality leather that still seemed a day old, and was colored a rich gold.

And then, it was at that point Flippy noticed something obscenely ridiculous: there was no door.

Wide-eyed, he scanned all four walls again just to make sure he wasn't overlooking it. But there really was no door. He was trapped. He swallowed his feelings of panic down, spotting the pair of satin drapes behind the couch. A window!

Flippy hurtled over, flinging the drapes apart. Behind them was a bare wall with another poorly typed note taped to it.

took the window after our last move! Sorry Stan, you're gonna have to huff and puff somewhere else - you keep choking us out, old man! Come fight me if you gotta problem, that is if you think you can get to my end of the dek w/o getting lost.

lmfao

- R

Flippy read that at least two more times before snapping, tearing the drapes down and mangling them before throwing them into the fire.

He found the spot where he had fallen in, desperately trying to gauge if he could somehow get back up. Not only was it too tall a height, there was little distinction between the cream-colored ceiling and the white void he'd fallen through. On top of that there were no signs of his basement.

Flippy's irises trembled. He sank to his knees, gripping the carpet tightly. He was trapped in an office floating in a white void. It was one of the few fates worse than death, honestly.

He heaved through his clenched teeth. How did any of this make sense? He'd fallen through reality and couldn't get back up—what was going to happen next? Was he really stuck? Did he have to make another hole in the floor, then continue falling until he cycled around and fell through the roof of his house? How would that work? How did any of it work?

His breathing got deeper and slower, until he completely wilted with a heavy sigh. He had to calm himself down. He began to think more and rationalize, convincing himself that this wasn't some sort of elaborate trick of the enemy to get him stuck in some modern torture chamber.

But what could he do?

"Hmmph..."

Flippy stood on the desk with his arms folded, frowning up at the hole in the ceiling. He had spent the last hour poking around every nook and cranny in the room, but wasn't any closer to discovering a way out.

His belly grumbled. Flippy sighed at the bother of it all and hopped to the floor.

There was a waste bin underneath the desk. He knocked it over and began to rummage through the trash, but it was all just paper waste and eraser shavings. When Flippy pulled his hand back he took a couple of sticky notes with him.

The first read,

Hey! Mind the AC the next time, will ya, Man? You've got the rest of us chillin' a little too hard!

- J. C

Disinterested, Flippy flicked the note back into the bin and read the other, which was in cursive and likely authored by a different hand:

"Stan, the humans sound like they're planning some sort of revival. It's likely all rubbish. I won't believe it now, but I'll toss this note the day I get proof. Maybe then Rookie will stop crying about being stiffed for opportunity. Or not! I think he'll just keep looking for reasons to prove himself as relevant.

By the way…I snuck a sample out of your collection when you were hogging the loo yesterday. Maybe you shouldn't schedule lunch breaks so late in the day!

- I'm Just Kidding!

Flippy reread the note, stuck on the only word he had never heard before.

"Hoo…manz?" he muttered. Whatever that was sounded like some sort of disease or invasive species to him. He shrugged, crumpling the note up and tossing it away before going to check out the refrigerator.

The only thing inside was a gallon sized bucket of red liquid. He began to drool, thinking that it was blood, until the smell hit him. He wrinkled up his nose. That wasn't blood. It smelled like—

Irate, Flippy slammed the door shut. What freak kept paint in the refrigerator? He climbed up and opened the freezer. It was filled with cases of AA batteries and several ink cartridges. He groaned and decided to check the desk drawers next, dragging his feet through the carpet as he trailed back over.

Similar to how there were four chairs, there were four drawers. When Flippy opened the first drawer next to the red-and-black chair, he found a ton of manilla file folders. He was bored so he picked one and opened it.

"Wh—OH!" Flippy covered his mouth. He quickly shut the folder and tossed it back in the drawer like it was covered in leprosy, blushing. That was it for his eyes; he didn't want to take his chances with the other folders there.

He moved onto the second drawer and only found an inverted top hat that held five different kinds of flowers. He picked up the daisy, startled when it wriggled in his hand and spontaneously morphed into a fuzzy pink caterpillar. The bug leapt up and kissed him on the nose.

Flippy swatted it off, mortified. When the caterpillar landed back in the hat it stiffened and transformed back into a daisy. Well, he couldn't just move on without seeing what the others did.

The tulip turned into a neon blue rubber duck that roared like a lion when he squeezed it. The rose turned into a rusty waffle iron which sadly, had no waffle in it. The chrysanthemum turned into a single ivory chopstick worth thousands according to its merchandise tag, and the poppy turned into a tiny porcelain figure of a pirouetting palomino in a pink tutu.

All of that was weird, but he must've been getting desensitized because he could only think about what abominations waited him in the next drawer. Surprisingly, it had a normal abundance of office supplies along with an old-fashioned movie projector. The weird part was that the drawer was filled to the top with water, but when Flippy reached in to touch the things inside, they felt bone-dry. The drawer lining was black with a starry pattern, like a fuzzy night sky. Wherever Flippy touched the lining the stars would suddenly move, congregating and circling around the tip of his finger. When he let off they would slowly travel back to their original positions and freeze again. He forgot that he was technically reaching into water since he didn't feel any resistance, yet when he pulled his arm out it was completely drenched.

Flippy was beginning to wonder if he'd starve to death. He opened the fourth and last drawer halfway before drooping in disappointment. Just like the first it only had file folders.

His stomach barked and growled. He was about to shut the drawer when he paused. His eye had caught the first folder's tab. Apple Fritter, it read.

The next tab was labeled, Berliner. Flippy quirked his brow, thinking that sounded like something he'd heard of when overseas. The third tab was labeled Cake.

Flippy was too confused and curious to not investigate further. He pondered for a moment, noting that the folders were arranged alphabetically, and reached into the G folder labeled Glazed. He turned his head away just in case. He didn't want to have his eyes violated again.

His nose twitched. Something smelled deliciously sweet. Amazed, Flippy looked around and discovered he'd pulled out a chocolate glazed donut!

He immediately crammed it in his mouth. His ears perked as he quickly caught on to the bizarre situation and he pulled open the M folder labeled Maple Bar. He whipped out a sizable specimen and stuffed it into his already full cheeks.

He couldn't believe it. Most of what he was seeing were kinds of donuts he'd never even heard of before: warm Kitchener buns, the odd but flavorful Oliebollen, a dozen little Timbits, and the thick, doughy Vitumbuwa. Then there were his own guilty pleasures like the simple chocolate glazed, elephant ears, and jelly filled (with raspberry flavoring, of course).

Flippy tossed the folders over his shoulder as soon as he was done gobbling up their contents. More importantly, he had neglected to see the sticky note posted on front of the drawer:

This is my priceless and sadly unfinished donut collection.

COLLECTION!

DO. NOT. EAT.

Not even a nibble on a single one! It's taken me a total of 100 years to cache them, and that's WITH the use of time and space travel. Those sort of privileges don't come around as easy as royalty checks.

Since you're reading this, stop and consider your life choices up to this point.

Because if I find out you've been snooping, and I will—

You and I will have a nice chat face-to-face just to kick things off. I'm not going to waste ink giving any more details of what would follow. Surely you couldn't be that stupid to want to know, right?

Right. Thank you for understanding.

NOW.

GO. AWAY.

- The Man