Chapter 4: The Pen is Mightier Than The Word

Flippy crept down the hall on all fours, ears perked. He peered around the corner and into the living room.

A little serpent-like creature was sitting on the coffee table, looking into the Book of the World's pages. It wasn't a snake, but a worm; its body was segmented and its complexion was a pale, washed out shade of pink. It also wore a little bowler hat, which Flippy admittedly thought was adorable.

The little bookworm had a silver quill wrapped in his tail. Something funny was on his mind since he snickered again and wrote something down on the page.

"That's where we'll go…" the Bookworm muttered.

Flippy crept up, reading what had just been written—Ignoring the rules of fire safety! The words glowed white, then back to black before shrinking to fit on the page.

The Bookworm was smoking a cigar half his size. He casually adjusted it in his mouth as he flipped pages with his tail, looking for another spot to write in.

"Ahem," Flippy uttered sternly.

The Bookworm crooked his head around, showing that he had a healthy five o' clock shadow and a matching pair of gray eyebrows. He grinned at the irritated bear looming over him. "Oy there, g'morning! Whaddup wit' you?"

The Bookworm flipped to an empty page and wrote something curious: How about you cop a cush for your tush?

Flippy staggered. It felt like something had taken control of his hips. He lurched back with a surprised yelp, landing squarely on a couch cushion that had suddenly appeared there. With a growl he drew his knife and lunged back up.

The Bookworm grinned, bolting down another message in the book. Flippy was a centimeter from stabbing the smug little bastard before the knife screeched to a stop. He suddenly couldn't move his arm.

So there were two main things Flippy figured out next. One, it was his whole body that he couldn't move. Two, his body was starting to move on its own…and there was nothing he could do about it.

His left hand seized his collar, flushing it and his dog tags aside. Simultaneously, his right hand moved the knife up and around, aligning the blade parallel to his neck. Flippy was too shocked to even breathe. He could only watch his own hand draw the knife closer until it was firmly pressed up against his throat.

Then, the tension controlling his body released. Flippy dropped to his hands and knees, wide-eyed and gasping.

The Bookworm cackled. "That's your first and last strike, kid. Don't interrupt the creative process."

Flippy backed up wearily. Well, he wasn't going to be antagonizing someone who could make him slit his own throat.

The Bookworm tapped the pages with his quill, causing his thoughts to bleed out on the paper. He apparently couldn't have been bothered with speaking anymore and held the book up for Flippy to read:

Now, listen up.

I'm the main man, the one with the biggest plan. Seriously, you'd be crying and begging for forgiveness if you saw my estate!

Butcha know what? This book here's told me all I need to know. The both of ya really thought you could slip out behind everyone's back and not be found out?

Now, 'cause I had'to go looking for it, the other folk zipped off without me! Finding an office floating around in space-time isn't a fun way for me to be spending my time, you know. This is why I'm workin' from home.

Yeah, your home. Tu casa es mi casa.

So don't go pushing it, kid, you've already dampened my day enough. I don't think I want you breathing down my neck in the meanwhile, so, I'll do something about that…like stopping your breathing altogether!

Flippy flattened his ears. "Uh oh…"

Furious, the Bookworm flipped to a new page and wrote: I said good morning, and now I'm saying g'night! Everyone give an encore for the dancing bear!

Flippy had a full second to read and process that before he turned into the writer's puppet again. He hopped up, pirouetted, and then flawlessly did the splits. He squeaked. So much pain.

The Bookworm cackled as he kept writing. Flippy was yanked back up to his feet, groaning when his body painfully bent over backwards.

Do your flip, but don't forget to trip!

The bear ended up rolling back and crashing into his side table, knocking a vase off balance. It fell and smashed across his head.

"Too unbearable?" the Bookworm asked. "Even with your right to bear arms, there's nothin' for you to do!"

Flippy staggered up, mildly dazed. "What?"

"Geddit? It's because you're...ah, whatever."

The Bookworm wrote something else down and held the book up for Flippy to see: You won't miss this joke! Use your bare hands to strangle yourself until you choke!

Flippy only had time to gasp. His hands flung up and clenched around his throat, squeezing tighter at an agonizingly slow pace. The next twenty seconds felt like eternity. The worm was doubled over, nearly losing his cigar as he laughed uproariously. Flippy fell to his knees, seeing more stars than he would've in the night sky. His eyes rolled back and he finally collapsed to his face.

The Bookworm took a minute to come down from his high, chortling as he went back to work. He made the huge mistake of not checking if the bear was out cold.

Flippy slowly raised his face, glaring up at the little bastard. He was very good at playing dead. He took several large and silent breaths as he crept up to all fours, readying himself to pounce.

The Bookworm noticed the danger all too late, shrieking as the bear came down on him like a hurricane.

"Put me down! Put me down, mack!" the Bookworm screamed, losing his hat as Flippy strung him upside down by his tail. "Don't do this! I've got contracts to fulfill!"

Flippy ignored him, taking a moment to look through the Book of the World. To his shock, new entries gleamed out from the page on every single section. Even his own.

"What have you done?!" Flippy cried.

"Don't hate the writer, hate the company. I'm not the one wanting to bear witness to your misery...alright, maybe I am. Just a little."

That was when it all came together in full for Flippy. Just from what he'd seen and learned, the fact that he was holding one of its writers was unbelievable. It fit, though, that The Bookworm was a fan of gallows humor. It was for that reason he'd made a thousand and one ways for unsuspecting and innocent animals to die in cruel and unusual deaths.

The Bookworm was trying to wiggle free, now looking a little nervous. "'Ey, what's with the smile, kid?" he noticed. "Look, it'll be hard to explain myself. Sue my bosses, sue 'em! I'm doing what I do to get paid! Oy vey, why'd the office have to pop up underneath your house...?"

Flippy tugged the cigar out of the worm's mouth, crushing it on the palm of his other hand.

"Okay, now you're makin' it personal! You're not gettin' me! You wouldn't know responsibility 'till you have authority over the written word! How about this? I'll give you some donuts and joe. It'll make you put this all behind you, I swear."

Flippy's smile widened. The Bookworm immediately turned vicious.

"Nah uh, what's so funny? What's so funny, punk? You had better NOT tell me…you got in my chair, opened my drawer, and ate my donuts?"

"All of them."

"ALL OF—"

The Bookworm bit his lip and turned red, boiling in rage. "BIG. MISTAKE," he thundered. "You're dead to me, hear?! DEAD TO ME! Where's my quill! Time for thirty dirt naps in a row, punk, you ready for it!? Where's my quill?!"

"Ah," Flippy mused, spotting the quill on the floor. His nervousness simmered down. It looked as though the Bookworm needed that particular thing to assume any sort of control over what was written.

Flippy picked up the quill and held it in front of the Bookworm's face. The worm tried swinging himself like a pendulum, trying to snatch the end of the quill in his teeth. Flippy toyed with him for awhile, always snatching the quill away at the last moment.

"Give—me—my—" The Bookworm snarled, only to freeze when Flippy snapped the quill in half. The wicked author spiraled into shock and looked close to having a stroke. "Y-You jus...you—little...!"

Flippy opened his mouth, sucked the worm up like a noodle, then swallowed.

After that, he pored over the pages of the book, deeply concerned. He knew the truth of it all, but disbelief still had him paralyzed. The Bookworm had gone through, authoring a new fate for each and everyone of them again. Just like that.

But if that was the case—

Flippy snapped out of it.

He slammed the book shut and barreled for his garage. All of his friends were in trouble again, and he was the only one who could stop disaster before it struck.