Gumby went to bed, his body full of clay and his mind mulling over all he had seen and told. He fell asleep, holding his blanket close. He drifted into a dream, well, more of a memory, really.

He couldn't see anything and felt crunched into a big ball of clay and tried with great effort to unroll himself. But no matter how hard he strained, he could not uncurl. Then he felt a gentle hand take up his ball and, with seeming effort, managed to flatten Gumby back out. Gumby tried to stand to find his eyes and mouth, but all he could manage was a bit of a wiggle.

Gumby heard an old man say, "Hold on, Gumbino, let me get your face."

Gumby relaxed, his body feeling stiff. He heard another piece of clay being torn and cut and carefully sculpted. Then something was pressed onto his face, and he could finally feel his face. He opened his eyes to a giant older man with a mustache and a balding head.

The old man said, "There you are, now try to pop out."

Gumby listened and managed to pull himself up from the clay, his body finally softening as he took note of the green lightly staining his fingers. The older man gave the top of Gumby's head a gentle rub with two fingers.

The old man smiled and said, "Welcome to the world, My little Gumby."

Gumby asked, "Who are you?"

The old man's fingers now had a bit of yellow, and he replied, "I'm Art Clokey. Me and my team have been working hard to give you and your kind life. You're among the first."

Gumby asked, "There are others like me?"

Art chuckled, "Of course! There's a whole world out there for you."

He put his hand out on the table.

Art said, "Come, I'll show you."

Gumby hopped on Art's hand, then sat on his palm, his legs dangling onto Art's arm, and Art gently cupped his hand to support Gumby's back. He very carefully carried Gumby from the molding table to a different table. On the other table was a house, a tree, and a familiar little red horse. The horse looked fit to bursting with excitement, trotting around in a circle and wagging its tail.

Gumby saw this, holding onto Art's thumb, and asked, "Who's that?"

Art gave a hearty laugh and said, "Oh, Gumbino. That's Pokey. He's your best friend."

Pokey said, "Come on, Gumby, Let's play!"

Gumby was unsure, but he took a deep breath and hopped off Art's hand onto the table.

Art playfully scolded, "Careful Gumby."

Gumby and Pokey then exchanged a smile.

Gumby said, "Hello, Pokey; good to see ya."

"Tag," Pokey said, leaning up, touching Gumby's body with one of his hooves, "You're it!"

Then he collapsed onto his four limbs and galloped away. Gumby chucked and gave chase. He felt time speeding up, the memory bleeding into a dream where no matter how fast Gumby ran or skated, Pokey was always five feet away from him. Then it bleeds into a different memory where they came to a thick forest that didn't resemble any of the trees he's seen before, and Pokey galloped right into it. Gumby felt his heart beating out of his chest; his guitar was on his back now, feeling heavy. He had stopped to take a breath. Fear and anxiety gripped his mind.

Pokey's voice shouted, "Hurry up, Gumby, their still chasing us."

Gumby shouted, "Slow down; at least stay in sight, Pokey."

He chased after Pokey, and Pokey's gallops were suddenly silenced. Gumby panicked and rushed towards Pokey.

Gumby shouted, "Let him go; leave us alone, you mutants!"

He gasped when he saw Pokey being held by an odd figure. Gumby couldn't really see them at first. They looked to be a grey blob—they where unaffected by the light around them. Gumby was horrified when the grey blob that caught Pokey blasted the poor pony with a greenish-white light. The life was drained entirely from his body through his eyes, and Pokey collapsed into a lump of clay. The Grey blob then transformed into a near-perfect replica of Pokey's shape. But it smoothed many knicks and lumps that made up his clay. He was now also unaffected by the light around him.

The Fake Pokey turned to Gumby and said in a semi-robotic voice, "Join me, Gumby. Live forever in CGI."

Gumby woke up screaming, "Noooooo!"

He sat up in his bed, tears pricking his eyes. Gumby breathed heavily; he was deeply disturbed. He felt his clay soften to comfort him.

"Did that Happen," Gumby pleaded with Clumpy, "Was Pokey drained of his clay and replaced by a Computer Generated Image?"

Clumpy sighed, "Unfortunately, yes. But it's not too late. I can restore him if we can find where his clay is."

Gumby said, "Okay, I'll have to let my folks know so we can search together. And by we, I mean me and you."

At Breakfast, Gumby filled his family in on what was happening and his plan. They gave a worried look.

Gumba asked, "Are you sure you want to do that?"

Gumbo noted, "It could be dangerous."

Gumby said, "Pokey has been my best friend since I can remember. I have to do what I can to get him back home."

Minga asked, "Can I help? You can't just be by yourself with your imaginary friend."

Gumba snapped, "Oh no, You're staying home. It's too dangerous for a little girl."

Gumby quickly finished his food and set out to find his friend.