NetherWorld by Daniel Pagan (each kindness read aloud .TXT) 📕

searched for the source of this crickety creaking. With a lightning fast tongue, the frog took aim at some of the bugs hovering around Nick.
“ReadMe. ReadMe,” repeated the creature as Nick turned toward the source of the odd creaking. Noticing the hungry frog, most the insects shot off to avoid his sticky tongue.
Finding the robotic toad resting on a dead black leaf, Nick approached the vocal amphibian.
“What do we have here? Thank you mister frog for scaring the bugs away,” said Nick in the same baby talk he used when addressing his dog back on Karbonon. He knelt down to get a closer look. Nick was rather taken with sugary cute green toad. Extending a finger to pet it on the head, he babbled baby talk in a hushed voice. The frog pulled back and lashed out his tongue; slapping Nick squarely across the face. With a loud smack, the sandpaper tongue knocked him into the slimy stream, rubbing a blush burn developing on his unprotected cheek. His fall sent ripples that nearly dislodged the frog from his leafy post.
“Back off weirdo, I am not a toy!” warned the annoyed frog.
Shirking away from the unexpected rebuke, Nick stare at the talking creature with wide eyes.
“That’s right. I am talking to you. My, you are a most unappealing biped. Very gangly. And lacking the spherical physique of most,” said ReadMe. In between sentences, his tongue flicked at any bugs still lurking nearby.
Recovering from the initial scare, Nick composed himself, rubbed off any residual lime slime and addressed the petulant amphibian.
“Well you don’t have to be a jerk about it. You nearly scared me to death. What or who are you?” he asked the toad.
“I believe I have been stating my name with sufficient clarity. If you only had the mental capacity to understand the rudiments of language, you would know that! My name is ReadMe! ReadMe! Got it!”
“Oh. That’s what you were sayin’. Sounded more like Rimi to me.”
“My diction is not the problem biped. The problem is your puny intellect.”
“Whatever. Rimi, ReadMe. Does it really matter?”
“Does it matter? Does it matter? What’s your name?”
“Nick.”
“How would you like it if I called you Stick, Bick or Click? Ha! Thought not.”
“Whatever toad! ReadMe or Rimi, whatever, I’ll be moving on.” Nick began to trudge away through the murky liquid.
“Wait. Wait. I have been sent here to send you a most important message.”
Nick stopped and turned towards the rude toad. “Ok. What is it?”
“You could ask a little nicer. After all, it is a most important message.” He announced.
“ReadMe? What are you? What is the message? And where the heck am I?”
“I am one of the most esteemed citizens of this world. I deliver the messages between various parties. If you do not check your attitude biped Nick, I will not reveal the message. Where you are, is in my presence, so be impressed,” said ReadMe holding himself in a most regal posture for a frog.
“So you’re an errand boy, eh. All you do is relay messages for others. You have a mighty big ego for someone with a crappy job,” argued Nick.
“Really. Messages are some of the most valued items in this world. And I carry them. That makes me very valuable.”
“Whatever. It’s the people sending the messages that are important. You are just a means to an end.”
“Oh, but you are wrong my mental midget. The source of the message is of no consequence. The key is the message. And I alone hold that commodity.”
“Whatever dude. I am not here to debate ya. Just tell me what the message is.”
“Apologize for your disrespectful attitude and I will relay your message.”
“Fine! Sorry!”
“Disingenuous. Say it like you mean it, or you will most likely rot in this forest. You need my message biped Nick.”
Nick seriously considered letting the testy toad shove off without sharing whatever message he was tasked to convey. Since information, any information, would be helpful, he ultimately relented.
“Fine. I’m sorry ReadMe. I didn’t mean any disrespect. Now what’s the message?”
“Not the most sincere apology, but an improvement nonetheless,” relented ReadMe. “The message says follow the green stream to the great Walled City. I will meet you there.”
“Who sent it?”
“The person signified by ‘I’. That is all I am required to transmit.”
“So you know who sent the message?”
“That is correct.”
“But you won’t or can’t tell me.”
“You are catching on biped Nick.”
“Uhhhh,” sighed Nick, “Which way to this Walled City?”
“Did you not listen to my message,” grumped the frustrated toad. “Follow the green stream out of the forest and head for the big Wall. It is a fairly straightforward message, easily understood by anyone with a modicum of intelligence. Apparently, you are more challenged than I first thought. The stream is over there,” ReadMe pointed to it with his long skinny sandpaper tongue which shot out from his bulbous lips, “follow that way out of the forest. Walk to the great walled city. Do I need to draw you a map?”
“No. I got it alright!” What an annoying creature, thought Nick.
“Good. Because I am not inclined to help you any further. Now if you do not mind, I have far more interesting people to see and far more important places to be. I would wish you luck if I cared, but I do not. Goodbye biped Nick.” ReadMe then hopped into the lime stream and swam away, all the while mumbling and complaining about all the idiots around here.

****

Once the toad was out of site, Nick heard tiny little voices rising from the swampy green muck. They were not quite loud enough to discern; more like whispers from close by. At the same time, Nick felt something crawling up his legs. A fly-like insect buzzed about his head as well.
Trying to swat the bug away, he slapped empty air in vain. They voices grew just a bit louder. He could just about make out what they were saying.
“Slither. Slither. Slither,” said one of the crawly creepy things slithering up his leg. Each time it moved, he announced it with the word slither.
“Bite. Bite. Bite,” sang the other crawling bug. Each time it said the word Bite, a jolt of pain shot down Nick’s left leg. He tried to brush off these bugs to stop the biting and the slithering. They were tricky little things dodging his hands with ease.
“Sting. Sting. Sting,” said the flying insect as it landed on Nick. Each time it said the word sting, he felt burning pain on the back of his neck.
Between the slithering, biting and stinging; Nick flailed helplessly in an attempt to free himself of the trio. They continued to dodge his hands and sound off with more slithers, bites and stings.
“Slither?” said Bite.
“Yes Bite,” he replied after siphoning some blood through his suctions. Slither had a mouth that locked onto skin and pulled blood to the surface.
“His blood. It tastes different.”
“Yes Bite, most different. He must be from the Outer ROM. Strange creatures, those Rommers.”
“Yes. Yes. The Outer ROM. That’s it. What do you think Sting?” asked Bite.
“I likes it Bite. Very salty Rommer. Very salty,” replied Sting between stingings.
“Arhh! Get away! Jeesh!” said Nick; flailing with sufficient violence to knock himself down into the slimy stream. Even bathing in the viscous green goo did not deter the verbal and physical attack. At this point, Nick fell into a complete panic and dashed wildly through the trees. All the while the bugs persisted with the attack.
Heading towards the edge of the forest, Nick crashed into a plump tree tumor and fell to the ground with a flopping plop of displaced jaba. Dark tumor tea dripped on his forehead and Slither, Sting and Bite persisted with the verbal and physical attack.
“Ugh! Disgusting,” said Nick as he wipe the dark sap from his face.
As he righted himself, Nick heard a shuffling from behind. Turning around, he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a round green globe gliding through the trees. On his left another green globe dashed by him. Soon a gang of these spheres gathered round him. The strange spherical creatures appeared to be spinning in haphazard rotations. Some wobbled, others spun north to south. Still other globes rotated counter clockwise. This was opposite to the clockwise rotation of healthy Silicates. He was surrounded by the Tainted Ones.
“Nasty Taints. Away we go,” said the crawly buggers sliding back down his legs. They appeared terrified of the Tainted Ones.
“Terrible tasting Taints. Poison they are. Time to fly,” said the formerly stinging insect; darting away from the group of globes.
“Whew!” said a relieved Nick; rubbing his welts. Whatever these big green globes were, they sure terrified the bugs, thought Nick. He wasn’t certain that he was any better off with the globes, considering how fast the bugs departed.
The Tainted Ones were deep green globes with orange tubes sprouting from their north poles. Their tubes, orange pulsing cobras, waved on windless air. As they spoke the cobras moved in hypnotic undulations.
Tainted Ones spun without regard to social protocols restricting this motion to Servers and other Elite Silicates. They were an anathema to NetherWorld, so following rules was not really a concern. If fact, Tainted Ones never used their plunger legs. In one of their wanton rituals, all new Tainted have their plunger legs removed to celebrate the freedom of spinning.
“Identify yoozzelf creecha,” demanded Jak, the most stable looking globe of the bunch. His voice sounded like a person who inhaled far too much helium.
“What tis it?” asked another in the same high pitched sound.
“It’s an ugly tingy. Not global.”
“Bad it be. Berry bad,” agreed another of the Tainted.
“No globe. No good.” agreed a smaller globe in the same squirrelly voice of his brethren.
He was still quite erratic in rotation. They were levitated by the spinning motion of their south polar region. The rest of their globe remained still. They each had long rectangular visors perched just above the equator. These were used for vision. A small orifice below the equator served as the mouth.
“Excuse me! How about identifying yourself?” responded Nick, still perplexed by this strange new world.
“We Tainted Ones. I Jak. Yooz da prisner. Our prisner. How come no tubies? No tubies, no good. Who you be, ugly tingy? Talky o’ die. Yooz chooz.” The Tainted Ones were suffering from some of the most serious diseases borne of the viruses poisoning the jaba streams. Their ability to think and speak was greatly affected. This often resulted in repetition and unorthodox speech patterns.
“I am a Karbon. Where is this place?”
“Karbon? What a Karbon?” asked Jak, the apparent leader of the small group of global thugs?
“Can we eat Karbon?”