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Leets are the most loved
critter in the whole of Rubi-Ka and its hard to
resist their childish charm, so naturally, we
sent Twicer out to do some research about them
but he found himself in way over his head when
encountering the small town of Leetville.. |
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Leetville is story series, describing the ongoing
adventures of Twicer as he discovers the wondrous
world of Leetville! Special thanks to numerous
leets and adventurers as well as Nepentheia. No
leets were harmed in this production - Twicer,
on the other hand...
Chapter Five
Twicer felt it as he was being followed. It wasn't
just the fact that whenever he looked at the side
of the road he could see bushes shuffle. Neither
was it just the fact that it seemed to be the
same bush. Neither was it the fact that he could
see a tail sticking out of the bush. It was all
those factors combined. Added to that, Skittle
had told him "I think we are being followed!".
Another step. The Bush shuffled. Yet another step
- the bush shuffled along the road again. Conspiratorially
Twicer took a step back. The bush shuffled further
down the road, stopped, and then shuffled back
hurriedly and with considerable shame.
"Okay, what's going on?" Twicer demanded
and stopped to cross his arms. Out of the shrubbery
flew a leet and landed on the cobblestones of
the road. The leet was wearing a a widerimmed
hat. It had a feather in it. The leets tail was
wrapped around a tiny Musketeer Rapier.
"Ah-HAH!" it cried. Twicer rolled his
eyes.
"Wtf!" Skittle and Izzy said in unison.
"Tails up! Hand over your money and any muffins
you got or face the wrath of the leetlest highwayman
in Leetville!" the leet cried out.
"And you.. Must be Robin Leet." Twicer
stated. He felt he was getting a hang of all this
naming business. The leet froze and stared coldly
at him.
"No! Name's Cuddlegit!" Cuddlegit said.
"Cuddle.. Git?!"
Cuddlegit sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Yes. When Cuddlegit gots born, his mom say
'Name him Cuddle, Mojo!' but Mojo hard of hearing
that day, so Mojo go 'What? Cuddlemoo?' and then
Cuddlegit's mom go 'No! Cuddle, git!' and that's
when Mojo's earplugs fell out at same time! Now
- hand over all money and muffins or suffer the
consequences!"
"We don't have any, I'm afraid, Cuddlegit."
Twicer said apologetically.
"Aww - hoot! How is Cuddlegit supposed to
be a highwayman if no one has money, eh?!"
Cuddlegit said and contrived to look sad. Twicer
leaned down and ran his indexfinger under the
chin of Cuddlegit, who whimpered sadly but clearly
enjoyed it, because one of his feet were pattering
the ground rhythmically.
After Twicer had managed to cuddle Cuddlegit back
into his former, leety self, Cuddlegit had taken
his camouflage bush and trod off. In the distance,
Twicer could hear him shuffle along the side of
the road. There was a quick pattering of feet
and..
"Pron!" Twicer could hear the sound
of a trenchcoat opening up and loud protests from
Cuddlegit claiming the bush as his own. Twicer
did not dare to look back, afraid of what he would
see.
"Where.." Twicer started but broke off
mid-sentence as one inquiring thought overtook
the next. "Why hasn't anyone caught him?"
he asked.
"Caught him? Nono, Cuddlegit has license!"
"License for highway robbery?"
"Yes!" chirped Izzy and snickered. "Cuddlegit
is taxcollector!" Izzy and Skittle grinned.
Twicer tried to wrap his head around this. The
leet had been dressed up as a highwayman. It had
been pushy and yet.. When it all boiled down to
it, wasn't that what all taxcollectors were? It
could certainly have been worse, he thought to
himself. Images of leets dressed in red imitating
the Spanish Inquisition rolled out before his
eyes and he shook his head to get them out.
"Okay, so he's a taxcollector. Why the hat?"
Izzy and Skittle looked at each other and then
shrugged.
"Why not?" Izzy said and that was it.
And quite honestly, Twicer found himself pondering
that taxes on Rubi-Ka wouldn't seem so harsh if
only Cuddlegit had handled them.
The trio continued down the road.
The leets escorted Twicer along a road that led
past what looked like a farmers field towards
another crossing in the road.
"Izzy better go before Sumo does stupid thing
for third time!" Izzy said and looked at
Skittle in a sad way. As on cue, the very second
later a sound reminding Twicer of a muffled explosion
could be heard and a very familiar shape shot
towards the skies from a hill far away. Twicer
recognized the missile as what once was Izzy's
last remaining hut.
"... now fourth time!" Izzy said and
hurriedly scuttled towards his home, in hope of
it landing at least somewhere in the vicinity
of its originating launchpoint. Skittle nuzzled
Twicer's feet and tugged on his pants, urging
him to follow.
The hut at which they arrived was surrounded by
a white wooden fence which looked like it would
fall apart at the puff of a wind. Nailed to the
door of the hut was a sign saying "Free tikets!
Only 1 dolar!" and from the hut itself loud
thumps and a horrifying wail could be heard.
"What was that?!" Twicer asked, backing
away slightly from the hut.
Skittle nodded towards the door and Twicer approached
it carefully and knocked three times. There were
sudden sounds of scuttling from within and a loud
clatter and then silence.
"Git offa the prop'ty!" someone inside
screamed through the door. Twicer looked at Skittle
who shrugged and grinned.
"I come in peace?" suggested Twicer.
"Are ye the p'lice?" the voice inquired
from within. "I'll have ye know, we was on
de other side o' town when we nicked that chocolate
chip muffin, we was! Dunno nothing about it!"
"I'm not the police! I said I come in peace!"
Twicer said. There was mumbling from within the
hut as its inhabitants seemed to agree on something.
"How do I know eh? Got yerself a badge to
show me?"
"I'm not the police, I haven't got a badge!"
Again muttering sounds from inside the hut reached
Twicer's ears and he could make out some of the
words.
"..Could be the p'lice in disug...digusu..
gusti.. Dressed up as someone!" another voice
bellowed from inside the hut.
"I didn't know leets had policemen?"
Twicer insisted and tried to imagine a leet in
a policeman's uniform. There was something troubling
about that particular mental image. More mumbling
from within the hut ensued.
"s'right, s'right, true 'nuff... so ye'r
not a p'lice leet then." conceded the voice.
There was a pause, as if sudden doubt had struck
the voice.
"Ye'r not one o' them rollers are ye?!"
it asked cautiously.
"If I were a rollerrat, would I knock on
the door?"
"s'right, s'right.. ye sound bit brainy fer
roller anyways." The voice agreed. "Whut
about large talkin' snake? Not one o' those are
ye?"
"No!"
"Aight, I is gonna open the door now an'
if ye'r a big talkin' snake tryin' to eat me,
there is gunna be trouble!" the voice cried
out and the door was flung open and hit Twicer
very hard in the face. As he fell to the ground,
an energetic leet came flying out from the hut
and landed on him. The leet had a wide grin on
his face and was so full of energy and enthusiasm
that Twicer found himself silently hoping it wouldn't
combust. It had a silver star painted over one
of its eyes.
"Ah-HAH! I knew it! Ye'r a roller after all
- an UGLY roller! Prepare t'meet yer maker!"
"Hnng." Moaned Twicer.
"He is with me, Sneek." Skittle said
to the overenergetic leet which apparently was
called Sneek.
"Skittle! Nice t'see ye again!" Sneek
said. "C'mon inside - the whole gang is here
so we is!" Sneek nodded towards the downed
nanomage. "Ye can even bring the stupid human!"
Twicer got up and followed Skittle and Sneek into
the hut. As soon as the door shut behind Twicer
he realized what had been making the wailing sound.
One of the huts inhabiting leets was wearing a
small electronic guitar, most likely another invention
of Izzy on one of his better days. It had a single
string on it, the rest of the strings had broken
and hung sadly from the guitar - from the looks
of things they had snapped from overuse.
"Meet de band! Sneek is lead singer!"
Sneek said and pointed his nose towards the guitarist.
"That be Freek! Plays mean solos! Was in
de middle of one when de two of ye came around!"
"Ah.. Err. Pleasure to meet you, Freek."
Said Twicer. "What was that you were playing
earlier?" he added in a sudden burst of curiosity.
"Ye don't know classical music very well
do ye?" Freek replied. "Phantom o' the
Opera! Best heavy mettle in Leetville!"
"But.. That isn't heavy metal?"
"The way I play it, is heavy mettle!"
grinned Freek and nuzzled the sole surviving guitarstring,
making the guitar wail loudly. Sneek headbanged
to it. Twicer was not very musically talented
himself - at best his singing could be compared
to the sound of a lion caught in a beartrap and
any instrument he attempted to play invariably
ended up playing a note that, if it could ever
be given a name, would probably been known as
H-flat. Freek had an electric guitar with a single
string and was still better than most guitarists
Twicer had heard. There was no denying it - the
leet had talent.
"Woot! Mettle!" Sneek chirped and then
scuttled over to another leet that sat behind
what could've been called drums if you stretched
the term drums to include large metal containers
and pans. "This be Bob. Bob The Drummer!"
"Hi!" cheeped Bob the leet.
"Ah yes.. Nice to meet you, Bob The Drummer?"
Twicer hesitantly stretched out his arm and scratched
the leet on the side of its chin, making its tail
wiggle against the bassdrum producing something
that reminded Twicer of a hiphop beat.
"Aaargllll..." Bob The Drummer cheeped
happily.
"We're the Leetles!" Sneek beamed proudly
and spun around energetically.
Twicer found himself suffering from a sudden cough.
"The Leetles?"
"Wtf?! Lots better than we wus used to be!
We USED to be Mahatma Leet and the Dregghesters!"
Sneek looked affronted.
"Not no more though!" Bob said.
"No, because Mahatma go home fer donuts!"
Freek filled in and beamed.
"I see." Twicer nodded. "And..
What do you play then, Sneek?"
"Eheheh!" Sneek laughed manically and
nodded towards his instrument that lay on the
floor behind Twicer.
"Eheheheh!!"
Not possible. It couldn't be. The mere physics
of it was mindboggling.
"You play the bagpipe?"
"Sneek not exactly PLAY the bagpipe.."
Sneek smiled deviously and went over to the instrument,
nuzzling it. "Bagpipe is bad instrument for
little leets, so what Sneek do is..." and
scurried away a short distance from the instrument.
"What Sneek do is ..." Sneek repeated.
"PWN IT!" Bob and Freek screamed in
chorus and Sneek started jumping frenetically
on the bagpipe.
"Woooooot!" Sneek screamed as he jumped
up and down on the bagpipe and produced some of
the most harmonic tones Twicer had ever heard.
Exactly how this was done would forever be a mystery
to Twicer, whose personal opinion about bagpipes
was that any instrument made from sheep should
sound quite horrific. Even so, Twicer was infinitely
relieved that Sneek, in all his heavy mettleness
had found an outlet for his energy - and that
it wasn't biting the heads off of reets on stage.
When the tones from the bagpipe subsided and his
eardrums started working again Twicer was scratching
his jaw.
"Who writes the lyrics then?" he asked.
"Eh well.." Bob the drummer started
and scratched himself. "That be a secret."
"Yep. Big secret!" Sneek agreed.
Freek seemed to think about this for a short while.
"Freek thought it was Bob's mom?" he
said. Sneek and Bob froze and then slowly turned
towards Freek. The silence hung in the air and
Freek shuffled a little.
"It's not Bob's mom?" he ventured.
As Twicer and Skittle backed out the door and
left the hut, the muffled sounds of music started
again, although there was a distinct lack of wails.
Twicer stopped and looked back at the hut.
"You think Freek is okay?" he asked.
"Freek fine!" Skittle said and looked
up into the skies. It was getting late, the stars
were already coming out. "We need to hurry!
Skittle still need to show stupid human one more
thing before its time!" he said and scuttled
onwards.
Last updated 12. January 2004
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