It’s a long time since Mr Ormal has been outside his phlat, now that the Popawomps have been rounded up into krates and the Slittertoads all stabbyjabbed into klages, and a blangery machine has ripped right through his favourite plarkblench.
So Mr Ormal is going to find the Plodiceman. He wants to ask him something.
The Plodiceman is standing right in front of the Tovine Factory.
“Mr Plodiceman” sais Mr Ormal. “I need to ask you a questeron.”
“Ormalcy Citizen 91101, what is your inquiree?”
Mr Ormal doesn’t blinck.
“What made you become a Plodiceman?” sais Mr Ormal.
“I wanted to Swerve and Project the Ormalcy way of life.” sais the Plodiceman.
“Why?” sais Mr Ormal.
“Because it’s the right thing to do.” sais the Plodiceman.
“Oh. Right.” Sais Mr Ormal.
Mr Ormal, not pheeling much at all, walks not on the plathway straight to the Plodice Stateshon.
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