[Episode 13] Christmas Miracle! Yuletide Massacre Solved – 6K Dead Readers Receive Justice

Interesting fact: The Yuletide Massacre had long-lasting consequences in Neo-Noctoria and the second Glundark Empire. Over 6000 avid literature enthusiasts disappeared one Christmas morning. This devastating tragedy led to a backlash against literacy, librarians, and the written word.

In the century after the Yuletide Massacre, storytelling was seen as immensely unlucky. All fairytales, fables, and fantysteries were henceforth condensed into four line poems. Longer stories were allowed to exist as summaries under 500 syllables, but were not allowed inside the home. This led to the creation of "cursed sheds" where summaries could be stored without infecting the household with bad luck.

Mito, Dolly, and Rob investigate the Yuletide Massacre. As they attempt to discover the culprit, these brave reporters must race against the clock to escape before the tragedy begins.

Announcer: Welcome to the Crack – the wound between worlds, the rift amongst the stars, the only news network that brings you every story from every reality. You're watching, the CBW Channel.

Dolly: Welcome back to the Crack! Christmas is just around the corner!

Mito: For us, at least. Technically, Christmas is simultaneously happening and not happening in the homes of all our viewers.

Dolly: Don't be a negative Nancy. Viewers, just ignore our dear Mito. She'd tell an axe-murderer he was using the whetstone wrong.

Mito: Is it too much to expect competence from a murderer?

Rob: And I'm Rob Skythrust!

Rob: You two were taking too long to make the introductions. Viewers, please make sure your psychic receptors are tuned in to this broadcast. You're in for a real treat today. As you can tell by the miniature angels hanging from the ceiling of the CBW station, it's Christmas time in the Crack. Dolly has baked enough cookies to feed the entire rebellion on my homeworld.

Mito: Either your rebellion was really small, or you have a strange idea of serving sizes.

Rob: One cookie is standard, right?

Mito: Clearly the other reporters beat you to the breakroom. Dolly's cookies are amazing. I swear, even Mr. Stanton smiles when the rich scents of brown sugar and vanilla waft from the oven. Duels have been fought for the last maple pecan cookie, and Dr. Ravenwood jumped universes so he could finish his shortbread in peace. If you can stop after one cookie, your self-restraint is beyond the imagining.

Dolly: Oh stop, dear. You'll make me blush.

Rob: I guess I'll have to be quick the next time Dolly pulls a batch out of the oven. In honor of Christmas, the CBW Channel has decided to visit a momentous occasion. Owww.

Dolly: For those viewers cursed to a bleak existence without psychic receptors, y'all should know that Rob just smacked himself on one of those angels dangling from the ceiling.

Rob: Ugh. I think I took a trumpet to the eye. That's what I get for making grand gestures.

Mito: We'll do our best to describe the visuals, but you don't want to miss out on the most prestigious spectacle in the second Glundark Empire. Without further ado, I raise my hand to the dangling, golden angels.

Dolly: We arrive in Universe 11, during the second Glundark Empire. My, oh my! Don't this look glamorous!

Rob: We stand outside a large, elegant structure built from blocks of gleaming white marble. Thousands of white columns make it look like the Parthenon, if the Parthenon were six stories high and decked out in twinkling string lights. It looks familiar. I might've seen it in a documentary once, but I can't remember the context. Mito makes me watch a lot of documentaries.

Dolly: That girl does love a good documentary.

Mito: Who needs a documentary when you stand before the most influential building of the 34th century? Imagine how many millions of sapient species have trod this grand staircase and passed through these hallowed halls.

Dolly: I squint my eyes and peer into the structure. The architectural design is interesting and all, but it must contain something truly exciting to pique the interest of our favorite lead reporter. Is it a senate? I know the second Glundark Empire had a senate, but I don't think this building is quite big enough to seat thousands of representatives from other planets. I'd wonder if it's a hospital, but it's a bit too clean for anything medical.

Rob: Clean? I thought hospitals had to be clean. When we had to get treatment for radiation poisoning, the hospital made a big deal about sanitation.

Dolly: I'm talking more about the metaphysical side of life, my darling beefcake. Pain, grief, and fear muddle the air. They drift and thicken and strangle like pond scum or lily pads. They have their place in the ecosystem, of course, but the smell is unmistakable. Come to think of it, this can't be a political building either. There's a distinct sense of cheerfulness wafting through those columns. Rob, sugar, tell me what that sign says. My eyes ain't quite what they used to be.

Rob: Since I am now an excellent reader, I have no problem with decoding the sign. It says nat-ion-al le brair… Um… National leb-rary… Uh. [pause] Mito, this is a library.

Mito: And it's spectacular.

Dolly: Well bless your pea-picking heart. I should've known you'd bring us to a library.

Mito: This is no mere library. If you'd read my briefing, you'd know all about it. This is the national library of the planet Neo-Noctoria.

Rob: Ooh! I know about Neo-Noctoria! It was the capital of the Eastern Faction during the first great Glundark schism. I don't remember a library being very important to the war effort.

Mito: Not everything is about war, Rob.

Dolly: I'm sure this library is very impressive, dear. Given all the Christmas lights and the children skipping around, I'm assuming we're attending some kind of holiday event? That's not really the kind of thing the CBW Channel covers, but I reckon Mr. Stanton is trying to give us an easy assignment after all the recent trouble.

Mito: He is. Mr. Stanton loves the ratings are show has brought in, so he'd prefer we survive a little longer. It's just… um…

Rob: Oh, stars. There's nothing scarier than when Mito breaks into that tone.

Mito: The Christmas special is a pretty big deal, you know? We can't cover just any story. We have to make plans in advance.

Dolly: How far in advance?

Mito: Dr. Ravenwood planned this trip.

Dolly: [bleep bleep bleeeeep] and I'll tell that [bleep] Mr. Stanton to [bleep] [bleep] while his tail [bleep bleep bleeeeep] And that Dr. Ravenwood too [bleep bleep] mother [bleep] would rather [bleep] danger than run from it. [bleeeeep]

Dolly: Ahem. Please excuse my French.

Mito: I don't think your suggestions are anatomically possible.

Rob: With enough lube and determination, anything is possible. Or so I've been told.

Rob: Don't give me that look, Mito. I'm a former love interest living in the Crack Between Worlds. My girlfriend might've been happy with the occasional make-out session, but my fellow reporters have much more creative fantasies.

Dolly: Not every world is as bright and shiny as yours, Rob.

Mito: Well, regardless, we're here and we have a time slot to fill. I really wish you'd read the briefing. The library is hosting a Christmas party for academics and book enthusiasts. It's going to be packed with people, until it very abruptly becomes unpacked.

Dolly: Unpacked?

Mito: Dead bodies don't really count as a crowd.

Rob: That's where I know this building! The Yuletide Massacre. [bleep]

Mito: Censors!

Dolly: Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?

Rob: Why are we here for the Yuletide Massacre? Are we supposed to interview the survivors?

Mito: Of course not. That's been done to death. We're here to investigate. The Yuletide Massacre is the most infamous cold case of the century. 6000 people disappeared within a single hour. The only clue? Bloody garland.

Rob: Right. This is horrifying, but I'm sure we've faced worse. Let's go save these people.

Dolly: Sorry, sugar. We aren't really the saving type.

Mito: Here at the CBW Channel, we pride ourselves on fair, neutral coverage. If we find a mass murderer, we're supposed to interview him.

Rob: You're suggesting we stall the mass murderer so the police have time to apprehend him?

Mito: The people of this world are currently strict pacifists. There is no police. Our job is to find an interesting angle, but not so interesting that it kills us. If we manage to discover the murderer, Mr. Stanton promises to give us an extra safe story for our next time slot.

Rob: Tayla Quick was supposed to be an extra safe story, and look how that turned out.

Dolly: You two are such worrywarts. It'll be fine.

Mito: As one, we all turn to the national library. The white marble exterior seems to glow beneath the lilac sky. It truly is a beautiful building. It almost seems a shame to go inside.

Dolly: Definitely a shame. Maybe we ought to start our investigation out here. The murderer could be hiding in the bushes. For all we know, there isn't a murderer at all. They could've been poisoned by, uh, all those Christmas lights.

Rob: How would colorful lights kill someone?

Dolly: Microplastics.

Rob: Microplastics?

Dolly: They're a silent killer.

Mito: Perhaps the lightbulbs are irradiated. As reporters, we have a duty to investigate these lights before we enter the library where a mass murderer might be waiting.

Dolly: I couldn't have said it better myself, dear.

Rob: We slowly walk around the national library. Ever since our, uh, incident in the nuclear wasteland, Mito keeps a radiation detector-

Mito: Geiger counter

Rob: Mito never leaves the Crack without a Geiger counter. While Dolly inspects the Christmas lights for microplastics, Mito enthusiastically waves the Geiger counter over anything and everything. I check the bushes for hiding murderers. I haven't found any, but I'm hopeful.

Dolly: This might be a good time to go to our sponsor, Llama Cigarettes.

Mito: Are you a main character facing certain doom, or worse, an awkward conversation with your crush? Are you a chosen one preparing to sacrifice yourself for the world?

Rob: You need llama cigarettes.

Dolly: Llama cigarettes are guaranteed to give you 5-10 minutes to collect your thoughts and make peace with your regrets.

Mito: In only three easy steps, you can stall your demise. First, simply inform your arch-nemesis, executioner, or love interest that you will be going on a smoke break. Social convention compels all opposition to agree.

Dolly: Next, light one of our stylish cigarettes. You can find them in the cancer aisle of any pharmacy near you.

Mito: Finally smoke your cigarette as you contemplate your decisions and lack of future. To improve the ambience, consider leaning on a balcony railing and staring into the distance until your fingers burn. [faster] Smoking times may vary. Not suitable for people expecting to survive the final showdown. Ask your life coach if smoking is right for you.

Rob: Remember, procrastinators smoke Llama Cigarettes.

Mito: We circled the building and examined every one of the Christmas decorations we could find. I can't think of another reason to linger outside.

Dolly: Not that any of us were procrastinating. No siree Bob. We would never.

Rob: As we stare into the foreboding depths of the library, a small child skips past us. The bells braided around her antennas jingle with every step. Is she one of the poor souls doomed to perish in this wretched library?

Dolly: Rob has really been coming into his own lately. That was practically poetic.

Mito: I know. I'm an example to us all.

Dolly: Well, dear. Be an example and lead us all into the library.

Mito: As lead reporter, I am afraid of nothing. I have faced death so many times, I can greet it like an old friend.

Rob: How do you greet death like an old friend?

Mito: Don't be silly, Rob. It's just something people say.

Rob: Do you call death by a nickname? Like, hey, Death-Dawg. What's up?

Dolly: I think I'd call death 'Buttercup.' It just feels right.

Mito: No one is calling death anything. We are going to march into the library, find our culprit, and then de-materialize before anyone needs to use a stupid nickname.

Rob: Together, we walk up the steep steps and enter the library. As we pass over the threshold, enthusiastic carolers serenade us with holiday cheer.

Dolly: Heaven's to Betsy, smell that popcorn. Look, they're drizzling caramel over it. What do you think the chances are it's poisoned? I'd love to try a piece. Just one. I don't want to catch the sugars.

Mito: Everywhere I look, people are smiling and chatting. Children run through the halls, books held over their small heads like trophies. Rows and rows of books stretch out as far as the eye can see, but the celebration has made its home between the stacks. Thick garland, made from the famous Glundark Purple Pines, peeks over the top of the shelves. Hot chocolate bubbles by the gingerbread houses. I wonder if one of these exquisite creations won the contest before there was no one left to care.

Rob: If we warned people, could they leave in time, or would it only prompt the massacre to start sooner?

Mito: Enough of this maudlin crap. It's sad, but we have a job to do. The Yuletide Massacre began on this floor. Casualties were fewer on the higher floors. Potentially, someone might have jumped out a window to avoid the murder, but no survivors have ever come forward. Ideas?

Rob: There weren't any bodies left behind, right?

Mito: There were a few blood splatters and not much else. There's no species native to this quadrant of space that can devour a full-grown Neo Noctorian so quickly. The previous investigators suggested a ray gun, but ray guns are massive in this century. Someone would've noticed. Besides, ray guns have to cool off after a handful of shots. The murderer would've had to bring a shipping container full of ray guns to make this kind of impact.

Rob: Dolly, do you think this falls under your specialty?

Dolly: What specialty is that sugar?

Rob: Magic?

Dolly: I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.

Mito: What if it's some kind of bio weapon. Maybe-

Random man: Excuse me. You're standing in the children's section. If you want to discuss death, the murder mysteries are on the third floor.

Mito: I glare at the man like he's a bug on my shoe. His antenna droop, and he stomps off in a huff. As soon as he is out of sight, we three reporters sheepishly shuffle over to the glykite.

Mito: In seconds, the glykite deposits us on the third floor.

Rob: I never thought I'd miss elevators. The glykite makes my bones buzz.

Dolly: The third floor is every bit as gussied up as the rest of the library. Thick, violet garlands drape themselves across book shelves and doorways. Nestled within their dense needles, tiny lights twinkle. It's decorated for a more mature audience. What it lacks in colorful ornaments and peppermint candies, it makes up for in sheer elegance. Even the smell is more dignified. The scents of pine and old books twist together to form a perfume less nauseating than the sugar factory downstairs.

Mito: Nauseating? There's nothing better than the smell of hot cocoa and caramel.

Rob: I'm with Dolly on this one. Pine trees smell better. Even purple pines.

Mito: Are we solving a mystery or debating room odor?

Dolly: Alright, alright. We'll quit lollygagging. You whip out your little radiation detector. Rob and I will start looking for murderers in the bookshelves.

Mito: Although Dolly is NOT the lead reporter, I decide to follow her suggestion. It is Christmas, after all. Unfortunately, nothing in this library appears to be radioactive. It's just garland, garland, and more garland. Fortunately, the inhabitants of Neo-Noctoria have the good sense to stick with garland made from the boughs of actual trees. Natural furnishings are classy.

Rob: I don't know about classy, but they're better than the silver plastic tree Mr. Stanton put in the breakroom.

Dolly: That thing gives me a headache just looking at it. If he wanted something shiny enough to burn out the retinas, he could've just installed a disco ball.

Rob: Disco ball? That sounds contagious.

Dolly: Never you mind that, Rob. Do these garlands seem a bit strange to you? As I ruffle through them in search of tiny murderers, I feel like the pine needles are sticking to my fingers a bit too long.

Mito: I noticed that. It almost feels like… don't mock me, alright. I know this is a weird comparison, but it's all I've got. Do you know Bruce?

Dolly: The catfish in accounting? He's just the sweetest. Good with numbers, too.

Rob: Every time he looks at me with his cold, dead eyes, I think he sees the number of his brethren I've eaten.

Mito: Don't be silly, Rob. Bruce looks forward to our monthly fish fry more than anyone. Shit. I lost my train of thought. Nice going, Rob.

Dolly: We were talking about the garland.

Mito: Right. Bruce doesn't see very well, so when we greet him, we stick our hands in the water and let his long whiskers investigate us. The whiskers flick over our skin and wriggle between our fingers.

Rob: No offense to Bruce, but that is not normal catfish behavior.

Dolly: Normal catfish aren't quite so good with spreadsheets.

Mito: Anyway, close your eyes and hover your hand over the garland.

Rob: Oh, shit! The garland is doing the same thing as Bruce. I thought I was just shaking it when I was looking through the shelves, but it is definitely moving with a purpose.

Dolly: This is Universe 11. It ain't that unusual to find sentient plants. Don't you remember those ferns that almost ate Rob during his first day of reporting?

Rob: The memory will never leave me.

Mito: The harvesting of sentient plants is illegal during this century. Scientist worried some of them might be developing humanoid intelligence, and the Glundark Empire didn't want to be responsible for another genocide.

Rob: Do you think the plants are launching a terrorist attack? That could be what killed these people.

Dolly: It's more likely a poaching problem. Neo-Noctoria might have laws against harvesting sentient plants, but laws are only as good as the enforcers. People will do a lot to take home something pretty.

Rob: Hey, hey. You guys are missing the important part. We have a clue.

Mito: It's not much of a clue, but I suppose its something.

Dolly: It can't be long until the massacre starts. I feel it in my bones. If we're going to figure this out, we'd better hop to it. I say we figure out what these purple pines eat. If they're vegans, we're barking up the wrong tree.

Rob: I don't know about you two, but I'd like to live. Let's pass on the clue to the next time-traveling reporter. I bet the Epic Battle Announcers wouldn't mind looking into it.

Dolly: Oh, now you've done it.

Mito: Look, another group just stepped out of the glykite. Rob, make yourself useful and steal that bag of popcorn.

Rob: I refuse to steal popcorn from a child.

Mito: For someone worried about dying in the Yuletide Massacre, you're not overly concerned with efficiency. Fine, fine. We'll go all the way downstairs, wait in line for popcorn, and then see if the garland is interested. That's definitely not a waste of time.

Dolly: I don't know why you want to test the garland with popcorn. We think it's involved in the massacre. Shouldn't we be checking if those purple pines have a hankering for flesh?

Mito: Popcorn is warm and salty. It's like vegan flesh.

Rob: You're all ridiculous.

Mito: Whoa, whoa! I take it back. You don't have to steal the popcorn, Rob. Put that knife away.

Dolly: As Rob rolls his eyes at Mito, he slices into his muscley arm, right below his sexy tattoos. It's a small cut, but crimson blood wells beneath the ink vines. He holds his arm out over the garland. With bated breath, we watch a droplet fall.

Mito: Definitely carnivorous. I think we know why investigators never found the bodies. Now we just have to figure out what killed the party-goers.

Rob: Is it just me, or do you feel like we're being watched?

Dolly: The family that just arrived is looking at us like they're watching a cat bait the crawdad traps.

Rob: I don't know what most of those words mean, but I'm not talking about the Neo-Noctorians. Something is wrong.

Mito: Watch out!

Mito: I valiantly shove Rob aside as the garland lunges. Admittedly, it doesn't lunge very fast. Half its body sways in the air like a cobra as it sort of wiggles through the air. I think it can smell Rob's blood.

Rob: I look down at my sluggishly bleeding arm. I meant to give myself a tiny nick. Unfortunately, my high pain tolerance tricked me into cutting deeper. Curse my toughness.

Dolly: Let's take a few steps closer to the glykite, my lovelies. I think they can smell blood.

Mito: I whirl around. Every patch of purple pine needles in sight is rustling softly. Some are swaying like snakes. Others appear to be climbing down the bookshelves. The family, the Neo-Noctorians who've been watching us with so much suspicion, edge closer. I think they're hoping for safety in numbers.

Mito: As lead reporter, I make a snap decision. Everybody in the glykite.

Rob: I second that decision. Everybody in. Yes, you three as well.

Dolly: Rob herds the Neo Noctorian family into the glykite. Their antennas twitch warily, but they appear to be more scared of the garland than they are of us. Smart. I'd tell them we don't bite, but that would be a lie.

Mito: Was that a sexual reference?

Rob: I can't tell anymore. Probably?

Dolly: This is not the time for chitchat. Pull that switch, sugar!

Mito: We arrive on the first floor. The family bursts out of the glykite, their antennas waving madly.

Mito: Apologies, viewers. The Neo Noctorian's are speaking their local dialect. Unlike the standard Glundark dialect, our universal translators have difficulty processing it. If I'm not mistaken, the family is explaining the carnivorous garland situation.

Rob: In seconds, a librarian appears at the glykite. His fingers fly as he shuts down all access to the floor. The librarian straightens and speaks loudly.

Dolly: I think he's making an announcement. The crowd's antennas are certainly bobbing something fierce. Even the children have stopped playing.

Rob: Do you think we stopped the massacre? If they evacuate the library, no one will be here to die.

Dolly: I stare at the squeaking librarian as I mull over Rob's suggestion. Each decision breaks off a new reality, and the results are endless. Maybe he's right, but I'd like to think I'm a little wiser than yesterday. Something is building. I can practically feel the tempo rising. We aren't out of the woods just yet.

Mito: No thank you. I'm done. We've solved the mystery, and now we're going home. Come closer, Rob.

Rob: Wait. I want to be sure the library evacuates.

Mito: Where is that music coming from? Oh, shit. I think we have a problem.

Rob: Where?

Tayla Quick: It's me. Hi. I'm the problem. [perky] It's me.

Rob: Tayla Quick?

Mito: Before us stands a tall, blonde woman in thigh-high boots, a black sparkly bodysuit, and a cape that pulls the entire ensemble together. It is definitely Tayla Quick, but I don't think she's pretending to be a pop star anymore.

Dolly: The Neo Noctorians seem confused, but they haven't survived this long in the Glundark Empire by accident. With their keen sense of survival, they decide to flee the library. As they run for their squeaky little lives, Tayla throws a glass bottle onto the ground.

Mito: The glass shatters, releasing a noxious pink cloud. I pull my jumpsuit over my nose and back away, but stop as I realize the gas isn't encroaching on us three reporters. A bubble of clear air surrounds Dolly, who only tuts disapprovingly when Tayla Quick glares. Rob and I exchange glances, then edge closer to Dolly.

Rob: The Neo Noctorians drop to the ground. It looks like they've fainted, but I don't trust that pink gas. Is Tayla Quick the true villain of the Yuletide Massacre?

Mito: Dolly inspects the fallen librarian.

Dolly: They're all in an enchanted sleep. I guess we know how the purple garland got them. Look at those little scavengers. They're already creeping up to these sleeping folks. You see that one woman who busted her antenna as she fell? I reckon they're attracted to the blood pooling around her head.

Rob: I don't understand. Did Tayla Quick follow us across universes?

Tayla Quick: Why the tone of surprise, Rob. We have bad blood. You three ruined my life. I was the most famous singer in Universe 56. Everyone loved me until you decided to smear mud on my name. There is nothing I do better than revenge.

Mito: We ruined your life? You're the idiot who tried to show off your secret snow globe prison on a live broadcast. If you'd kept us out of that room, no one would've been the wiser. But nooooo. You wanted to show off. How did that end? Oh, right. Our viewers called the cops. You barely escaped with your snow globe collection and had to hide out in wild space. All your beautiful mansions? Gone. The money? Gone. Your songs? Even the Quicklies don't sing them anymore. And now, instead of gathering your tattered dignity and carving out a life somewhere without extradition laws, you've decided to come back for Round Two? [pause]  You do look great, though. That cape with the high lace collar? Phenomenal. You might have set a new villainous trend.

Dolly: Don't be absurd, sugar. You're a smart girl, but sometime I think you don't have the sense God gave a goose. No real villain wears a cape. At most, they wear a cloak with the hood pulled up to obscure their face.

Tayla Quick: I didn't dress up for you, or Neo Noctoria, or your braindead viewers. Once I might've cared about my image, but lately I've been dressing for revenge.

Rob: I don't know, Dolly. She managed to change her theme without changing her entire look. That's pretty impressive. I mean, yeah, exchanging sparkles for black sparkles is creatively lazy, but you can still look at Tayla and see a pop star. Anyone with eyes could tell you this is Tayla Quick, but she's evil now. That's great branding.

Tayla Quick: It really is. People said I only became so famous because I had a team managing my image, but I think this proves I'm a real marketing genius. Darling I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream.

Rob: You really are. It doesn't help that you strike a beautiful evil pose.

Tayla Quick: [cackles] Are you trying the smolder on me? You can't flirt your way out of this one, Rob. I'm going to kill your friends, but don't worry. I have a special snow globe picked out for you.

Mito: Is that an official comment on your villainous plans?

Tayla Quick: It's more of a line in my lyrics. Now that my career is over, I think it's time for an adjustment to my image. I have the power to crush worlds at my fingertips. Why shouldn't I turn the multiverse into my playground?

Mito: We know you are embracing your potential as an evil magic-user, but can you comment on any specific plans?

Rob: So our viewers can have forewarning?

Mito: Tayla is powerful, dramatic, and twisted. I want to know if she's a young Villainette de Eville.

Tayla Quick: I could be the one that you dream of in your darkest nightmares.

Dolly: I think not. The multiverse was not terrorized by some hussy in a black, sparkly bodysuit.

Rob: I don't want to interrupt this standoff, but are any of you watching our surroundings? The purple garland is nibbling on these people.

Mito: Fed up with our non-action, Rob charges at the slowly creeping garland, eager to save the day. The moment he leaves Dolly's bubble of clean air, Rob collapses onto the library floor. The purple garlands converge. Their sharp pine needles dig into Rob's unconscious body, piercing the skin tight leather. Blood soaks into the thin carpet.

Tayla Quick: Are you even paying attention?

Mito: Not like Dr. Ravenwood. Rob!

Dolly: As Mito rushes to save Rob, I eye the library with disappointment. It was such a nice Christmas Party. Shame about all the blood. Tayla Quick opens her mouth to say something scathing. Mysteriously, her mouth disappears. Hmph. Ain't that strange. A moment later, her eyes roll back into her head, and she collapses on the floor. The poor dear must've overdid the magic spells. It couldn't have happened to a nicer person.

Dolly: Mito holds her breath as she attempts to drag Rob back into the bubble of clean air. A garland wraps around her calve. The pain of it makes Mito gasp. She breathes in the pink cloud and joins Rob on the floor.

Dolly: I think we'd better end the broadcast so I can help my over-enthusiastic fellow reporters. Ta-ta for now, my lovelies.