The very, very fancy automobile (Patreon)

slowed down and stopped, despite the passenger screeching "We can't stop here! This is elf country!"

I was immediately reassured by the scrawny cat's wild-eyed grin and loud floral shirt (indicating a devout Mephitist.) The vehicle was large enough to hold me and all my companions. The cat reached around and opened the door, and we climbed in. The cat turned and grinned at me. The driver, some sort of buffalo or wildebeest, was loudly singing something that might have been a song.

At a loss for words, yet feeling I should say something to this staring lowfolk person, I blurted out the first thing I could think of. “I’ve never actually ridden in an open air touring car before.”

“Is that right??" the cat grinned even wider. "Well, I guess you’re about ready then, aren’t you??”

The driver giggled wildly and honked the car’s horn. “We’re your friends. We’re not like the others, really.”

“No more of that talk, or I’ll put the damned leeches on you!” the cat snapped at his companion, then turned and continued grinning at me.

I felt immediately uneasy. I looked at Burnside and she seemed totally comfortable. Rebecca shot a worried look at me, and Thomson gazed off into the distance.

My stomach lurched as the car suddenly jerked forward and bolted down the road. I was no expert, but this did not feel like a safe speed. Burnside whooped in surprise. Thomson remained calm. Rebecca cackled with glee, and shouted to go faster. I watched with alarm as the massive driver pulled a whole pint of beer from somewhere under the seat and chugged it while not looking at the road. My objections were swept away by the wind, and the cat shouting incoherently about reptiles and bats. Thank Fuma this journey did not last very long, for just a mile further on a law enforcement officer pulled the vehicle over for speeding and erratic driving. A quick look in the storage compartment revealed a staggering amount of illicit chemical substances. Naturally the two reprobates were arrested. With a bit of Wiles and Glamer we convinced the officer that we were innocent bystanders and there was no need to take us in for questioning. He stuffed the two weirdos and their stash of narcotics into his paddy wagon and went on his way, leaving the four of us with the car.

“Does anyone know how to drive?” I asked.

"Mr. Calaveras has mastered this art," Thomson declared, "but he has no limbs to steer or work the pedals."

"Well, if that fellow could do it while out of his mind on booze and whatever that other stuff was, it can't be all that difficult," I assumed. And I was right. After a few scary close calls with a tree, a sheep, and a road sign, I more or less got the hang of it. You just had to take things nice and slow, and stay in the middle of the road. We cruised along for a while, and the trip was actually starting to become enjoyable! Before long, I spied two hitchhikers on the side of the road. These two looked much more sane and gentlemanly than the two louts we had liberated this vehicle from. I decided to help two fellow hitchhikers out. This turned out to be a huge mistake.

The spoonbill stork introduced himself as Robert Despair "But don't let the name fool you!" The portly pigeon he referred to simply as "Ding."

The two birds were world traveling musicians who didn’t know when to shut up! They spent the entire time loudly singing about being on the Road to Percysthorpe, Ballynure, Carcosa, Scranton, and all the other exotic places they had been to. As soon as one song was over, they would start another. Eventually our entire group could stand no more and simply left the two on the side of the road again to hitch a ride with someone else. As we sped away, I could hear Robert exclaiming "Even at your pace, Ding, I think we would have made better time on foot."

After driving in awkward silence for another long while, we saw two more hitchhikers on the horizon. After dealing with the two songbirds, I was hesitant to risk it, but Rebecca insisted since the two of them seemed downtrodden, tired, and in dire need of a lift. I relented.

One was a straight-faced marten with white fur and the other was a jolly fat bear. The marten was polite and quiet. While the bear was very (extremely) chatty, he was at least pleasant company. Finally it seemed like our road trip was going to go smoothly. That is, until the machine lurched and sputtered. I squinted at the console and began to wonder if the dials and meters were more than mere decorations. One in particular had a little needle hovering over a large red E.

“What does E mean?” I asked. The machine sputtered again and the engine stopped.

“Empty…” the marten sighed in tired exasperation.

And then it started raining.

We trudged through the rain and mud for almost an hour, getting soaked and filthy. We tried to hail another ride, but every car and carriage passed us by, probably deciding we were too large a group and too dirty to let in. The marten passed the time in brooding silence while the bear tried to keep everyone’s spirits up. When we finally reached Percysthorpe, the marten bade everyone a curt goodbye, but the bear seemed genuinely sad to part ways.

"That thar was the longest ten miles I ever traveled," Burnside sighed.

Finally, we were near our destination. Hopefully there was nothing blocking the entrance to the Gate, and we could go right in to the Academy, where we could dry out and warm up by a nice cozy fire...

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