Slowly, Evil Editor drifted back to consciousness. His vision was still blurred, and his head ached. Other parts of him hurt, too. He remembered the crash, and eventually the subsequent events came back to him: how he’d been found by that ridiculous minion Talpianna, who had loaded him into a wheeled laundry basket to take him to her home. He thought at least one of his arms was broken. Well, at least Tal was one of the saner minions, except for her mole obsession—God only knows what Robin would have done to him!
“Here we are!” chirped Tal. EE blinked; all he saw was a huge mound. “I live in mole style, you know. It’s an earth house; the solar panels are on the other side of the molehill. Now we’ll just maneuver you onto the elevator….”
No sooner said than done.
EE cleared his throat. “Talpianna, I’m really very grateful. I guess I owe you an apology for jeering at your fantasy about living with moles.”
Tal gave him an odd, measuring look. “A bit late for that, since you’ve made me the laughingstock of the blog. I really DO live with moles, you know. And don’t think it’s easy.”
They emerged into a short tunnel, then into a large room, dimly lit; but he caught sight of dozens upon dozens of little beady eyes glinting in the gloom.
“Moles have to eat their own weight every twenty-four hours just to stay alive, you know; I have the devil of a time finding fresh meat for them….”