The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill by Kamilla Reid Read Free Book Online Page A

friend. His
teeth fell from memory.
    “Jorab!” he shuffled forward with extended
hands. A lengthy embrace was soon followed by Jorab’s swift
portering skills. Within moments, he had the bowtie amended, the
checklist checked and the suitcase opened, paving the way for any
last minute items.
    The one thing that Ernest Skubblenob did not
seem to ever forget was his Tempometre. He scooped it up gingerly
and paused to decide its best keepsake locale, the suitcase or his
pocket. He leaned most comfortably in the direction of his pocket,
hating the idea of the distant suitcase. But, if he wasn’t careful
it could fall out of his pocket…
    “What’s that you got there, Ernest?” Jorab
asked after the silver object.
    The eyes of Ernest Skubblenob lit up like
stars. “This, my friend is what will help my dear charges win this
race. This is a Tempometre!”
    Ernest Skubblenob was not a bonafide inventor
by industry standards. Not that he hadn’t spent the greater portion
of his life trying. It was just that most of his inventions hadn’t
quite succeeded in their intents. And if one were to be really
frank one would admit that in actuality none had quite succeeded.
But that didn’t stop Ernest Skubblenob, nor had the many complaints
and arrests. He was determined to invent. That’s what he did. After
work and on holidays and often in the wee hours of the morning.
    “I see.” Jorab was truly curious. “What does
it do?” He sat down on his friend’s tiny little sofa and
immediately jumped back up. A pair of teeth had attached themselves
to his back end. “Yours?” he asked.
    “Oh! Pardon me, Jorab!” Ernest unclamped his
teeth and slid them fitfully into his mouth. Much better. He smiled
at Jorab who took to his seat again, waiting expectantly for the
demonstration.
    Ernest Skubblenob’s spine immediately denied
its crook while his beaming eyes and mouth took centre stage. “It’s
a Tempometre!”
    “Mmm. Would you mind refreshing my
memory?”
    “Not at all!” The inventor turned his back to
Jorab and reached for a large wired-up metal object on the only
other chair around the table. It was a helmet. Or the closest thing
to it. And it was plopped on the old man’s head, destroying any
semblance of credibility in its rent. Rather a bulky large metal
garbage can head came to mind.
    The black straps were adjusted tightly under
the chin and once a balance of the neck was struck, the inventor
ahemed. “Hmmm, I wonder where my friend, Jorab is? I wonder where
he could be? Jorab! Oh, Jorab!”
    “I’m right here, Ernest, just behind…”
    “I know that!” The inventor snapped. “I’m
role playing.”
    “Ah. Er…Do carry on.”
    The inventor huffed a bit and tried to pick
up the trail where he had left off. He ended up back at the
beginning. “Hmmm, I wonder where my friend, Jorab is? I wonder
where he could be? Jorab! Oh, Jorab! Hmm, he seems to be missing.
That’s quite all right, Ernest. You don’t have to worry, old boy.
Why you ask? Because you have your handy dandy Tempometre. It will
come to your aid!”
    With that, Ernest Skubblenob brought the
Tempometre to his lips. “Jorab!” He declared and his hand struck a
rather melodramatic pose. The garbage can came to life.
Hundreds of lights at the ends of pins ignited. A high-pitched hum
hit the air. The lights blinked randomly on and off, on and off and
a few belches of smoke coughed their way outward.
    Ernest pointed the slim platinum device now
purring softly in his hand and walked in the exact opposite
direction of Jorab. The Tempometre got right to work getting colder
and colder and colder until a slight frost caked over and Ernest
had to use his sleeve to hold it. Meanwhile his helmet was shaking
his head so much that his words were coming out agitated.
Unfortunately his teeth did, too. But the inventor carried on
bravely.
    “Gee, it’s g-g-g-getting awfully c-c-c-cold.
I guess he’s n-n-n-n-not here!” Skubblenob said with