[SPOILERS FOR BUGSNAX]
Gramble returns from Snaktooth with plans to move on & live an uneventful life. But a rediscovered farewell note, a glass of boiled Strabby Milk and possibly a global conspiracy will prove that to be untrue...
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"Speaking of which - how's your career?"
Gramble let the scarved starry-glassed sister go first, hoping to piece together something interesting enough while she recounted the intricacies of her attempts to rise against her creator's block.
"Yeah, my comeback's been one hell of a Crapple. Sure, I've started touring again, I've stopped smoking crushed crayons in my trailer (Snaktooth has been a real wake up call, better than any rehab, lemme tell you that) - but when I try to think beyond my scope, or try to use my imagination, sometimes there's an inkling of brilliance that I try to write about and then...nothing. That wall is in my way. Some days, I suddenly get into the groove of writing, composing, producing and then BLAM! I run into that same wall again."
"How do you get past that wall?" Gramble inquired, in spite of his non-artistic befuddlement.
"Well, I've been trying to find another outlet to continue letting my creative juices flow, so I thought writing would be the best option! It's going to be a memoir about my time at Snaktooth. It's going to be hard though, since nobody here will believe me - which is why I'm going to make it a semi-biographical allegorical epic! Lost tribes, evil monsters, apocalyptic battles - we're talking movie-deal worthy stuff, darling!"
Gramble was confused. "I guess some of that happened, but is it really the stuff of movies? We were staying in a village, then our leader went missing, then we separated, came back, fought, partied and then one day the Snax decided to kill us and last thing we knew, we were on a ship and there was some...two-headed Snax monster trying to save us. Doesn't sound like a movie to me."
"Oh, don't be so modest! Why wouldn't all that be the stuff of movies? It's got everything - family, mystery, an epic battle-"
Wiggle noticed her friend was wincing at her relatively blithe recount. "I dunno...don't you think it's dangerous to be so careless with your own trauma like this?" He had a face that looked like it was facing a tightrope between the New Grump Towers.
"Trauma? Why do you say so? I thought it was fun! Dangerous and a little sad, yes, but you know, fun-"
He winced & scrunched even further, to her confusion. But true to her empathetic self, she quickly remembered that they had very, very different experiences - and knew better than to continue to convince him.
"I...think we should change the subject. S-should I change the subject?"
"Y-yeah. Yeah, t-that'll be peach."
The two continued to drink & observe the world around them. The speedway had clogged up again in the same manner at the same time they predicted. A run-down toy store, still across the street sandwiched between a new hipster bar and a yoga centre. Wiggle pointed out these idiosyncrasies, bouncing between allegories with the whip-crack instincts of an intellectual's toned mind. From the glacial pace of the city to the warp-speed ferocity of Los Grumpeles and then the deafening & unpredictable wilderness of Snaktooth, she drew connections & conclusions as if they were battle lines on a map of the universe. He nodded, subtly gentle while taking delicate sips, trying to hide the fact that his mind was all but not.
