Turning to Stone 3: Acceptance (Rewritten)

Epilogue: Pickle

Jolthead was, to put it simply, quite busy these days.

Like their namesake, they valued knowledge, but instead of using it for their own experiments, they enjoyed teaching others much more. That's why they taught at the Tribal Island School, to bring knowledge to the young monsters.

But seeing other young monsters made them wonder. It gave them a sense of longing. Most Wubboxes, especially ones who lived on Wublin Island like they did, carved and raised at least one Wublin. Ephex, a good friend and fellow teacher, already had her Wublin carved, a fine Thwok known as Thrum. Jolthead had met the kid a couple of times, he was always very polite, especially for a one year old.

"Maybe he'll be best friends with your Wublin! You are carving one, right?" She'd ask them. This time though, they'd made their decision. They knew what Wublin to carve. A Pixolotl, for they were always fond of their noises and green color.

They made the statue during the time they spent back on Wublin Island, when they weren't at school teaching. Yet during the carving process, they added their own touches. They wanted a kid that could live for the sake of living, not just for playing music, so they made the front limbs a bit longer and the back limbs a bit smaller. They forgot to add the typical whiskers, but they thought it gave the statue a youthful charm anyways. They made it smaller than most, so the Pixolotl might end up a bit on the shorter side.

Yet when they showed their work to the island's leader, a grumpy old Brump known as just "Brump", he seemed extremely displeased. "It's deformed. Destroy it, and make a new one." Jolthead tried to point out that other Wublins had their features, even completely normal Thrum had a more pointed and differently colored tongue than most (It had an uncanny resemblance to the bisexual flag, which made the Wubbox wonder a bit) but Brump simply wouldn't listen.

Jolthead wouldn't listen to him either, then. They flew to the other islands and gathered the eggs anyways.

The zapping process, days later, was rather uneventful. Or at least it would be for most, but this was Jolthead's first Wublin that they had created. It feels like I have to make at least one, I can't just be named after the Creator themself and not carve at least one Wublin.

They set the statue up in the Creator's room, where they lived. The zapping would work, even underground, it was part of the magic of the Wublin waking. The Wubbox concentrated their power, focusing on nothing else but bringing new life into the world.

The room was quickly covered in dust, almost making them regret doing this inside. But as the dust settled, they spotted the young Wublin shaking dust off themself and looking around with bright eyes, square, cobalt pupils taking in everything around them.

They looked almost exactly as Jolthead had carved them, except now they were a lot more colorful. Their tail especially, for it shined with all shades of the rainbow, each segment a new color different from the last. They were incredible, and Jolthead couldn't have been happier. They didn't care how different their Wublin was, this was their child now.

They were a father.

They reached a hand out to the little lizard, and they grabbed a finger with their tiny baby hands, cooing and beeping adorably. Jolthead had some experience with children, but never any this young.

"Hello. Your name is Pickle, and you can call me Wubbox."

The End