A Glut in the Colomonies
Welcome to Shineland and How Dooples Get Their Huggles.
Shineland was a balanced and happy-making vision. ‘Happy-making’ because of generated niceness and ‘balanced’ because, sometimes, niceness can only be know-ified next to not-nice-ness, (or when it is, sudden-mently, not there).
Shineland was balanced in this way by the Dooples and the Glut.
Let me elucify…
The Dooples were a curious species known for their need to group together in huge colomonies.
Such colomonies protected them from predar-ators. The tonomy-spines on the Dooples’ backs weren’t very ‘stoppish’ in small numbers but enough of them would easily send a cuzbaat completely spatty-minded.
So, that’s how they lived.
They lived in their happy-ful colomonies, with their tonomy-spines outside-facing, making their shine-booms and switchering.
What’s a shine-boom, I hear you quizzicate?
A shine-boom is made by contrimbutions of smile-pods, each in turn, from the outery-most rims to the middly-bit of the colomony. As each Doodle plipped out a tiny, shiny smile-pod, it was passed to it’s next inner-wards neighbour who added their own tiny pod and passed it on to their next innerwards neighbour… and so on and in-wise.
By the time each added-up clump of smile-pods got to the centrey-most, mibble-most part of the colomny, (the glee-filling-most spot in the colomny!), the smile-pods were puffed and bolished into a magicky, mind-cuddling shine-boom.
Now, a shine-boom looked like your favouritest-ever sweet had been made into your cuddliest-ever toy, twirled-up into the snuggliest cuddle you ever had, then spun into a pure, un-adulted ball of shiny-ness.
As with the niciest of any nicey thing, these shine-booms only lasted a little while because the three middlest Dooples scoobled up and huggled it hard.
As they huggled, the shine-boom dissolved into their hearts and the next outey-most Dooples huggled them and felt the shine hug their hearts, too. And then the next outey-most – then the next – until the huggle of the shine-boom had passed through all the Doople-hearts in the whole colomonery and the shine-boom wiffered away into invisi-viewable tintle-fluff. (The useable-ness of tintle-fluff would take a whole other story-scribbling to describe).
Any-what, with mahoosive chuggles and smirkles, three Dooples from each ring would move into the line frontside of them, then three from that line would do the same and so on until the three mid-most Dooples from the middly-bit would be crowd-surfed to the outer-est ring amid much cheerity and giggle-ness. This shuffling around was called ‘switchering’.
Then, the colomony would start plipping out shine-pods again, eager-fully looking inwards to the next shine-booming heart-huggle.
Now, stories sometimes have sad bits to them.
This is so that we can all apprehend how important happy bits are in life in a proper-most and balancy way.
It is important to know that this one has a sad-full bit, too.
So, make sure you have a tissue rack nearby.
Here it comes…
The Many-Many-Loving Glut
The Glut was a grubbelous creature known for it’s bottom-missing tummy-pit and the need to collect smile-pods to put in it’s frigidum machine which made the smile-pods into shiners for it to hoard. Shiners were a little bit like tiny-tiny shine-booms that only gave brief, emptified, pretended heart-huggles that a Doople would probably mistake for a baby Doople’s pebble-burp (which, while obviately being cutey-ish, were a bit sniffish – so, never precisely what we’d call huggle-y).
However, a frigidum machine could make many-many shiners from a single smile-pod and the Glut firmly believed that ‘many-more-of-things’ was ALWAYS better than ‘not-so-many-of-things’.
(Alas, that was just how the Glut measured worthish-ness and who are we to critipate or blame-icize?).
Now, the Glut had been watching and study-fying the Dooples with great close-ity.
It saw how clumped-up their colomonies were.
It knew how ouchy their tonomy-spines could be if it got sproinked by lot-lots while trying to grab smile-pods.
It also, sometimes, saw a glimpse-peek of an actual shine-boom and saw how happified the Dooples were as it wiffled away in ripplets through the colomony.
“If I get my-selfies a real-ish, actual-ified shine-boom, just think-i-pate how many-many shines I could make out of it in my frigidum machine!”, it murmerlated.
“But, how? How do I get through all those many-many tonomy-spines to grab a shine-boom without getting my whole self spatty-minded like a cuzbaat?”, it quizzdicated to itself.
Then, it’s snippy-minded head plipped out an idea. A very clever-ational thoughtlet…
It knew it would take dates, even munkths, to work… but it would be worth the tick-tocky time.
He felt as sure all the way down to his bungstems as a REALLY sure sureness could feel.
A Glut in the Colomonies: Fair-ity
The Glut began to watch the Dooples long and sharp-like as it wundled on his way past the colomonies each date. It notated their tonomyspines glintering in the sum – all different colourations mixi-fied together like a rain-bridge that had been stirry-stirred up, spirally-wise, (Just so you are knowing, rain-bridges happened when wetsprinkles came down in the sum-light).
“How disorganis-ated!”, it grimbled to itself.
As the Glut watched the Dooples long and sharp-like, it spy-ded, over time, in it’s booklet of notifyings, where it wrote out it’s calculaterings and think-points, that, excepting for colours, Dooples were very-very identical and hard to be picked out as individuated Dooples. This fact, howeverts, gave it an idea…
The Glut snidled up to the nearest colomony and indressed the Dooples on the outer-est rim: “Good-date, smallish ones,” it toned in it’s best formal-ish way, “I have a quizzy nature so, please allow forgivings on my impertitude, I notified that the middy-bit of your colomony seems to be the glee-filling-most spot to be. Do I have that in a rightful way?”
“Why, yes,” murfled the outing-most Dooples, “It does have a nice feelishness to it.” Their voices were slight-ish and moofled because they always had their tonomyspines outward pointing and their speaking-flutes inner-pointing. (For Safety).
“I see…,” the Glut toned again, “It is as obvious as a Beeloopad’s Plonk-notch to anyone that you are a very carey and sharey colomony, so it smacks me as strange that some don’t care that others are not as sharey as… um… others…” the Glut purred.
The outer Dooples made qizzicky noises for a mote, then murmled, “We don’t stand-under what you say. Whatsoever is it that you moan…?”
The Glut frowled in an ‘Oh-well-it’s-none-of-my-beeswax-anyway’’ way and toned once more, “Oh, I’m just idoly spotting in my calculaterings, here, that others get more times in the mibble-most parts that others.”
“…Over a giving period, that is.”, it addered.
It leaneded-in closer in a conspiry way and whisped, ”I’m not colouring colours, but the yellowish-blue ones among you DO seem to get more middy-bit time than any others,” he hiffed, “Secondish only to the reddy-green ones, in factuality,” He furbled, “And, I doubt it matters. Overall, I mean,” he fliffled.
The Glut straightened up, “Like I sprayed before, it’s not my beeswax, of courses… Anyhooos, I’ll just mooch along, now. Good date to you!”
And off he snoodled, in a swaggerish way, listening to moofly hummings and indigg-tant weebles rising in the colomny behind him.
A Glut in the Colomonies: Share-ity
Yes, the Glut watched the Dooples long and sharp-like. It saw how sometimes, just occasion-times, a single Doople might lose rhythm and miss-time a plibbing so that the smile-pod clump went by without the Doople getting to add theirs in. The others around it would nudge and smirk-elate, saying “Better time-catching next switchering, Doopy!”, and all would pro-seedinate normal-wise. The Doople would snarf the smile-pod up again, itself, (and get a little-little shine-hugglet in the proceeds as they did so – like a baby kiss on the cheek).
“Time to continu-ate my clever-ational plan…” it sniddled the verity next date.
As it whumfled up, the Glut notic-ated that the colomony had changed.
In the stead of mixified colourated-ness, the colomony looked more pieced up into seperate hues. Not just that, but, for some reason, (the Glut gleamed to itself), the reddy-greens and yellowish-blue parts seemed to be more pressurised to the outey-most rings more than was usual-ish.
“Good date, diminuated friendies!” it called, “What a summy date for a stroll-tation!”
Without waiting for any answerings, it continue-ised: “I have a noodly little quizzette that I hoped you might clear up for me. I see in my notelettes, here, that, sometimes… just occasion-times… one or other one of your fellows miss the passing of the smile-batch by being late-ish in plibbing out their smile-pod. Now, of natural-course, mistakes happen to us all. My own hatch-mum said, we should be responsive-able for our own mis-takings but, perhap-like, Dooples view things different-wise.”
The outer Dooples made qizzicky noises for a mote, then murmled, “We don’t stand-under what you say. Whatsoever is it that you moan…?”
“Well…” toned the Glut, “Seemingly, Dooples reward-ise mistakings. I mean…”, it worbled on in a sneedling fashion, “A Doople fails to add to the smile-batch, but instead of making up for it’s oopsie, it gets to have a smile-pod-baby-kiss all to itself AND, also, get the nicety of joining in with the unadulted, huggling shine-boom happy-ness along with every other Doople in the colomony when it flows back.”
It leaneded-in closer in a conspiry way and whisped, “That neighbour didn’t help bring about that shine-boom. Is it fair that it gets, not only it’s own baby-kissy smile-pod, but also all huggy shine-boomed with the rest of you, too?”
The Glut straighted-up.
“Well, them’s just my thinkings, anyhooos. None of my beeswax, I’m sure.”
With that, the Glut turned and flumped away, “Good date to you!”
Behind it, the Glut could hear more moofly hummings and louder indigg-tant weebles.
A Glut in the Colomonies: Hue-bows
The next date, as it trundled back to the colomony, the Glut saw, for the very first-est time since ever it was living, one or two INDIVIDAL-ised Dooples wandering or sitting, sad-fully, on the wayside. The Glut dicoverated that these had been sent awry because they mis-timed the plibbing of their smile-pods and were grumbled out of the colonomy for being full-up-of-lazy-tude.
The Glut could barely restrain croobling out-loudish with joy-itude right there on the spot. But it managed hold back the in-pulls and, calm-like, continued it’s trundling.
The colomony looked very much smallerised when the Glut arrived; Smallerised, strickly colour-banded and noising much less than the Glut ever-before recalled.
“Colour-banded,” Smilified the Glut, “Much easier now…” it gleened to itself.
“I was wonderising,” it began at once, “ Why you Dooples are differ-mently colour-clothed in your tonomy-spines.”
There came not the smallest replylette – but the Glut detection-ed very moofle-ated weeblety noises permanating the rings.
“My think-erings make me feel that reason-ings must exist-ify for this phenome-nahnah…” it muse-ated aloud-ly to itself.
It continu-ated: “By your quiet-likeness, I mark that I have come over on a more ‘glummy’ than ‘happy’-type date. I am wish-ering that I could offer some advis-ings to help to ‘happy’ you all up.”
The Glut took a pause to make a quick and sharp-like study of the colomony beneath it.
Noises were few-ish but, occasion-times, could be heard mooey grump-itudes and minor-scale scuffle-ettes among the rings of Dooples. The Glut thought about making a grab for the very next shine-boom – but the middy-bit was just a squidgin too far in to grab without being multi-fully sproinged.
The Glut still had another idea to small-inationalise the colomony a bit more.
As it happened, as it was spying-out, the colomony ripple-ated as anonther shine-boom was huggled into tintle-fluff and the boomy-nice-ness spread out from the middy-bit to the outery-parts.
At the very back of it’s memory box, the Glut might have recall-erised that such shine-boom moments used to be more happy-ish, glow-ified and… well… ‘boomy’ than this one seemed to be, now. How-everest, it was distractipated by it’s proudness over the next bitty-part of it’s cleverish plannerizing.
“On the subjecting of tonomy-spine colourising,” the Glut flumed on, weavering it’s lie-tale, “I notice other colomonies on my way here that are huddle-upping together only Dooples of the same-wise hue. My, my, the laugh-atating and merry-ish noises that flute their way out from these colomoneries is almost deaf-making, I can tell you!”
The Glut wurbled on, shaking it’s bloat-beard in pretend-wonder, “And the shine-booms… Oh, the shine-booms they produce! I see-ded a whole-full colomonery almost jumple to the height of a rimpberry tree-house! My, oh, my, yes, I actaulity did!”
“Ah, well,” the Glut fliffed, dismiss-eratingly, “’Tis not on my plate to be advis-ering Dooples how to run out their colomonies. I’ll take my leavings now. Cheery-hose!”
And off the Glut wumbled, (to renewed soundings of moofly hummings and indigg-tant weebles from the colomony).
It grimmed to itself all the way home-bound.
Well, mostly the ending.
As you can be guessing, after the Glut had played it’s splitty game, the colomonies shrink-ted up a whole lot. Shrivel-ated to a size that the Glut could grab shine-booms with ease, any-many-times it wanted.
The frigidum machines whappled out more shiners than the Glut could ever-ever need in it’s own living time.
Truth-wise, the shine-booms were tiny-tiny items now – hardly shiny at all. The colomonies had so few-few Dooples, contrimabuting so fewish smile-pods that they had the lacking of anthing like the ooomphing, happy-tude of the shine-booms of the past.
The Glut had no caring for this factor.
As was spoken before, the Glut always thought that ‘many-more-of-things’ was always better than ‘not-so-many-of-things’ – but, not-so-many-things such as Dooples’ tonomy-spines was good.
The Glut was content. And, who are we to say that should not be so…?
The world of Shineland changed.
Every livering thing sawed it, feeled it, sniffled it. But few spoke it.
Some livering things pretended it was all as same-ish as before, just to feel better and sleep nicely.
Some livering things looked for reasonings as to why but gave up and made their own dream-headed reasonings up. Or joined the pretenderers.
Some livering things kept a-spying and investigamerating, finding clues here and there until they knew many factuals.
Some of these dis-appear-ated in mystifull circumstances before they could say what they had founded.
Some of these tried to tell others but many-many wanted to be left alone-some to follo the mysticful faith of Pretender-ating-some-more-until-it-all-gets-better-on-its-own.
Others didn’t want their head-dreams changed by factualities and even violetly buffetted the fact-showers away because such factettes made their feelers hurt too much.
Some livering things thought there were more importer-nant things to be worry-some about, like tonomy-spine colours, what kind of huggle others prefered, how hard to buffet others if they don’t think the same as you or how hard to cry-out to get others to buffet those who hurt your feels.
Whatever each livering thing did doesn’t much matter, now.
Yes, Doople colomonies divinated into smally-small colomony-ettes of simple-single hue.
Reddy-green Doople colomonies didn’t trust Yellowish-blue ones.
Bluey-pink ones vented dislikings at Greeny-orange ones.
Orangy ones would forever say that Purply ones were all-stinky-always.
The only thing that made colomonies same-wise was the factioid that none of the colomonies could tell you quite where the hostile-hearted feelerings truly came from.
To the Dooples, this was just how things were. And always will be, amen.