Chapter 39: In the mega sludge.
THE ROYAL TWIT screamed bloody murder, a sound that ripped through the swamp like tearing canvas. Nigel, though irritated, conceded it was a correct takeaway from the situation. The foul, green muck, now clinging to the silly sod, delivered a doozy of a chemical burn. Nigel remembered his own brother had screamed when he stepped into this marsh—a sound that woke a night pilchard from its slumber.
Still, the yippy Dagerstanteen needed to stuff a sock in it. The delinters, already agitated, spun into a proper tizzy, their deep-throated rumbling growing louder. Couldn't the chap see how his howling inflamed them?
“I'm going to die! Is this how I die? Oh-my-stars. This is the end! Nothing about this is a myth or urban legend. This place is Hell! I'm sure o
