Her laughter and terror now kicked away, Elodie remembered an important fact. The most legendary pudding-connoisseur of all Canada was buried, but alive in a hole two meters behind her. If any mortal was qualified perform this ghastly task, it was Rika. But was someone with such an affinity to an evil substance as pudding trustworthy? There was no time to ponder this.
Elodie, in her newfound alertness, leapt backwards through the air, flipping three times and dropping the Leprechonian spoon into Rika’s pit as she passed over it.
As it happened, this astounding feat of acrobatics was completely unnecessary. Rika was so thoroughly attuned to the True Spirit of Pudding that she had already begun to take it into herself it without a utensil of any kind. She had been in a trance of Chtorgvinektonug worship, like all the others, but despite her lack of consciousness and her mouth being occupied by mindless chanting, the surrounding toffenous muck of her pit had begun to become part of her. She had grown, not as a fat person grows, but in a way more resembling a tree, in all directions. Also like a growing tree, the pudding had made her body harder and stronger. Elodie estimated that Rika would soon be as large and pudding-powerful as her former pet and current idol.
“You are our last hope, Rika! You must eat all the pudding and defeat the evil ex-puppy!” she shouted louder than she probably needed to. If only it was that simple.