Dr. Altmanstein’s Carnivorous Plant Discovers Civilization. Civilization Demands a Refund.

The morning after Bernie Madman’s disastrous visit to Castle IGORITHMS, the village awoke to a mystery.

A car had disappeared.

Not just any car.

A very expensive black Mercedes belonging to Bernie Madman, the disgraced financial genius whose revolutionary Ponzistein Strategy had collapsed faster than a soufflé in an earthquake.

The financial catastrophe had begun with the Ponzistein Strategy, Dr. Altmanstein’s latest attempt to turn questionable accounting into a scientific breakthrough. Bernie Madman had escaped with his dignity barely intact. His Mercedes had been considerably less fortunate.

All that remained outside the castle gates were four tires, a bent license plate, a leather briefcase covered in digestive slime, and a single hubcap bearing what appeared to be enormous bite marks.

Constable Higgins examined the evidence.

He scratched his head.

He examined the tires.

Then he looked toward the castle.

“Oh, bloody hell.”

He reached for his police radio.

“Inspector Graves? You’re going to want to see this.”

---

The Great Botanical Escape

Inside Castle IGORITHMS, Igor was conducting his morning greenhouse inspection.

This involved watering three dead geraniums, arguing with a cactus, and checking that F.A.N.G., the Doctor’s experimental carnivorous plant, had not eaten anything important overnight.

Unfortunately, F.A.N.G. was missing.

Ever since the day the garden bit back, everyone at Castle IGORITHMS had understood that F.A.N.G. was no ordinary Venus flytrap. The Doctor considered him a triumph of botanical engineering. Abby considered him a disaster waiting to happen. The greenhouse gate had apparently reached the same conclusion.

His enormous reinforced enclosure stood empty.

The steel gate had been ripped from its hinges.

A trail of purple slime led across the greenhouse floor, through the courtyard, and out toward the village.

Igor stared at the destruction.

Then he noticed a handwritten sign attached to the broken gate.

PLEASE KEEP GATE CLOSED.

PLANT MAY BITE.

Underneath, someone had added:

PLANT MAY ALSO EAT GATE.

Igor swallowed.

“Mathter?”

No answer.

“MAAAATHTER!”

Dr. Samuel Altmanstein appeared in the greenhouse wearing his laboratory coat, slippers, and an expression of scientific superiority.

“WHAT IS IT, IGOR? CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BUSY?”

“Fang ith gone!”

“IMPOSSIBLE!”

Igor pointed at the empty enclosure.

“Then who ate the gate?”

Altmanstein examined the damage.

“REMARKABLE!”

“Mathter?”

“MY EXPERIMENT HAS DEVELOPED INDEPENDENT MOBILITY!”

Abby Normal hurried into the greenhouse.

“Doctor, Fang developed independent mobility last week. That’s why we built the enclosure.”

“DETAILS, ABBY!”

“Doctor, he’s loose!”

“HE’S EXPLORING!”

“He’s a twenty-foot carnivorous plant with teeth the size of kitchen knives!”

“AN EXCELLENT DESCRIPTION OF HIS ADVANCED BOTANICAL CAPABILITIES!”

Abby followed the trail of slime toward the open courtyard gate.

“Doctor, that trail leads straight into the village.”

Altmanstein smiled proudly.

“THEN HE’S DEVELOPING SOCIAL SKILLS!”

From somewhere beyond the castle walls came the sound of a car alarm.

Then a metallic crunch.

Then silence.

Abby closed her eyes.

“Doctor, I think he’s hungry.”

“GOOD! A HEALTHY APPETITE IS THE SIGN OF A HEALTHY PLANT!”

---

The Village Flower Show

Three miles away, the village of Little Grimley was preparing for its most important social event of the year.

The Annual Flower and Horticultural Show.

For sixty-three consecutive years, the village had gathered in the town square to celebrate roses, chrysanthemums, begonias, vegetable marrows, and the occasional scandal involving suspiciously oversized pumpkins.

At the center of the festivities stood a magnificent silver-and-gold trophy.

THE GOLDEN TROWEL.

It was awarded annually to the finest horticultural specimen in the village.

For the past eleven years, the trophy had been won by Mrs. Agatha Pemberton, president of the Little Grimley Horticultural Society.

Mrs. Pemberton was seventy-eight years old, five feet two inches tall, and possessed the terrifying authority of a woman who had once disqualified the village mayor for entering a supermarket tomato.

She wore a floral dress, a broad-brimmed gardening hat, white gloves, and an expression suggesting that every flower in the village was personally answerable to her.

“Those roses are crooked,” she announced.

A nervous contestant adjusted his display.

“And those begonias are disgraceful.”

Another contestant hurried away.

Mrs. Pemberton approached the judging table.

“Where is the mayor?”

“Still preparing his speech, Mrs. Pemberton.”

“Hmph. Last year he spoke for forty minutes. Half the dahlias wilted.”

Then she noticed something unusual approaching from the far end of the square.

A towering mass of green vegetation.

Enormous purple thorns.

Tangled roots moving like muscular tentacles.

And a gigantic red mouth lined with gleaming white fangs.

Mrs. Pemberton adjusted her spectacles.

“My goodness.”

The creature stopped beside the flower displays.

It sniffed a hanging basket.

Then swallowed it whole.

Mrs. Pemberton’s eyes widened.

“What an extraordinary specimen!”

---

The Uninvited Contestant

F.A.N.G. lumbered into the center of the flower show.

Several villagers applauded.

They assumed it was an elaborate mechanical exhibit.

One man took a photograph.

A little boy offered it a biscuit.

F.A.N.G. ate the biscuit.

Then the boy’s bicycle.

“Mother!” shouted the boy. “The plant ate my bike!”

“Nonsense, Timothy. Plants don’t eat bicycles.”

A loud crunch followed.

Mrs. Pemberton marched toward the creature.

“Who is responsible for this magnificent Venus flytrap?”

Nobody answered.

She circled it, examining its purple spines.

“Extraordinary coloration. Remarkable structural development. Very unusual root system.”

F.A.N.G. opened its enormous jaws.

Mrs. Pemberton leaned forward.

“Excellent dental formation.”

She removed a dead fly from a small tin.

“Here you are, my lovely.”

F.A.N.G. stared at the fly.

Then at Mrs. Pemberton.

Then at her enormous gardening hat.

CHOMP!

The hat disappeared.

Mrs. Pemberton stood perfectly still.

Her gray hair fluttered in the breeze.

There was a long silence.

Then she raised one gloved finger.

“Young plant.”

F.A.N.G. leaned closer.

“That was a very expensive hat.”

F.A.N.G. burped.

Mrs. Pemberton’s expression hardened.

“You have absolutely no manners.”

The creature swallowed her handbag.

“AND YOU WILL GIVE THAT BACK!”

---

Inspector Graves’ Romantic Breakfast

Across the square, Inspector Arthur Graves was enjoying what he had hoped would be a peaceful breakfast with Abby Normal.

They sat at a little outdoor café beneath a striped umbrella.

There were fresh croissants, two cups of coffee, and a small vase of roses on the table.

For once, nobody was exploding.

Ever since Inspector Graves fell for Abby Normal, the couple had been struggling to enjoy a single uninterrupted romantic outing. Between laboratory explosions, mysterious bank transfers, and Dr. Altmanstein’s endless emergencies, a quiet breakfast had become an almost impossible luxury.

Nobody was screaming.

And nobody had mentioned Dr. Altmanstein for nearly twenty minutes.

Graves took Abby’s hand.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“That sounds serious.”

“It is.”

Abby smiled.

“Go on.”

“I was wondering whether you might consider spending a weekend somewhere quiet.”

“How quiet?”

“No laboratories. No police emergencies. No electrical fires.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“No Igor.”

“Even better.”

“And absolutely no Dr. Altmanstein.”

Abby laughed.

“Arthur, are you proposing a holiday or witness protection?”

“Whichever is easier to arrange.”

He leaned toward her.

She leaned toward him.

And just as their lips were about to meet—

CRASH!

A flower stand flew across the square.

A woman screamed.

A bicycle wheel rolled past their table.

Graves slowly closed his eyes.

“No.”

Abby turned around.

“Oh, dear.”

Graves opened one eye.

“Please tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”

F.A.N.G. emerged from behind the village fountain carrying an entire park bench in its mouth.

Abby sighed.

“Arthur, I can explain.”

Graves stared at her.

“Of course you can.”

His police radio crackled.

“Inspector! Giant carnivorous plant attacking the flower show!”

Graves picked up the radio.

“Yes, Higgins. I can see it.”

“What should we do, sir?”

Graves watched F.A.N.G. swallow a municipal trash can.

“Whatever you do, don’t feed it.”

A pause.

“Too late, sir. It’s eaten the mayor’s lunch.”

Graves looked at Abby.

“Remind me why I didn’t become a librarian.”

---

The Mayor Declares an Emergency

Mayor Percival Wimple was halfway through his opening speech when F.A.N.G. reached the judging platform.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me tremendous pleasure to welcome you to the sixty-fourth annual—”

CHOMP!

The microphone vanished.

“—flower and horticultural—”

CRUNCH!

The lectern disappeared.

“—SHOW!”

The mayor jumped backward.

F.A.N.G. swallowed the ceremonial ribbon.

Then the judging table.

Then the Golden Trowel.

The crowd gasped.

Mrs. Pemberton screamed.

“MY TROPHY!”

Mayor Wimple pointed at the creature.

“ARREST THAT PLANT!”

Inspector Graves arrived with Constable Higgins.

Higgins pulled out his handcuffs.

Then stared at F.A.N.G.’s enormous roots.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Higgins?”

“Where do I put the handcuffs?”

Graves examined the plant.

“I’m open to suggestions.”

Higgins looked at the roots again.

“Perhaps we could charge it with disturbing the peace?”

“It’s eaten half the town square.”

“Criminal damage?”

“That’s a start.”

F.A.N.G. wrapped a root around the village fountain.

The fountain tilted.

Water sprayed across the crowd.

Mayor Wimple climbed onto a bench.

“I DEMAND THAT SOMEONE TAKE CONTROL OF THIS SITUATION!”

The bench disappeared into F.A.N.G.’s mouth.

The mayor found himself sitting on the pavement.

Mrs. Pemberton marched toward Graves.

“Inspector! That monstrosity has eaten my hat, my handbag, and eleven years of horticultural supremacy!”

Graves nodded.

“I’ll include that in the report.”

“And I want it disqualified!”

“From the flower show?”

“OBVIOUSLY!”

---

Dr. Altmanstein Saves the Day

At that precise moment, a battered castle delivery truck screeched into the square.

The doors flew open.

Dr. Altmanstein emerged wearing a white laboratory coat, enormous protective goggles, and a gold medal he had apparently awarded himself.

Igor climbed out carrying a watering can.

Skankella stepped down from the passenger seat, cigarette holder in hand.

She surveyed the destruction.

“Wonderful. We’ve brought the greenhouse to town.”

Altmanstein spread his arms.

“CITIZENS OF LITTLE GRIMLEY!”

Everyone turned.

“YOU ARE WITNESSING A REVOLUTION IN MODERN HORTICULTURE!”

Mayor Wimple struggled to his feet.

“YOUR PLANT HAS DESTROYED MY FLOWER SHOW!”

“THEN YOU SHOULD THANK ME!”

“THANK YOU?”

“YES! YOUR ATTENDANCE FIGURES HAVE NEVER BEEN HIGHER!”

Abby hurried toward the Doctor.

“Doctor, we have to get Fang back to the castle!”

“ABBY! YOU’RE INTERRUPTING A HISTORIC SCIENTIFIC MOMENT!”

“Doctor, he’s eating the fountain!”

“EXCELLENT! HE’S DEVELOPING AN APPRECIATION FOR PUBLIC ART!”

Skankella looked at the wreckage.

“At this rate, Doctor, he’ll be elected mayor by lunchtime.”

Mayor Wimple turned purple.

“THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!”

Altmanstein pointed toward F.A.N.G.

“BEHOLD! EXPERIMENT NUMBER THIRTEEN! F.A.N.G.!”

Mrs. Pemberton stepped forward.

“Fang?”

Igor smiled proudly.

“Ferothious Alien Nocthurnal Growth!”

Abby sighed.

“Ferocious Alien Nocturnal Growth.”

Mrs. Pemberton examined the creature.

“It’s not alien.”

“NOT YET!” thundered Altmanstein.

“And it’s broad daylight.”

“TWO OUT OF FOUR IS A REMARKABLE SUCCESS RATE!”

F.A.N.G. swallowed a parking meter.

Skankella exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“Three out of four if you count municipal destruction.”

---

Igor’s Secret Weapon

The Doctor ordered Igor to prepare the emergency botanical tranquilizer.

Igor hurried back to the truck and returned with a large watering can.

Abby sniffed the contents.

“Igor, what’s in that?”

“Bat thoup!”

Abby stared.

“Bat soup?”

“Yeth! My famouth recipe!”

Skankella backed away.

“Good God. Even the plant deserves better.”

Igor beamed.

“Fang hateth bat thoup!”

Abby looked alarmed.

“Then why are you giving it to him?”

“To calm him down!”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Neither doth the Mathter, but we keep him around!”

Altmanstein snatched the watering can.

“STAND BACK! I SHALL DEMONSTRATE ADVANCED BOTANICAL BEHAVIORAL CONTROL!”

He hurled the contents toward F.A.N.G.

The plant froze.

Its purple spines stiffened.

Its enormous jaws opened.

A terrible gurgling sound emerged from its throat.

For one hopeful moment, everyone thought the creature was calming down.

Then F.A.N.G. roared.

Its roots whipped across the square.

A flower cart overturned.

A telephone booth toppled.

The village clock stopped at precisely eleven forty-three.

F.A.N.G. lunged toward the town hall.

“RUN!” shouted Graves.

The crowd scattered.

Altmanstein stood proudly amid the chaos.

“REMARKABLE! THE TRANQUILIZER HAS INCREASED HIS METABOLIC ACTIVITY!”

Abby grabbed his arm.

“Doctor, you’ve made him worse!”

“IMPOSSIBLE! SCIENTIFICALLY SPEAKING, THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS WORSE! ONLY MORE INTERESTING!”

Skankella ducked beneath a flying garden gnome.

“Then congratulations, Doctor. Things are getting very interesting.”

---

The Siege of Town Hall

F.A.N.G. wrapped its enormous roots around the town hall.

Windows shattered.

The front doors buckled.

Mayor Wimple, who had fled upstairs, appeared at a second-floor window.

“HELP!”

Graves shouted through a megaphone.

“Mr. Mayor! Stay where you are!”

“WHERE ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO GO?”

F.A.N.G. began climbing the building.

Its jaws opened beneath the mayor’s window.

Constable Higgins turned to Graves.

“Sir, should we call the fire brigade?”

“Already done.”

“The army?”

“Considering it.”

“The Royal Horticultural Society?”

Graves looked at him.

“Higgins, I don’t think they’re equipped for this.”

Mrs. Pemberton appeared beside them.

“Inspector, I have a suggestion.”

“Yes?”

“Prune it.”

Graves stared at the twenty-foot monster.

“With what?”

Mrs. Pemberton opened her gardening bag.

She produced a pair of tiny pruning shears.

Graves sighed.

“Thank you, Mrs. Pemberton. I’ll keep that in reserve.”

A root smashed through the town hall’s front window.

The mayor screamed.

---

The Mayor Calls in Herbie Side

Then Mayor Wimple suddenly remembered something.

“INSPECTOR! I KNOW SOMEONE WHO CAN HANDLE THIS!”

Graves looked up.

“Who?”

“My old friend Herbie Side!”

Graves frowned.

“Herbie Side?”

“THE FINEST EXTERMINATOR IN THE COUNTY!”

Abby looked concerned.

“Mayor, Fang isn’t an insect.”

“NONSENSE! HERBIE CAN KILL ANYTHING WITH SIX LEGS!”

“Fang doesn’t have legs,” Abby explained. “He has roots.”

“THEN HE CAN KILL ANYTHING WITH ROOTS!”

Twenty minutes later, a battered green van screeched into the village square.

Painted on its side were the words:

HERBIE SIDE PEST CONTROL

If It Crawls, Flies, Creeps, or Bites — Herbie Sprays It!

Out stepped Herbert “Herbie” Side, a thin, wiry man wearing rubber boots, thick goggles, and an enormous tank strapped to his back.

He carried a long metal spraying wand.

“Right!” Herbie announced. “Where’s the little bugger?”

F.A.N.G. emerged from behind the ruined fountain.

Herbie looked up.

And up.

And up.

“Bloody hell. That’s a big weed.”

Mayor Wimple shouted from the window.

“HERBIE! DO SOMETHING!”

Herbie adjusted his goggles.

“Stand back, everybody! I’ve got enough herbicide here to kill every dandelion in Yorkshire!”

Dr. Altmanstein rushed forward.

“YOU CANNOT SPRAY MY CREATION!”

Herbie shrugged.

“Then tell your creation to stop eating the village.”

“HE’S A SCIENTIFIC BREAKTHROUGH!”

“He’s a bloody cabbage with dentures!”

Skankella nodded approvingly.

“I like this man.”

Herbie raised his spraying wand.

“Right, you overgrown salad! Have a taste of this!”

He squeezed the trigger.

A powerful stream of herbicide shot toward F.A.N.G.

The enormous plant opened its jaws.

CHOMP!

The entire spraying wand disappeared.

Herbie stared at the empty hose in his hands.

“Oh.”

F.A.N.G. leaned forward.

CHOMP!

The hose vanished.

Herbie began backing away.

“Now, there’s no need to get excited…”

F.A.N.G. opened its mouth again.

CHOMP!

The enormous tank disappeared from Herbie’s back, straps and all.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then F.A.N.G. swallowed.

Its purple spines began glowing bright green.

A low rumble emerged from its stomach.

Abby stared in horror.

“Doctor! Fang just swallowed an entire tank of concentrated herbicide!”

Altmanstein’s eyes widened.

“EXTRAORDINARY!”

“Doctor, it could kill him!”

“NONSENSE, ABBY! HE’S DEVELOPING CHEMICAL RESISTANCE!”

F.A.N.G. belched.

A thick green cloud drifted across the square.

Every weed growing between the cobblestones instantly withered.

Mrs. Pemberton examined the ground.

“Well,” she admitted reluctantly, “that’s quite effective.”

Herbie looked at his ruined equipment.

“That’s six hundred quid’s worth of sprayer!”

Skankella glanced at the enormous glowing plant.

“Send him a bill. I’m sure he’ll chew it over.”

Inspector Graves rubbed his forehead.

“Herbie, I think you’ve done enough.”

Herbie removed his goggles.

“Inspector, in thirty years of pest control, I’ve never had a pest eat the pesticide.”

Igor smiled proudly.

“Mathter! Fang ith now weed-proof!”

Altmanstein threw his arms into the air.

“ANOTHER TRIUMPH FOR IGORITHMS!”

F.A.N.G. roared.

Its roots tightened around Town Hall.

Mayor Wimple screamed.

“HE’S GETTING WORSE!”

Graves turned to Abby.

“Please tell me the Doctor has another plan.”

Abby looked at Altmanstein, who was already scribbling notes for a patent application.

“No, Arthur. But apparently we’re about to revolutionize weed control.”

---

MONSTER Makes a Friend

And just then, from the far side of the square, MONSTER 1.0 appeared.

Carrying a cookie.

Nobody noticed him approaching F.A.N.G.

The creature towered above him, its enormous purple spines now glowing an unnatural green.

Its jaws opened wide enough to swallow a refrigerator.

MONSTER looked up.

“Bad plant.”

F.A.N.G. hissed.

MONSTER took another step.

“No eat people.”

The plant lowered its head.

MONSTER held up the cookie.

“Want?”

F.A.N.G. hesitated.

Its roots loosened around the town hall.

The mayor stopped screaming.

MONSTER gently patted one enormous purple spine.

“Good plant.”

F.A.N.G. made a low rumbling sound.

Then slowly released the building.

Its jaws closed.

Its roots withdrew.

And the most dangerous botanical experiment in the history of Little Grimley sat obediently beside MONSTER 1.0.

Like an enormous green puppy.

The crowd stared.

Inspector Graves lowered his megaphone.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

Abby smiled.

“Oh, Arthur! Look at them!”

Graves shook his head.

“I don’t understand it.”

“MONSTER has always been gentle.”

“Yes, but why is that thing afraid of him?”

Altmanstein strode forward.

“BECAUSE MY CREATION RECOGNIZES THE SUPERIOR GENETIC ENGINEERING OF MY OTHER CREATION!”

Skankella folded her arms.

“Or maybe it’s frightened of anything uglier than itself.”

Igor looked offended.

“Then why ithn’t it afraid of me?”

Skankella examined him.

“Give it time.”

MONSTER sniffed the air.

Then looked at F.A.N.G.

“Plant need bath.”

F.A.N.G. burped.

A faint green vapor escaped its mouth.

MONSTER wrinkled his nose.

“And breath mint.”

As the crowd gathered around the subdued plant, MONSTER quietly lowered one hand.

Beneath his sleeve, a tiny green indicator blinked once.

Then disappeared.

On a remote terminal deep inside Castle IGORITHMS, a message briefly appeared:

PROJECT M — REMOTE INTERVENTION COMPLETE.

BIOLOGICAL SUBJECT SECURED.

PUBLIC EXPOSURE: MINIMAL.

Nobody saw it.

MONSTER scratched F.A.N.G. behind one purple thorn.

“Plant go home.”

F.A.N.G. obediently followed.

---

The Golden Trowel Controversy

By late afternoon, the village square resembled a battlefield.

The fountain was destroyed.

The flower displays were gone.

The town hall required extensive repairs.

And the mayor was demanding compensation.

Inspector Graves presented Dr. Altmanstein with a preliminary damage assessment.

€487,000.

Altmanstein stared at the figure.

“OUTRAGEOUS!”

Abby nodded.

“I know, Doctor. The damage is terrible.”

“NO, ABBY! THE VILLAGE SHOULD BE PAYING ME FOR THE PUBLICITY!”

Mayor Wimple nearly fainted.

“PUBLICITY?”

“YES! YOUR LITTLE FLOWER SHOW WILL BE INTERNATIONAL NEWS!”

Mrs. Pemberton marched forward.

“And what about my Golden Trowel?”

Altmanstein smiled.

“AH, YES! THE TROPHY!”

“Your plant ate it!”

“THEN HE WON FIRST PRIZE!”

“He most certainly did not!”

“HE DEFEATED EVERY OTHER CONTESTANT!”

“HE ATE EVERY OTHER CONTESTANT’S FLOWERS!”

“EXACTLY! A DECISIVE VICTORY!”

Igor clapped enthusiastically.

“Mathter! Doth that make Fang an award-winning plant?”

“OF COURSE, IGOR!”

Skankella lit another cigarette.

“Wonderful. Our garden has a criminal record and a trophy.”

Mrs. Pemberton pointed a trembling finger at Altmanstein.

“Doctor, I am banning you and your experiments from every future horticultural event in Little Grimley!”

Altmanstein puffed out his chest.

“YOUR LOSS, MADAM!”

“AND I WANT MY HAT BACK!”

F.A.N.G. burped.

Mrs. Pemberton closed her eyes.

“Never mind.”

Herbie Side approached, carrying the remains of his empty sprayer straps.

“And what about my six hundred quid?”

Altmanstein waved dismissively.

“SEND THE INVOICE TO OUR FINANCE DEPARTMENT!”

“Where’s that?”

Igor raised his hand.

“In a thhoebox, thir!”

Herbie stared at him.

Skankella smiled.

“Welcome to Castle IGORITHMS accounting.”

---

A Quiet Evening at the Castle

That evening, the castle staff gathered in the laboratory.

F.A.N.G. had been returned to a newly reinforced greenhouse enclosure.

The Doctor was composing a press release.

IGORITHMS EXPERIMENT WINS PRESTIGIOUS INTERNATIONAL HORTICULTURAL AWARD.

Abby read the headline.

“Doctor, the Golden Trowel is a village gardening prize.”

“ALL INTERNATIONAL AWARDS BEGIN SOMEWHERE, ABBY!”

“You weren’t even entered.”

“THAT MAKES OUR VICTORY EVEN MORE IMPRESSIVE!”

Igor entered carrying a large metal bucket.

“Mathter! Fang ith thafe!”

“EXCELLENT!”

“And I found thomething!”

He tipped the bucket onto the laboratory table.

Out fell a bent bicycle bell, three silver teaspoons, a parking meter, Mrs. Pemberton’s handbag, and the mayor’s ceremonial ribbon.

Abby stared.

“Igor, where did you get those?”

“Fang gave them back!”

Skankella looked into the bucket.

“Anything else?”

Igor shook his head.

“Jutht a little thomething thiny.”

He reached inside and pulled out a half-digested gold-and-silver trophy.

THE GOLDEN TROWEL.

Altmanstein seized it triumphantly.

“BEHOLD! PROOF OF OUR VICTORY!”

Abby sighed.

“Doctor, we have to return that.”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! IT SHALL TAKE ITS RIGHTFUL PLACE IN THE IGORITHMS HALL OF SCIENTIFIC ACHIEVEMENT!”

Skankella examined the trophy.

“Right next to the dehydrated water and the exploding toaster?”

“EXACTLY!”

Across the room, MONSTER 1.0 sat quietly beside F.A.N.G.’s enclosure.

He held up a cookie.

“Good plant.”

F.A.N.G. lowered its head.

MONSTER broke the cookie in half.

“One for Monster.”

He offered the other half to the plant.

“One for plant.”

F.A.N.G. gently accepted it.

For a moment, the two creatures sat together in peaceful silence.

Then the plant made a strange metallic coughing sound.

CLANG!

A shiny object shot from its mouth and bounced across the floor.

It rolled to a stop at MONSTER’s feet.

Bernie Madman’s missing Mercedes hood ornament.

MONSTER picked it up.

He examined it carefully.

Then looked at F.A.N.G.

“Plant need better diet.”

F.A.N.G. gave a small, green, herbicide-scented burp.

MONSTER considered this.

“Plant need doctor.”

From the other side of the laboratory came Dr. Altmanstein’s triumphant voice.

“IGOR! PREPARE THE GREENHOUSE! TOMORROW WE BEGIN EXPERIMENT NUMBER FOURTEEN!”

Abby froze.

“Doctor, what exactly is Experiment Fourteen?”

Altmanstein grinned.

“AN ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE DETECTOR!”

MONSTER quietly finished his cookie.

“Monster not worried.”

And somewhere deep inside Castle IGORITHMS, a computer screen flickered.

PROJECT M — ACTIVE.

---

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