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  Chapter Twenty Two

  …falling, falling, falling.

  Landing, bouncing, rolling, sliding, stopping.

  It was a good thing whatever I nded on was soft, because I hit it at about a bazillion miles per hour. Horsebutted or not, if the ground had been even a little bit harder, I would have hit it the way a bug hits a windshield going down the highway.

  Somewhere nearby, I heard Ethan groan in pain. "Henry? Are we dead?"

  "If we were dead," I answered, "I wouldn't still have a horse for a butt."

  I heard him shift around a bit, and then his head popped up. "You sound pretty confident that you'd go to heaven.”

  "That…" My voice trailed off. "Okay, fair point."

  "Where are we?" he asked, getting to his feet. The ground was soft and uneven, and his feet sank into it a little with every step. "And what are we standing on? It feels like…rubber? No, pstic!"

  He knelt down to touch it, and—

  "Don't!' I yelled, scrambling to my hooves as fast as I could, and definitely not falling over three times in the attempt. "Don't stick your fingers through it!"

  Ethan jerked his hand back. "What? Why not?"

  "Because it hasn't been processed yet," I answered. "There's no telling what might be in there."

  "What might be…" Ethan squinted at me and shook his head. "You know what? I'll take your word for it."

  "That's a habit you should break immediately," I said, trotting past him and trying to get an idea of where we'd nded.

  "I won't argue with that," Ethan said dryly, "but you still haven't told me where we are."

  I looked at him over my shoulder. "You don't recognize it? You've been here before!"

  "I…have?"

  "Take a deep breath!" I told him with a smirk. "Tell me you don't know exactly where we are!"

  He did—and then immediately started gagging on the stench.

  "Oh, no!" he choked. "Don't tell me…"

  I threw up my arms. "You're standing on an isnd of garbage bags floating in an ocean of trash! Welcome back, Ethan Griggs, to Uncle Junk's Trash…"

  I put my front hoof down, but the ground wasn't there to meet it.

  "…Emporiaaaaaaaah!"

  And for the second time in two minutes, I was falling through a dark, horrible smelling void. Up above, I could hear Ethan calling for me, asking if I was all right—and then the telltale scream of him tumbling down after me.

  This time the journey south was slightly less vertical. The ground was still there, but it had turned into a steep and slippery incline. Most of the ground was still soft, but every once in a while I would hit something hard, like a bicycle or an old blender, buried beneath the soft pstic surface like fossils waiting for an archaeologist to come dig them up.

  Suddenly the squishy trash bags disappeared, and I nded on something hard and cold. A few seconds ter, Ethan nded next to me.

  Then the floor started to move beneath us.

  "Now what?" Ethan demanded.

  We had nded on a conveyor belt. With the hum of worn out gears, it carried us farther into the wonderful wastend. Mountains of trash towered above us on both sides. High up above us, pinpricks of light were blinking in and out of existence—Corners leading to other dimensions. A steady shower of garbage rained down from them, adding to the already monstrous piles. And from somewhere further in, I could hear a voice I would recognize anywhere.

  "My, my, Mr. Moldy Bath Towel! I haven't seen you in years! How are you, my dear friend? Three dolrs and twenty four cents!"

  Ethan groaned. "Not this guy!"

  "Madame Bicycle Horn! Lovely to see you again! How is your family?"

  SQUAWNKA SQUAWNKA! came the reply.

  "So gd to hear it! Seven dolrs and a piece of chewed gum!"

  The conveyor belt took us around a corner, and the owner of the voice came into view. Uncle Junk was tall, and so thin that I sometimes wondered if he even had a ribcage or if there was nothing beneath his skin but spine. He wore a tattered suit, and a filthy top hat that was pulled down to cover everything above his manic, snaggletoothed grin. Holes had been cut into the hat for him to see through, and I saw one of his bulging eyes swivel around to look at me.

  “Ah!” he excimed in delight. “A blue horse, rejected from the glue factory because glue rhymes with blue, and rhyming words don’t stick!”

  Great. He didn’t recognize me. I admit I hadn’t visited him in a while—not since he’d almost gotten Ethan killed by a dragon—but had he actually forgotten me already? I knew that his mental state was…interesting, to say the least, but I had to be jangling around in that nutty noggin of his somewhere. He was my uncle, for crying out loud!

  Then again, he was everyone’s uncle. He’d gone to college for it.

  “It’s me, Uncle Junk!” I yelled.

  He waved cheerfully. “Hello, Me Uncle Junk! What an odd name for a blue horse. Fifteen celery sticks and a kiss!”

  Before I could react, he spped a price sticker onto my horsebutt and shoved me off the conveyor belt. Once again, I went sliding uncontrolbly down a hillside of garbage. Ethan yelled my name and jumped down after me. I looked down, and saw a bright light at the bottom of the slope—and I was heading right for it! I rolled onto my stomach and put my hooves beneath me, trying to stop this descent into madness. For a second, I actually thought I was going to do it. The floor was slick with…well, it was better not to think about it…but my hooves were able to gain enough traction to slow me down. If I could just get my bance back, I thought I could gallop back up the slope and talk some sense into Uncle Junk…

  But then Ethan slid into me, knocking me off my hooves, and down we went together into the light.

  The slope suddenly curved upwards into a ramp, and I scr—I mean, Ethan screamed as the two of us were unched into the air. We crash nded on a shelf, which shattered under the weight of my horsebutt, sending random garbage flying everywhere. I hit the ground a split second ter, and Ethan flopped gracelessly on top of my horse belly, knocking the wind out of my horse lungs but probably saving his life.

  “I HATE THIS PLACE!” he yelled, climbing angrily to his feet.

  I got up too, somehow hurting even worse than when we’d left the hospital, and looked around. We were in Uncle Junk’s shop now. And, judging by the price tag Uncle Junk had put on me, I was for sale.

  “Cleanup on aisle sock puppet!” Uncle Junk yelled, coming around the corner, wearing an apron and carrying a mop with only two strings hanging from it. The moment he saw me, though, he dropped the mop and his face lit up with glee. “Henry Rider! It’s been ages! Come give your uncle a hug!”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. He finally remembered me. Now maybe he’d be able to—

  Uncle Junk rushed forward and threw his arms around Ethan.

  “Henry, help!” Ethan shouted. “He smells like a litter box!”

  I clopped over and tapped Uncle Junk on the shoulder. He looked at me, and tilted his head in confusion.

  “Henry? Why are there two of…” He gnced down at Ethan, then shoved him to the ground. “Oh.”

  Normally I would have ughed at the look on Ethan’s face, but right now even I was getting tired of Uncle Junk’s antics. Every minute we spent here waiting for the st sliver of his sanity to show itself was one minute closer to Cousin Gumdrop killing Con!

  “Now, then,” Uncle Junk said, wiggling his fingers, “how may I ptypus you today?”

  “What the?” Ethan asked.

  “Sometimes he forgets words. Just run with it.” I turned back to the insane store owner. “Uncle Junk, you can ptypus us by using your trash portals to send Ethan and me home!”

  “But of course!” Uncle Junk excimed. “Anything for my favorite niece and nephew! El castillo hinchable de mi abue es el castillo hinchable de tu abue!”

  Going to a nearby wall, Uncle Junk grabbed the shelf that was set against it and threw it out of the way. My eyes went wide as the shelf, which had to have weighed at least two hundred pounds with everything on it, went flying across the room, shattering to pieces when it hit the far wall. Behind where it had been, a doorknob stuck from the wall—but there was no door.

  Uncle Junk turned the knob, then ripped that entire chunk of the wall free.

  “Henry, I’m scared,” Ethan whispered from beside me.

  “I think I am too,” I admitted.

  “Right this way, dies and gentlemen!” Uncle Junk said, bowing elegantly and waving for us to enter.

  Hesitantly, I stepped through the hole he had made, and found myself in a room with a massive metal trash can. It was so big that I, even with my gargantuan horsebutt, could fit inside with room to spare—and I got the feeling that’s exactly what I would have to do.

  “Now, you don’t want to get lost on your way home,” said Uncle Junk as Ethan and I climbed inside, “so all you have to do is jumbotron the mommy frog until you ftulence the choo choo train.”

  Ethan and I shared a look.

  “Did you get that?” Ethan asked.

  “Not in the slightest.”

  "And don’t forget, when the peanut butter is silent, you grasshopper Easter Bunny giggling machine gun spt!"

  I poked my head out of the top of the trash can. “Uncle Junk, wait!”

  But it was too te. Uncle Junk already had his bony fingers wrapped around a lever. He winked at me, then gave it a pull—and with a bang, Ethan and I were bsted out of the trash can like cannonballs.