ClickLock

The artificial light glinted off of broken ceramic jars and shiny green jellybeans as the gremlin cackled and stuffed his face with jellybeans in the corner, his bumpy head and fuzzy ears almost disappearing in the mound of candy.

In the room’s center, kneeling amid the rubble and chaos, the poor shop boy shivered and clutched a small wooden chest on which a broken lock testified to the earlier happenings of the day.

“BOY! I left you in charge for twenty minutes and the shop is ruined! What happened?” Uncle Sal came barreling in the dangling glass door, barely avoiding being hit as the precariously hinged pieces finished separating. “OH MY EYE! I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH THAT THING! Why would you unlock the box??”

“I…I…” Jeremy could do nothing but babble and point to the thing in the corner, still gobbling up green jellybeans and glass together.

“Yes, he’s a Gremlin. Useless boy.” Uncle Sal kicked debris out of his way as he walked over to the offending area, “ClickLock!” He announced to the gremlin (At least that’s what it sounded like to Jeremy) “It is good to see you my old friend!”

“And I you,” The Gremlin (ClickLock?), said in perfect English, “Though I wish that this were not how we met again!”

“No, I suppose we won’t get much time to catch up,” Uncle Sal sighed and glared at Jeremy once again, “I’m sorry, I thought I had explained the importance of that box to my nephew, but he’s a dunderhead.”

“IT WASN’T ME!” Jeremy finally came to himself enough to tire of his uncle’s accusations. “There was a pair of oddly dressed men, one super tall and one very short, that came in here in capes and ball caps. The tall one spun around the room for a minute with a fish locator, pointed at the secret wall, and crowed like raven or something. Then the short one shot a laser at the wall, pulled the box through, popped the lid, and ran off with whatever was inside…then your little scaly friend there (ClickLock? I DON’T KNOW HIS NAME!) Came through and they had a firefight at the door. I don’t remember much after that, someone hit me with the box and I just sort of sat there until now.”

“That’s the most he’s moved in an hour,” ClickLock confided to Sal, “And he’s right, about the firefight at least. But now we have to go find those mooks who took our genie.”

“A GENIE?” Jeremy groaned, “I must be sleeping.”

“Nope,” Uncle Sal grinned, “You’re Driving!”

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