“It comes with a lifetime supply of harmonica reeds and a coupon for free gravy at the Waffle House.”
Mooky scratched his chin. “Huh. And here I thought my sinuses were just acting up.” francis mooky duke williams
Prittle tipped its soggy hat. “Well done, Francis Mooky Duke Williams. You are officially a Level Seven Reality Janitor.” “It comes with a lifetime supply of harmonica
Prittle unfolded a scroll that stretched across the trailer and curled out the window. “Last Thursday, at 3:17 PM, you successfully yodeled a note so pure it un-caused the Cuban Missile Crisis. Then, on Saturday, you used that same harmonic frequency to reheat a meatball sub, which accidentally merged your local timeline with a dimension where Elvis became a botanist. As a result, there are now seventeen versions of Dolly Parton, and all of them are arguing about crop rotation.” “Well done, Francis Mooky Duke Williams
Mooky grinned. “Best job I never applied for.”
Prittle sighed. “Fine. But hurry. The Dollys are starting to harmonize, and when they do, the whole multiverse might just break into song and never stop.”
He lived in a rusted Airstream trailer parked on the outskirts of Mulberry, Georgia, a town so small that the water tower had a stutter. By trade, Mooky was an unlicensed interdimensional handyman. By passion, he was a competitive yodeler. By accident, he had just saved the world.