The hallway was long. Too long. It bent in directions physics hadn't agreed to yet.
With every step, we heard whispers. Not creepy ghost whispers—no, worse.
Philosophy.
> "If a spell is cast in the woods and no one hears it, does it still cause plot damage?" "Is a protagonist still a hero if they skip the hero's journey?" "Do side characters dream of main character arcs?"
> "MAKE IT STOP," Kevin sobbed.
The carpet beneath us shimmered. The ceiling stretched. And then—without warning—
Dolphins.
Magical. Floating. Wearing monocles.
They swam through the air, trailing glitter and speaking in riddles.
> "Greetings, land mammals," said one, doing a backflip midair. "We are the Eternal Thinkers of the Salt Loop."
> "Of course you are," Arc muttered.
One dolphin handed us a scroll. Written in haiku. By a crab.
> "This is getting weird," Grubnuk whispered. "We're just now hitting weird?!" Lyria snapped.
And then—because the dolphins weren't enough— fairies arrived.
They were riding the dolphins. Tiny wings. Huge personalities. Aggressively sparkly.
> "ALL ABOARD THE FAIRY EXPRESS!" one shouted, hurling glitter like it owed her money.
Before we could protest, we were scooped up and tossed onto air-saddles.
> "I don't consent to sparkle rash!" I cried.
Too late.
The hallway bent again. Reality swirled. Time blinked.
And suddenly we were racing through memories. Our childhoods. The musical. Grubnuk's failed soup marriage.
Kevin saw his reflection. Cried again.
And then— We landed. Gently. In a quiet meadow where a sign read:
"You Are Here. Emotionally, Maybe."
We dismounted. The dolphins vanished into mist. The fairies exploded into confetti.
Greg sneezed glitter for the third time.
> "What just happened?" Lyria asked.
> "Plot transportation," Arc answered. "We just rode metaphor dolphins through an allegory."
> "...I want to go home."
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End of Chapter 32 (Existential dolphins. Fairy taxi. Nobody's okay.)