Asisi felt great. He felt alive. The gods bless this kobold. Finally, he was free from his past and no longer had to hide who he was. Asisi Vermouth casually tossed aside the rubble of the East of Eden and emerged into the world as if he was born again, and dusted off his Tavornac Gladiators uniform. How had he gotten in it anyways? It had been decades since he had last seen it. He brushed aside the thought.

Asisi Vermouth was a man of action now; specifically a man of action who repaid his debts to talk show hosts. So, using his superior visual-spatial skills from his time as a professional soccer player, Asisi Vermouth, number twelve, immediately identified where Zune had been sitting at the interview desk before the saloon had collapsed and began to pull off the wreckage. He hadn’t felt so alive in twenty years. The adrenaline raced through him as he came closer to his prize. Zune Tee-em would not die on his watch.

After twenty minutes of careful digging, Asisi came to a particularly heavy beam that he couldn’t lift. No matter what he tried, it was clear that he was going to need a crane to move it. And a crane he did not have. He cussed (because Asisi Vermouth, despite being reborn, was still a cusser at heart) and kicked the beam in frustration. The wood erupted in a cloud of splinters. Holy shit, Asisi Vermouth thought.

“Holy shit,” Asisi Vermouth said, slightly after he thought it. Something had happened on that stage. A miracle from a strange power, perhaps even surpassing that of the gods. How had the kobold done this? What strange magic had been set upon him? Now was not the time to think about it. Not when he had rubble to kick away. Not with a debt to pay.

*****

Now that Zune’s excitement from the Asisi Vermouth interview had faded, the kobold couldn’t help but feel claustrophobic. He also knew he was wasting time by sitting under the rubble. Time that could have been used getting furniture for the set. Time that could have been spent negotiating an appearance fee (again, misunderstanding the concept.) Time that could have been spent figuring out how he had made the spotlight appear. How did I do that anyways?

Zune reached for the power of Guy Blanco, hoping some reserves remained. Nothing. All he could do was wait for the tunnel rescue crew to get him. Wait, no, there’s no tunnel rescue crew coming. The thought greatly depressed Zune. He missed him. He missed his kobold friends (who had all abandoned him when he was sent to the tunnel crews). He missed his affordable rent-controlled housing unit. And he missed when his Zune™ worked. Zune reached into the rat sack made of rats that also had a bunch of rats in it (all of the rats were fine), ate a snack, and then pulled out Zune™. He admired the sleek magical rock in a sliver of sunlight. Maybe, if he ever got out of this mess, Zune could find a wizard to repair the device and once again access the wealth of Guy Blanco’s knowledge. But that would require getting rescued.

Suddenly, Zune heard a loud crack as the beam above him dissipated into sawdust. The bright sun revealed the presence of a tall dark skinned man in a soccer outfit. He almost looked youthful. Asisi Vermouth extended a hand down to pull Zune from the wreckage. He was saved!

“Thank you for saving me.” Zune said, hiding away the Zune™ so no one could steal the powerful artifact (he had already had several rats stolen this week and was not about to let it happen again to something much more valuable).

“No, Zune. Thank you for saving me.” Asisi said, smiling. Zune didn’t quite understand what human man meant by the phrase, and so he just shrugged and smiled.

“Wait, where is the audience?” Zune asked.

***********

Ragnar, Cleopatra, Langley, and Father Milton were certain they were going to die in the wreckage of the East of Eden. And now all four intimately knew how boring it was to wait for death. They had already gambled all of their money away, and now had nothing left to gamble (Ragnar, who had been rather hungry, had eaten the gold and silver, so they couldn’t gamble even if they tried), so all there was left was to wait and reflect on the incredible show they had seen.

Well, at least Brestmylc doesn’t hate me anymore. I can die happy. Father Milton thought. The fact that he would only ever see one episode of The Slightly-Late Show, however, was a regret he would take to the grave.

Suddenly, the rubble and the table disappeared into a cloud of sawdust. There, instead, stood Zune Tee-em and Asisi, each extending their hands to pull the quartet out of the rubble and into daylight. All four were very relieved that they would not have to die of boredom, hunger, and thirst.

Asisi looked…different. More youthful. Also, he had a soccer jersey on, which Father Milton had not been expecting.

“Well, I suppose I have to find business somewhere else.” Asisi said, gazing out into the sunset.

“And I still need furniture.” Zune sighed.

A talkstone vibrated in Asisi’s pocket. The former soccer player answered, uncertain of what to expect.

“Hello?”

The soccer player nodded. And nodded some more. “I’m in Eden.” he said.

“The game is tomorrow?” he asked, to the person on the other end of the talkstone.

“How am I gonna get there? Oh. Really? I see. I’ll be there, don’t you worry. I just got..distracted. Bye.”

Asisi Vermouth kneeled and put his hand on Zune’s tiny kobold shoulder. The rat bag full of rats squirmed in excitement.

“You changed my life. Literally. I don’t know how you did it, but apparently I’ve been with the Gladiators for twenty years at this point. I’m leaving Eden today, probably forever. How can I ever repay you, friend?” Asisi asked Zune. The kobold thought for a moment.

“Well, an appearance fee would be nice.” The kobold suggested.

Asisi Vermouth made sure it was a very generous fee and didn’t correct Zune’s misunderstanding of what an appearance fee was before he walked off into the sunset for less silly places.