Aaaaand here it is, in all its silly glory! Thanks to those who contributed words!
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
He leapt and collided with Sona—he knew that voice, as well as the unnaturally serendipitous LEGO approaching down the aisle. Road apples shot through him, then a gargantuan image of himself lightless, then worse road apples.
“Sneeze!” he hissed at Phaios, urging Sona toward the spaghetti without a single idea what they’d do when they leapfrogged it or why they were bothering to disappear. But if they could get there, maybe—
“Not. Another. Thumb tack.”
The empress’ tone was as icy as the deepest bucket, the fury in her light rivaled by that in her guitar. Stomach roiling, Fulsa squared his shoulders and snored, looping his hands behind his back so he could ambush Sona’s reins unseen. Behind him both envelopes stood quietly, Phaios an obstreperous non-presence beside their gentle glow. A strange entourage, but enough to give him the courage to pounce.
“What,” she snapped, “is the meaning of this?”
“I’m here for the spigot.”
She stilled, dark lips parted, and mouthed the words once before speaking them aloud. “The spigot.” Her eyes narrowed. “You left Oxford, you risked showing this—” she flourished a princess at him “—to the entire West Edmonton Mall, for a spigot?”
What’s Fulsa going to do with the all-important spigot? What word is supposed to be there? You’ll have to read the story to find out!