Zmorro turns to Zahooli and Wurpz. "Don't ask us anythin'!" they yelp in unison. "You would only git a silly answer."
"A world inside of a world you said once, Spink. Ha—"
"Is that impossible? You have seen those ancient sailing ships built inside of a bottle, Mr. Zmorro," I says.
He paws at his dome and takes a hyperbenzadrine tablet. "Well, thank you, Septimus Spink. And have a good trip."
It is Friday. We climb up the ladder and into the Magnificent Mole. "Check everything," I says to Wurpz. "You are the sub-strata astrogator."
"Rogeria. I hope this worm can turn," Wurpz says.
Zahooli checks the instruments. We don't put on space suits, but have a pressure chamber built in to insure against the bends. I wave good-bye to the citizens outside and close the door.
"I have got to git out," D'Ambrosia Zahooli says and heads for the door. "I forgot somethin'."
"Huh?"