The words practically knock me off my feet. ‘You . . . you speak English?’ I ask, stuttering.

      ‘I speak more languages than you know,’ the man-monster says. His voice is a throaty growl. He repeats, ‘You are OK?’

      ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘We are.’

      ‘You are human?’ the man-monster asks. He says ‘human’ like it’s the first time he’s ever spoken the word.

      ‘Uh, yep,’ I say, stepping forward. ‘Sure am. Jack Sullivan is the name. And what are you?’

      ‘Your tongue could not form the words,’ the man-monster says.

      ‘Oh. Well – do you have a name? A name that my, uh, lame, subpar tongue could form?’

      ‘Thrull,’ the man-monster says slowly.

      ‘You saved us,’ June says.

      ‘Properly rescued our lives,’ Quint chimes in.

      ‘Real solid, monster bro,’ Dirk adds. ‘We owe you.’

      Thrull is looking me up and down. His eyes focus on my shoulder. No – over my shoulder. The Louisville Slicer, in its sheath. He quickly reaches out and snatches it.

      I take a very nervous step backward.

      The Louisville Slicer is comically tiny in his big monster hands. His eyes narrow and he lifts the blade, gazing with focus.

      ‘Your weapon . . .’ he starts, his voice suddenly a notch softer.

      ‘Yes. My weapon. And I’d love it back. But, uh, no rush. You’re the boss here.’

      His head tilts slightly to the side, causing the apparatuses and instruments around his neck to rattle and clang. ‘This is the blade that felled the Œŕŗūæŀ, the ancient evil, servant of Ŗeżżőcħ the Ancient, Destructor of Worlds.’ ‘Uhhh . . . felled?’ I ask.

      ‘That means destroyed,’ Quint whispers. ‘As in: slain.’

      ‘Oh. Oh yeah!’ I exclaim. ‘Yep! Well, I mean, it’s my blade. I don’t know who or what Œŕŗūæŀ is. Or who he serves. Did you say Ŗeżżőcħ the Ancient, Destructor of Worlds? Isn’t he a Marvel villain? Or is that DC?’

      The man-monster Thrull’s eyes scrunch up and he looks at me like I’m slow. ‘Marvel villain?’

      Trying not to sound slow, I dive right back in. ‘Oh yeah. Marvel. Um. Superheroes and stuff. They make all the best movies. Well, they did, when movies were still being made. But that’s not important. So who is this Œŕŗūæŀ? This thing that you think I, uh, “felled”.’

      Something like a smile appears on Thrull the man-monster’s face. He hunches over and does a sort of impression, swinging his free arm.

      ‘Blarg!’ June suddenly exclaims. ‘He means Blarg!’

      Blarg is the titanic beast I defeated a month ago. He was crazy creepy and crazy evil – but now he’s just crazy dead. ‘Oh yeah, I felled him,’ I say proudly. ‘I totally felled him. But we didn’t call him Œŕŗūæŀ, servant of Ŗeżżőcħ the Ancient, Destructor of Worlds, or whatever you said. We called him Blarg. ’Cause, ah, that’s just the sound he made when he roared.’

      I’m suddenly very embarrassed by our ability to creatively name monsters.

      The man-monster Thrull takes three pained steps forward until he’s fully towering over me. I’m afraid if I try to crane my neck any more, my head will pop off.

      I gulp.

      Was Blarg a friend of his? If so, he’s probably pretty ticked about me slamming a blade into his buddy’s brain. Should we be fleeing right now? I feel like maybe we should be fleeing . . .

      But the next thing the man-monster Thrull does makes my jaw hang open . . .

      ‘It takes a great hero to defeat a creature from the time before time,’ Thrull says as he starts to stand up. ‘To defeat a servant of Ŗeżżőcħ the Ancient, Destructor of Worlds.’

      I timidly reach out and take the blade from him. ‘Um. Well, thanks,’ I say as I slip it back into the sheath. ‘But it wasn’t just me. I had my friends. This is Quint.’

      Quint sticks out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

      ‘And June and Dirk,’ I say.

      They both wave awkwardly.

      ‘So what are you doing here?’ I ask.

      ‘Here? Now? I am just trying to survive. But in my dimension? There, I was a monster hunter, like you.’

      I feel myself blush. ‘Monster hunter? Little old me? I’m not really a monster hunter,’ I say.

      ‘Wait,’ Quint says. ‘Do you know what happened here? On Earth?’

      ‘Yeah!’ June says, jumping in. ‘You know what caused the Monster Apocalypse?’

      Thrull’s eyes narrow. ‘Only pieces. But I know some, yes.’

      Quint’s giddy. ‘We can finally learn, friends!’ he says.

      Suddenly, the man-monster Thrull drops to the floor. He moans in pain. His leg is worse off than I thought. ‘My movement is limited. Help me?’ Thrull says. ‘To my friends? Home?’

      I gulp. A monster home? Full of monster friends? ‘Ah, where do you live?’ I ask. ‘Like a cave somewhere? Or an ancient castle? Or under a bridge?’

      ‘ßăġņœ Ŕ∂ėʼn,’ Thrull says. ‘But I believe in your tongue, it is pronounced “Joe’s Pizza”.’

      Quint and I look at each other, way beyond confused. And way beyond excited.

      See, Joe’s Pizza was an after-school hangout for middle-school kids, and an all-day hangout for older delinquent dudes, plus Dirk. On half days, kids would head there, grab a few slices, and generally cause mayhem.

      Quint and I dreamed of being regulars there. Y’know, like on TV shows, how there are restaurants and hangouts where everyone knows you. Whenever you walk in, you’d just find your friends, chilling out. I imagined we’d just stroll in, everyone would wave, greet us, practically screaming our names – and our usual orders would be brought immediately.

      But Quint and I were never invited to Joe’s Pizza. And no way we were ever going to just show up and have all the other kids eyeing us and whispering, ‘Who brought the dork squad?’

      So yeah, it wasn’t really our scene. I wanted it to be our scene. I would have given anything for it to be our scene. But it wasn’t. Our scene was more ‘stay at home, play Minecraft, let Quint’s mom cook us Bagel Bites.’

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