A continuing story of Chaz the GELF, bartender at the Intergalactic Truckstop.

When Chaz first stumbled across the pit, it was a lot smaller. The season was later; the globeflowers had bloomed and gone to seed, and the sap was hidden under their dead husks. Chaz trudged unknowingly into the pit. He panicked and struggled and hollered for a while as the sap took him down, and then, as he felt it reaching the base of his tail, something clicked in him and he gave up. Sod the tour ship, the tree, the Truckstop, the Truckstop bar, Commander Jameson, sod everything to the power of Sod. The... stuff could have him if it wanted him that much, and anyone who missed him enough could come fish him out. It wasn't as if he could drown.

More sap has oozed up since then, and the pit is wide and open. Chaz is at the center now, and here he stops. He tilts his feet downwards, submerging his toes; the sap runs warm between them, trying to push its way between sole and sandal but held out by Chaz' adhesive foot pads. He feels himself slipping downwards, feels his feet swallowed and embraced. Warm in the New Kew sun, very far from everything, alone and happy and at peace, Chaz watches himself sink.

Once again, big thanks to chaz-fox for letting me play with Chaz. See him in his native habitat.

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