The Fleepy Adventures of Princess Sheeshamagak is a bedtime story written by Somarinoa at the request for one made on January 18th, 2012 AD. It was left open for further chapters although as of 10/24/2012, no need for a bedtime story has been needed.

Once upon a time, in a magical kingdom made of space lollipops and coconut cream pies, lived a beautiful princess named Sheeshamagak. Princess Sheeshamagak liked most of all—more than anything else in the world—to sleep upon minuscule little dinosaurs. While toy-sized, the magical state of the kingdom allowed them to really be alive.

Unfortunately for the beautiful Princess Sheeshamagak, she was very very sensitive to where these dinosaurs were under her body and frumpy dress, and one of these dinosaurs just so happened one night to smell the aroma of pancake teeth wafting through an open tower crack. He chose to wriggle his way free and climb down the sap tower and locate these pancake teeth himself.

It was the middle of the night and the still-sorta-beautiful Princess Sheeshamagak, with her tousled hair and very frumpy dress, woke up from a dead sleep, sitting straight up and launching a couple of stray domesticated tacobirds like some sort of meatapult. "What is the meaning of this whole being awake business??" she demanded, being a princess and all that. "My diminutive dinos are out of whack again!"

She searched and she searched through the multitude of tiny monsters, until she finally discovered who it was who had turned up AWOL. "Gwomble! Where have you gone you ridiculous diplodocus??" She searched and she searched, but the curvy and obligatorily adventurous Gwomble was nowhere to be seen.

Knowing he couldn't have gotten far (although in all fairness, "getting far" in her land's terms of distance measurements meant traveling to the supermoon and back fifteen thousand times an ultrananosecond), she nodded one quick nod and leapt out of bed, landing entire-body first onto the gelatinous carpet of her room. She was a very fancy princess, you see, and could afford such extravagances as a gelatinous carpet and fortween mattresses stacked on top of each other.

Being a nimble, agile and dangerously quick individual as she was, Princess Sheeshamagak took only an hour and a half to right herself on her floor and began to slosh-sashay towards the nearest door, of which there were probably like 5 or whatever you think is a cool number.

She quickly dashed down the lemony halls with her hopskotchy steps and finally reached the ground floor only minutes before she started. Bursting out of the room wildly out of breath, she looked around, her sight blackened slightly from a lack of local planetary atmosphere while little pin pricks of doomlight (known to some of the less educated folks as "stars") floated around her head. She didn't recover super soon, but it was not really all THAT long before she was able to search for poor, dear, lost Gwomble the Diplodocus in this, his most dire hour of need.

Thirty-three days worth of searching and she finally took note of the teensy little sappy trail leading off in some wildly random direction that, as far as she could decipher, was NOT leading towards her bed at the top of her sappy tower—in fact, she would say, had she required the usage of her detective reasoning skills, that it lead completely AWAY from the tower. "Why, doesn't Gwomble realize the tower is the other way?" she wondered out loud, gathering up her frumpy dress and slithering after her little pet, eyes to the ground and nose to the sky.

Before long, she found herself gruggling along a cobbledirt road, with her little diplodocus' resiny trail still leading her onwards, though it was certainly covered in cobble dust and was mainly only decipherable through the darker patches of cobbledust that made up the little footprints.

She soon found herself passing the local blacksmithery, and the local blacksmithy, and the local bread and cake shop, and the local periwinklebluesmithy. Next came the shop of the Footnibbler, a weird old man who seemed to have forgotten that making shoes, even in her strange and somewhat unique land, wasn't done through the use of one's dexterous lips.

She wondered just how long this was going to take her, for as a princess she was extremely patient in the most impatient of ways but at the same time afraid of the variety of gobbledegooks that roamed the area, seemingly at random. The last time she saw one, it had a very strange demeanor and refused to stop mumbling about flaccid pennies.

It was here that she smelt a smell. A wondrous, fabulous, floppydoppydeedabulous, odoriferous aroma that she immediately could place. The local flapjacksmithy was once again preparing their wonderful floppy cakes. She anxiously wondered what kind of cakes were being brewed up today, and loop-de-looped her way towards the flapjacksmithy shop.

Of course, being a princess she was not about to not pay close attention to her quick aerial loops and made sure to loop underneath the lardclanger gong outside the shop. A crowd of the local populace had gathered en masse at the door however, and she had to struggle a bit to even stand up in the shop, knocking over several other patrons on the way up. Luckily they were only Kneesnarglers and Floopwacks, and a single Poleman. However, now that she was standing she realized she could not move an inch. This shop was packed like a pickle jar!

Little stood in her way fourteen hours later, when the crowd had dispersed. It had really dispersed within 45 minutes of her having stood up, but she wanted to be sure and was being courteous just in case the crowd decided to gather around her again, they wouldn't have to recalculate their positions due to her having moved.

Here she saw a wonderful array of floppy cakes—she saw hotcakes and lukewarmcakes and chillycakes and flapjacks and flopjacks and john kings. She even saw her favorite, a single, bedazzled crested diamond strawberry mancake. "Why, how did you know that my favorite kind of floppy cake was the bedazzled crested diamond strawberry mancake??" she declared out loud in a voice roughly equivalent to a jet engine roar in terms of decibel level. All of the floppy cakes quivered with anticipation. "Well, little miss Princess Sheeshamagak of our wonderful if not slightly backwards kingdom of Fillintheblank, I knew not your exact favorite style of floppy cake!"

"Then how did you soever come across such a wonderful recipe??", Princess Sheshamagak wondered out loud to herself and several other customer stragglers who had, for the most part, eaten too much earlier in the day and were now simply too round, square or trapezoidish to get anywhere.

"Why, this strange, cute little horrid beast of a monster told me how!" the flapjacksmith, whose name happened to be Flapjack of All Trades, held up a teensy little creature in his palm meat. A teensy little long-necked creature, with cute little beady eyes and a soft, adorable chef's hat covered in a single flake of flour but made it look doused in the stuff due to its diminutive size.

"Why, Gwomble! How did you get here??" she asked, scooping the creature up and nuzzling its sticky, powdery body to her cheek. "Well," interrupted the Flapjack of All Trades, "he just walked into my shop one day a number of wartydays ago, and ate up all of my flapjacks! At first I was appalled, but I soon realized that I was paid by the hour, and so I quickly got over it. He climbed up the side of my t-pants and shirtiloons in some non-scientific manner until he reached my shoulder, and whispered in my ear that he had a wonderful gift idea he had planned for his wonderful, frumpy owner. And so we set to baking it."

"Well, how sweet of both of you to!" she proclaimed excitedly.

The Flapjack of All Trades smiled: "You have no idea how many Gobbledegooks we had to rimble for all of these diamond strawberries. But I digress—you had better consume your meal before it goes slightly less searing!"

She did just that, and consumed her wonderfully favorite flapjack cake style in mere lizardlips (a very short span of time in her home nation's measuring system). Afterwards her and the Flapjack of All Trades chose to chat it up for literally forever until it wasn't forever anymore and she and little Gwomble decided to go home, walking backwards to say proper goodbyes to the wonderful flapjacksmith and his amazing flapjacksmithy. By the time he was out of sight, she was already used to walking backwards, and so just decided to continue home like that, confident that she knew the way home like the back of her eye. Only her left one, though.

The two pals enjoyed their walk home, although it was not long before the grass and cobbledirt gave way to mushy fields of what looked like cabbage strained through salivated teeth and half-melted marshmallows. She chose not to turn around fully but did glance over her shoulder, noticing a particularly abstract mountain in the nearfar distance.

"Oh dear, my fellow diminutive fellow," the princess mumbled flatly, "I would do say that we've stumbled into Gobbledegook territory. I sure hope we don't spot any."

Gwomble gave her a look.

"You're right, Gwomble. Let's continue on. Gobbledegooks would be fun to meet and play squishskotch with!"

With that, they continued on their journey.

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