The wind swept across the waste strewned landscape of the Limbo Wasteland. Emily and Teddi were walking close at through the fields and heaps of junk. “It’s so nice to have you back momma,” Teddi said to Emily, smiling up at the drok. “Did you see me catch that big mushroom ball?” “Um, sure, I remember,” Emily said in reply, flicking her tail a bit in discomfort as the images of Teddi transforming into an imposing bear woman and single handily punching out a giant fungus monster. “It was... something.” “Yeah,” Teddi replied happily. “The enlightened scraps said I was a shoe in for their ranks.” 

That thought alone made Emily’s skin crawl. She only met these so called “enlightened scraps” just recently, and from what she saw, there was nothing enlightened about them. In fact, they seemed more like the lost souls than anything else, deranged and indifferent to the world around them. Of course, they were seemingly made by Krockman himself to serve a rather noble purpose, protecting and watching over his cousins, Willam and Sophie, while they were still alive. But still, it was hard to deny scraps’ more insidious nature, and they had recently inducted Teddi into their ranks. God only knows what they’ll do to her. 

“Mama?” Teddi asked, bringing Emily back to reality. Looking down at the little teddy bear scrap, Emily asked in reply, “Yes sweety?” “Who’s that man up there?” Teddi asked, pointing up at the road. Looking up at the road, Emily was greeted by a decidedly odd sight. Hobbling down the path with pigeon-toed gait was an odd little man, only just as tall as Emily was. He was dressed in a blue bathrobe and red slippers, but it was not his clothes that made him stand out. Rather, it was his small head that drew the eye, topped with a little knob of hair and rimmed at the bottom by relatively large, protruding teeth. He seemed rather old for someone with his condition, being in his late forties. Emily could only wonder what he was like back when he was alive, if he had been treated well. Whatever the case, Emily could tell by the look in his eyes that this was a fellow with a mission.

As the microcephalic man continued his waddling march, he noticed a door in one of the junk heaps, causing a smile to creep across his face. Approaching the door, he knocked on it, asking in a slow yet well thought out tone, “Hello? Is anyone home? I was wondering if you could give me some directions.” After waiting a few minutes of waiting, the man looked at the door in confused manner, as if he were expecting a response. Realizing something was amiss, he grabbed the door knob and pulled the door open, revealing nothing but the patch of the previously obscured heap. Looking disappointed, the man sighed through his large nose as he said to himself, “Darn, just another heap. And I was really hoping it would be a nice person this time around.” As she watched the pitiful sight, Emily said to herself, “Poor guy, he seems so lost. Maybe we can help him, don’t you think Teddi?” When she heard no answer, however, Emily looked down at her side, only to realize that the little scrap was gone; having run off to the wayward man. “Teddi! Wait!” Emily shouted as she chased after her “daughter”. 

As the man examined the door forlornly, he heard the voice of a little girl calling out to him, simply saying, “Hi.” Taken by surprise, the man looked down by his side, only to see what looked like a little girl with the limbs of a teddy bear, a brown night gown, a little black nose, and a cap that resembled a teddy bear’s head. “Oh, hello there little one,” the man said as he bent over to get a closer look at the little creature. “You must be one of those ‘scraps’ I’ve heard so much about. It’s nice to meet you.” “It’s nice to meet you too,” the teddy bear scrap said in reply. “I like your face.” Confused by this remark, the microcephalic man simply smiled in return and said, “Why thank you. My face likes you too.”  

As the two were talking, the man heard the voice of a woman call out, Teddi, wait!” Looking up, he saw a strange woman in a blouse with a cat-like face, a thin tail,and the smooth, reddish purple scales of a lizard. “Teddi, don’t run off like that. You could get hurt,” the cat-lizard girl said to the scrap, Teddi, before looking up at the man and saying, “I’m sorry about that. She didn’t bother you, did she?” “Oh no, she was perfectly fine,” the man said with a smile. “So her name is Teddi, eh? What might your’s be then?” “My name is Emily,” the woman answered as she picked up Teddi in a hug. “And Teddi here is technically my daughter.” “Well it’s nice to meet you both,” the man said in reply with a smile. “My name is Jojo. Jojo the Pinhead.”

Hearing this, Emily cringed, saying, “Now you really shouldn’t call yourself that.” “Why not?” Jojo asked curiously. “That’s what I’ve always been called. What’s wrong with ‘Jojo’?” “No, no, I was referring to ‘pinhead’,” Emily corrected. “It kind of has a bad connotation these days. Now we call people with your condition ‘microcephalic’.” Looking confused, Jojo asked, “What does that mean, microcephalic?” “Well, it refers to someone with your... condition,” Emily answered uncomfortably, having never had to describe anyone’s “condition to them. “It’s a nicer way of saying it.” Having heard this, Jojo thought about it for a minute, furrowing his brow in quiet contemplation. After a few minutes, he finally asked, “Isn’t this ‘microcephalic’ just the same as ‘pinhead’? If that we’re the case, how is one word nicer than another if they mean the same thing? It makes no sense.” When she heard this, Emily was dumbfounded, speechless. 

“But I understand what you’re saying. I know people like me aren’t normally as bright as me,” Jojo continued. “In fact, I wasn’t this bright before I died. It was a gift.” “A gift?” Emily asked curiously. “From who?” “From angels of course,” Jojo answered with a smile as he pointed up at the sky. “They came down to me one day, while I was asleep. When they came, I got out of bed, but my body didn’t follow. I was scared at first, but the angels, they placed their hands on my head for a few minutes, and my mind woke up. They told me it was so I could appreciate Heaven.” “Hold on, you’re from Heaven?” Emily asked in shock, pointing up at the sky for emphasis. “And you came out down here? Why?” “Oh yes, they were nice to me, the angels. They gave me the ability to read and a nice little house, much nicer than that circus wagon I used to live in,” Jojo answered with a nod. “But, I was also very lonely up their. Then one day, an angel came to me and asked me if I could help her find some family of her’s in Limbo. That’s why I’m down here, but... I got lost while looking.”  

“You poor thing,” Emily said in pity. “Krockman really should be more careful where he dumps his hoard. I saw you knocking on a door on one of those junk heaps.” “I’ve heard of this Krockman,” Jojo said in reply. “He’s an odd one I’ve heard, but I’m certain these heaps are not Krockman’s work.” Hearing this, Emily looked surprised. “I’m sorry, these aren’t Krockman’s heaps?” she asked in confusion. “I mean, he always takes a cherished belonging from people he does Jobs for. I just assumed this is where it ends up.” “Oh no, no, Krockman had nothing to do with this,” Jojo said, shaking his head. “These heaps are actually made up of junk that was pushed in here from the mortal realm. I’m not sure what’s going on in the mortal realm these days, but now they’re producing so much garbage, it’s being pushed into the afterlife.” “Wow, that’s a really grim take on modern day consumption,” Emily said, letting the weight of human excess truly sink in. “But wait, scraps are formed from broken souls fusing with pieces of junk. If all of this crap is just lying around here, why is Krockman bringing in more junk?” When he heard this, a grim look crossed Jojo’s face as he answered, “I think I might have a theory.” 
———————— 

Meanwhile along one of the many desert roads of Texas, a lone biker waits on his hog under the blazing sun. This biker, Shredder, was a man of the moment, constantly seeking the newest thrill. However, recently, things have been getting dull, even the stuff he used to enjoy. Then one day, he found a website for some guy claiming to be a reality warped or something. When he found it, Shredder decided to give him a try, hoping that he would get something out of it. In fact, he actually had an idea in mind if this guy was legit. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, Shredder saw someone walking down the road, dressed in what appeared to be a trench coat, a green polo, jeans, and tennis shoes. As he got closer, he could see that the man had scruffy brown hair and five o’clock shadow. This was him. This was the Krockman. 

Krockman kept walking down the road until he was mere feet from Shredder and his hog. Staring the man in his green eyes, the biker asked, “You the Krockman?” “That would be me, yes,” Krockman answered nonchalantly. “I take it you’re the guy who hired me. Shredder, is it?” “Damn straight,” Shredder answered proudly before noticing something odd about Krockman. “You part camel or something?” Confused by this, Krockman asked, “No. Why do you ask?” “No reason. It’s just that it’s so hot out and I’m sweating like a pig here,” Shredder explained. “Meanwhile, you’re wearing that trench coat and you ain’t even beading.” Krockman only shrugged his shoulders and said, “Eh, the heat doesn’t bother me anymore. No big deal.” 

“Right then,” Shredder said, pushing the lack of sweat out of his mind. “Word on the street is that you can change reality on a whim. I want in on that.” Krockman only smiled at this, saying, “Whoever told you that was a reliable source. I can change reality and can fulfill whatever your heart desires... for a price of course.” “Yeah, I heard about that,” Shredder replied. “Something about it being something we consider precious.” “Your sources are beyond outstanding,” Krockman said proudly. “Well, what do you have to offer?” Hearing this, Shredder pulled out a small key from his pocket as a solemn look crossed his face. “These are the keys to my hog,” he explained as he patted the motorcycle on the side. “I built this baby from scratch. She’s my pride and joy and by far the most precious thing I own.” Smiling a wicked grin at the sound of this, Krockman replied, “Such a noble sacrifice. We certainly have a deal.” 

“Although, I must say,” the mysterious stranger continued. “That seems like an odd choice for a price. After all, a biker without a hog is like a stately, southern gentleman without a mustache (meaning he’d be a pretty shitty example of a southern gentleman).” “Don’t you worry about that,” Shredder said in reply as he pulled off his shades. “Once you here what I want, you’ll know that my need for speed will be fulfilled.” Eyeing the biker curiously, Krockman asked, “And that would be... what exactly?” Smiling a bit, Shredder asked in reply, “Well, you know what a centaur is, right?” Looking confused, Krockman said, “So you want me to turn you into a centaur?” “Yeah, something like that,” Shredder explained. “Only instead of a horse, could you make it a motorcycle?” 

When he had heard this, Krockman looked concerned, rubbing his scruffy chin in quiet contemplation. Finally, he spoke, “So let me get this straight, you want me to turn you into a... motorcycle centaur... a harleytaur?” “Hell yeah man!” Shredder shouted excitedly. “The ultimate thrill baby! Man and machine fused into one kickass adrenaline ride! What’s not to like?!” Looking at the biker in an unimpressed manner, Krockman replied, “Wow, that’s... the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I mean your lower half is basically turned into a giant hunk of metal. How would you even be able to eat anything. Also, how would even steer yourself without...” “Hey! I didn’t hire you to judge me, buddy,” Shredder retorted, insulted by the insinuations. “Now get on with... whatever it is you do to get things done.” “Fine, fine, far be it from me to give my opinion on the subject,” Krockman replied with a sigh as golden drool dribbled from the corners of his mouth. As the drool began to bubble and froth, Krockman added, “You sure you don’t want to reconsider, maybe think of an alternative?” Seeing the look of disapproval on the biker’s face, Krockman only sighed, sending a golden fume coiling from his mouth as he said, “Suit yourself then.” With that, the lost soul vomited forth a cloud of golden mist onto Shredder. 

As he coughed a bit within the cloud, Shredder thought he heard the sound of an engine reving. Then he felt a sudden bolt of pain on the sides of his head as something pushed themselves out, sending his bandanna flying. Reaching up to his head, the biker felt a pair of handlebars jutting from the sides of his head like antlers or a pair of horns. Then there was the sharp pain in his legs, bending, twisting, melding and reforming as flesh and blood turned to metal, oil, and rubber. When the mist cleared, Shredder had been turned into a motorcycle centaur... a harleytaur. “Well, there you go,” Krockman said in an unamused tone. “You are now officially an affront to nature, humanity, and all things holy.” “Oh hell yeah! Now we’re talkin!” Shredder shouted as he reved his internal engine. “Time to burn rubber baby!” With that, Shredder tore down the road, leaving Krockman behind while he shoved the abandoned motorcycle into his trench coat, shaking his head as he knew this was not going to end well. 

As Shredder tore down the road at breakneck speeds, the wind whipping through his hair, he was hit with a wave of new sensations. He could feel his heart racing, his mind swimming in a slurry of adrenaline, endorphins, and dopamine. Never before had he achieved such a level of action fueled euphoria. This, was true adrenaline junky Nirvana... at least it was until he ran into an unseen pebble; sending his entire bulk flying through the air, crashing and tumbling across the unforgiving asphalt. And that was how he was found, his upper half completely torn free from the crumpled motorcycle, bleeding out a large pool of oil. As he lay there dying, Shredder saw Krockman slowly approaching him, only to pop up right in front of him in the blink of an eye. Standing over the wreck of a man, Krockman kneeled down to get a better look, showing off his glowing green eyes and fang filled grin. Then he held up a boney claw-like finger and waved it as he tsked at Shredder (as if he just seen a dumb teenager do a particularly stupid and ill advised skateboarding stunt). “I warned you to reconsider bro. I warned you,” Krockman said as he looked down on the biker. “And we’re so far out in the middle of nowhere, not a single soul is here to help you. Such a waste really, all your bravado and thirst for thrills. Well it all ends here. I gave you what you want, the deal had been made, now it’s time to collect. You’re mine now, forever more.” 
————— 

“He steals people’s souls!” Emily shouted in horror as Jojo told her his theory. “Well, yes and no,” Jojo explained. “You can’t technically ‘steal’ a person’s soul. It’s like a separate person. Of course, it can be marked by someone from one of the three afterlives. “Marked? You mean like a placeholder?” Teddi asked. “Exactly, representatives from Heaven, Hell, and Limbo come to the mortal realm and speak with random people, offering them whatever they want in exchange for an item considered precious to them. This item becomes a stand in for the soul and when that person finally dies, their soul ends up in the afterlife of that representative; safe from any possibilities of crossover, misdirection and shattering.” “So, all the afterlives do this?” Emily asked worriedly. “Even Heaven?” “Yes, even Heaven,” Jojo answered with a nod. “Although, it seems like Krockman maybe the most honorable of the three. He’s the leader of Limbo after all, and he does the work himself.” Looking shocked, Emily muttered to herself, “Oh dear god, I have to get out of here.” 

“Well, I really have to get going,” Jojo said with a sigh. “I really need to find a place to stay for the night. Maybe whoever owns the place can give me directions.” “Now hold on a minute,” Teddi said as she walked up to the pinhead. “We’d be happy to help you out. In fact, we can go see uncle Krockman. I’m sure he can help you find this angel’s family. Right momma?” Emily only looked at the pair before cracking a small smile and saying, “Sure, why not.” “Oh that’s fantastic,” Jojo said with a grin. “Thank you so much, and believe me, once we find my friend’s family, I’m certain you’re going to love them.” “Really now?” Emily asked. “Why do you say that?” “Because the angel’s father happens to be my best friend from back when I was alive,” Jojo answered as he cheerfully clasped his hands. “He used to work as a clown at the circus I lived at, and he was always so nice to me. His name was Misfit, Misfit the clown, and he’s the greatest man I’ve ever known.”