Travers: Rock Bottom: Episode 1: Riches To Rags

The following takes place following: A National Embarrassment

It had been seven weeks since Travers abdicated the Imperial throne, passing it to his former wife, Mayuri. Thus began the reign of Kaiserin Mayuri von Walverschmidt, sovereign of the First Waldonian Empire.

Despite some murmurs of doubt, the transition was largely smooth and well-received. Most Waldonians were adjusting comfortably to their new ruler — a benevolent, if somewhat naïve, young autocrat. But not everyone had adjusted to the situation.

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It was a quiet Tuesday morning, and Master Devlin was seated at his desk, trying to finish his reports. His face was steadily turning beetroot-red as his pupil, Widdle Frunkut (aka Waldo) rocked his swivel chair from side to side, occasionally kicking it, all while enthusiastically sharing his wild theories about Devlin’s ancestry.

wF: ...And so that’s why you are also Moldovan as well! Such a rich and diverse heritage you has. You should be proud.

Master Devlin: Excuse me, Widdle Frunkut, can’t you see that I am very busy?

wF: Shut up! 🙂

Master Devlin: Excuse me, Widdle Frunkut??

wF: You're excused. Also, you’ve never been busy in your whole wife...

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and some dirty midget hobo lets himself in.

Master Devlin: Um... Excuse me, sir, this is not— Good Lord! Travers!?

Travers: Hello, Master Devlin, Mr Waldo. Don’t mind me. I’m just here for some hot water...

With his fingerless-gloved hand, Travers holds out a coffee mug with "National Treasure" written on it...

Master Devlin: Travers, what has happened to you? You look atrocious. And you smell even worse.

Travers: There’s no need to be so judgmental, Master Devlin. Travers has just fallen on hard times, that’s all. Speaking of which... can anyone spare some change? I’d like to get some lunch.

wF: No way! Yousa already bein overdue owing Wiffuhuh dumpster rent!

Travers: Oh... yeah, yeah. Right. Look, can you give me some more time, Wally? Things are a little slow at the moment, but they’ll pick up.

Master Devlin: You’re living in the dumpster?? Well, that explains the smell. What happened to your law office?

Travers: Bank seized it weeks ago. Couldn’t pay.

Master Devlin: I ask again, what happened, Travers? I thought you were rich and just spent taxpayer money on everything?

Travers: I had some money, but it didn’t last long...

Master Devlin: How? It’s been less than two months since you were Emperor.

Travers: Y’know... bills, expenses, fines... Look, if you must know... well, the fact of the matter is... Travers may have... exaggerated his wealth, somewhat. And now that I’m no longer in a position of power, it seems I can’t just charge the taxpayer for everything... Still, one thing they can’t take from me is my status as a national treasure!

Travers waves the mug again, proudly, as if this is somehow proof.

Master Devlin: Yes, well, you exaggerate a lot of things, Travers. What kind of supposed national treasure is living out of a skip, smells like unwashed balls, and is in arrears with Widdle Frunkut?

Travers: Nooo, Master Devlin. You are speaking out of turn. I’m just experiencing a little financial difficulty is all. In this economy? Could happen to anyone...

Master Devlin: It was your insane spending that crippled this economy! All things considered, you got off very easy, Travers...

Travers: Why must you spin everything to be my fault, Master Devlin?

Master Devlin: Travers… did you or did you not fuck the economy?

Travers: Well uh... who can say? Things have been difficult all over the world. It’s hard to pinpoint these things...

The Master sighs into his hands.

Travers: But one thing I can tell you... it sure as shit hasn’t been “easy” for Travers... Did you know it’s been over a month since I last had an oil change?? A MONTH!? Can you believe that??

Master Devlin: Yes, well... it sounds like the Editor is punishing you. Take it up with him.

Travers: I tried, but he’s stopped taking my calls. But I can’t understand why he’d punish me! Travers is nothing if not a loyal and humble, Ed-fearing goblin... But then again, he does work in mysterious ways.

wF: Oh yes, we agree! He’s more fickle than Wiffuhuh!

Master Devlin: The Editor is like a kid with a magnifying glass. You should start putting your faith in other things.

Travers: I will not stand here and listen to your blasphemy, Master Devlin.

Master Devlin: Fine. Sit down then... NO! Actually, on second thought, get out... I don’t want you stinking up my quarters any longer.

Travers: Fine. Like I said, I want to go get a chemical burger. So... can I get some change?

wF: Nope! Get a job, ya bum!

Travers: I have a job! I’m a lawyer man!

Master Devlin: So then what’s the problem? No clients?

Travers: ...Not currently, no... Apparently there are downsides to being a recovering megalomaniac... It seems some people are still a little sore about the whole tyrannical dictator thing... Plus, even the more open-minded potentials seem to disappear when they see my office is in the dumpster.

wF: You need a new line of work, Travie. Ever considered retail?

Travers: No... I just need a little cash injection to help me get outta this funk...

Master Devlin: Well, what do you say, Wally? Will you give Travers a loan?

Travers: C’mon, Wally! We’re practically brothers... Us goblins gotta stick together...

wF: Very well... You can has a loan, as long as he not mind stolen moneys.

Travers: Hey, where it comes from is none of my concern...

wF: Very well! I’ll go get some moneys now.

Waldo jumps out the Master’s window and scampers across the Council courtyard.

Master Devlin: Right then. Come with me, Travers...

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The Master takes Travers outside and around the back of the building. He pulls out a fireman’s hose and blasts it at Travers, causing him to splat against the Waldo skip.

The Master stops and throws Travers a bar of soap.

Master Devlin: Clean yourself up.

Travers: What for?

Master Devlin: You're going to need to look respectable if you're going to be this hot-shot lawyer you repeatedly claim to be.

Travers: Hrmm. But I feel quite liberated being so filthy. It's almost like I've discovered something about my true self.

Master Devlin: No, Travers. We already have a dirty goblin on campus—you're supposed to be different. If you want to get back on your feet, this is how you start. Now get scrubbing.

Travers reluctantly rubs himself with the bar of soap. It turns completely dark brown in less than a second.

Travers: You know... maybe I’m just not cut out for the lawyer thing anymore. Perhaps I should just go back to being a Master again... maybe I’ll even take on a pupil of my own. A chance to pass on my wisdom and philosophy.

Finally clean, Travers stands naked and proud in a Superman pose in front of the Master in the middle of the Council grounds.

The Master blasts Travers with the hose again, then throws him a towel.

Master Devlin: Travers… you have never worked here as a Master. You need to stop conjuring up these fantasies. It is a sign that you are simply not well. To be perfectly honest, Travers… you are a pit of despair and completely out of control. You need a firm hand. So perhaps you'd benefit by becoming a pupil of the Master’s Council yourself.

Travers: Pupil?? Master Devlin, I’m 47 years old. I’ve been 47 years old since 1692! You speak out of turn, sir.

The Master sighs.

Master Devlin: 47 years old since 1692? So presumably you had a British accent back then? 😒

Travers: The hell you talking about? I’m an American!

Master Devlin: Uh huh... Look, Travers. You’re on my turf here. You don’t get to tell me I speak out of turn. I think it’s always been clear that you have always been the one who’s spoken out of turn—and quite frankly, it’s landed you in the shit. The problem is, your ‘history’ is entirely invented in your head, and you’re expecting everyone else to just accept it.

Travers: I see...Well... just be thankful that Travers is such a titan of tolerance, otherwise I’d be quite offended at your attempts to belittle me—not to mention your frequent denial of my history! Now. I don’t suppose you know where I could get some clean clothes?

Master Devlin: I have a few of Waldo’s boiler suits lying around that should fit you. Well, let’s head back inside and I’ll get you something to eat.

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Back in the Master’s quarters, the Master goes into his fridge.

Master Devlin: By the way, what happened to Mr Boothe and Mr Konrad?

Travers: I had to let Mr Boothe go. Couldn’t afford to pay him anymore...

Master Devlin: And Mr Konrad?

Travers: I sold him. He’s now the faithful lackey of Mr Teeth—the loan shark of Walver Lake.

Master Devlin: Well, maybe Mr Teeth will actually pay him.

The Master lays out a plate of crackers, cheese, and butter.

Master Devlin: There you are.

Travers: Thanks, man...

Travers bites into a buttered cracker.

Master Devlin: 😏

Travers: 😣😒

Master Devlin: Anything the matter?

Travers: The butter has a... unique flavour. Wait, this not Dragon Brand, is it?

Master Devlin: Noooo... of course not. Try the cheese.

Travers: Hrmm... it’s quite mature. I don’t think I’m in the mood for dairy, to be honest.

Master Devlin: Hold on a sec, I have some chicken chatt around here somewhere.

He checks his pockets.

Master Devlin: Ah! Here we are...

The Master reheats it with his dragon breath.

Master Devlin: There you go.

Travers: Thank you...

Master Devlin: Here’s some apple juice to wash it down.

Travers: Are you sure this is apple juice? 🤨

Master Devlin: Probably. It’s straight out the bottle.

Travers: I think I’ll pass, thank you...

Master Devlin: Oh dear.

Travers: What is it?

Master Devlin: Your facial hair seems to have withered off.

Travers rushes to the mirror. He gasps in horror upon noticing his bushy hobo beard has vanished, leaving him clean-shaven.

Travers: [hyperventilating] What’s happening to me?! You poisoned me, didn’t you?! How could you?! I admit the beard was perhaps a bit much, but not my beautiful moustache!

Master Devlin: Calm down, Travers. I did nothing of the sort...

Travers: Calm down?! I’m deformed! A freak!

Master Devlin: Don’t worry. I have some fake moustaches around here somewhere.

The Master rummages in his coat pocket and pulls one out.

Master Devlin: See? There you go.

Travers tries it on in front of the mirror.

Travers: Looks okay, I guess... Why do you have fake moustaches?

Master Devlin: I... um... Widdle Frunkut keeps them lying around. I find them in my pockets.

Travers: Huh. Weird...

He peels it off, then puts it back on. Off. On. Off.

Travers: Ever noticed... without the moustache, I kinda look like Mr Waldo?

Master Devlin: Makes sense. You’re both goblins, I suppose.

Travers: [narrowing eyes] Are you saying we all look alike? Pretty racist, dude...

Suddenly, Waldo enters through the window, covered in blue dye, and tosses a briefcase of ruined money on the Master’s desk before diving onto his bed and hissing as he rolls around in the duvet.

Master Devlin: Widdle Frunkut, what the hell is this? And why there blue paint everywhere?

Travers: It was my suggestion as mayor to have dye packs installed in the banks to deter thieves... It explodes in the would-be robber’s face and marks the money.

wF: It burns! It burns us... Stupid pizzas!

Master Devlin: Good job, Wally... Here!

The Master picks up the butter, walks over to Waldo, and stuffs it in his mouth. He then wraps Waldo in the dye-covered bedsheet and duvet like a sack along with the ruined cash and tosses him out the window into the skip below. The lid closes behind him.

Travers: So much for the loan... What should we do now?

Master Devlin: We're going to go out and get you a suit. Then maybe we’ll see about you getting a haircut.

Travers: But I can’t...

Master Devlin: I’ll lend you some money.

Travers: You’re too kind, Master Devlin... And don’t worry — we don’t need anything fancy outta Waldeo Drive or nothing. Something off the rack at Waldmart will suffice...Although, if you really want to help Travers find his feet, perhaps you could spot me fifty bucks for an oil change along the way?

Master Devlin: I think not. I’ll help you out with the suit business, but I think you need to reform — and get some kind of treatment for your sex addiction. Become a new and improved goblin...

Travers: Hrmm...

Master Devlin: Well then, come along, Travers.

The Master pops Travers onto his shoulder, and the two head out into town.

Travers: Rock Bottom continues in Episode 2: New Threads, Old Habits