The plumber then asked if they could please have the God of Fiction help out with the normal believers here who wanted to escape.
"We can donate to the Fictional Church!"
"Donate? Wait a second, let me ask Miss Malt... Oh, she replied instantly, asking how much you can donate."
"Ten thousand Gold Coins."
"That's not a lot..."
"Ten thousand each! There are twenty-two of us here! A total of two hundred and twenty thousand!"
"Oh, we actually have twenty-two respected VIP customers! Miss Malt says she'll contact the God of Fiction right away!"
The plumber sighed in relief, thinking to himself that money really did make things faster, and rescue came especially quick; he didn't have to wait long before Dave's message came back:
