It was all to the west of the Kingdom King Alexander was the ruler of in his stead.
Reb and Tiffany left posthumously to the nether verse. They talked to watch combs and volatile midnicks and even truffle rollians and urber skedurbers and Michael Angelo, who told them to come quick. There was a quirky space opera and a rabble needing to be roused. They used the gello stick on the curbivore misquick and in the lick of another firehose they made juicy finery turn prose-purple.
Reb had Tiffany hold her head under water. This allowed her to not see the Thing That Must Not Basin and she sang to the Powderpuff Girl Eater's of Nodding Eclair before they did not see her the first time, nor'easter. She knew this meant war. She suffered a gunning lash and had to bake and eat quick. The train to Nowhere and Black Cavern were both scrammed. This meant they cost more then a henny penny. It was exactly two henny pennies and not three, because three made the Devil at the Doorway, who was actually an old softie, sneeze, which was not how he wanted to exit the transaction. She used the cubivore misquick and the jar of the jarring jamboree to catch the lack of knees and it pleased her to use the gumption on the collected doilies outside the doorway which led to the Island of Nope, Not Going There, Not Quick, And Not In A Hurry that was guarded by the Antiquated Serpent and where King Alexander's firepants were kept. They were under Locke's Key, which kept them from spitting and sputtering. The Pantynose Champion was off of his ship, so they were returnable. They used the firepants to underpants dance themselves into the River of the Liver, which was underneath the Forest of Naught and Goop, and using the convection equation at just the right moment, they were unperturbed when they startled the loon!
The home of the witch, Antimony Rose, was an alimony allegory. It was hard to see why she was so pathetic. It has large, golden framed windows, and candy sticking out every which way. But the thing was just not budging on the debt. Reb had an idea. She climbed on to the fire-pyre outlet and asked Tiffany if she had any crinkle-cut Kris Cringle's she could barely spare. Tiffany did not. So the lack of having any Kris Cringle's Despair meant that she could fly. Reb got on to the roof and went down the chimney come Drumming Chameleon into the staged utility closet of the muddriffin tenderhots she shebooty'd. This shebooty'ing made the witch giggle. So she opened up the cupboard and Reb and Tiffany appeared unscathed, but actually had false teeth. They told Antimony Rose that King Alexander was in danger. The Duke of Autumn and Evil was plundering his ear canals. King Alexander was her monkey's uncle, so she put on her dancing shoes and took the bathing suit bath water she was cooking up in yet another ditzy daze and noodled on over to King Alexander's Bee Balloon Corn Muffin Jamboree with Reb and Tiffany in style.
Now out of style, they were fashionably un-rated as a positively numero unusual gestpolitz. King Alexander woke up, and the Duke of Autumn and Evil showed his true and tried colors, once again. King Alexander drew his Sword of Awesome and Reb realized all too forlornicuffed that he was missing the beat. King Alexander had a ways to go before he was the retracted statement. So the much bemoaned Duke of Autumn and Evil became the Cheery A Fool He Spied, and was beaten at last, forever undonated to a wrecking wreaking, where he was binned forever.
Reb woke up. She had to get ready for school. Tiffany and Reb met up and formed a posse. They studied calligraphy in school and made a vow of poverty. They agreed to never harm a foul shot again. When the day was over, they were all said and done. But the Duke of Autumn and Evil was actually a fop. He had a looking glass and was able to escape the dream world if he was seeing it from another angle. He was taking root in a strange and exotic way. He had no times tables and his disgusting patterns were all washed up. He was an old fogie. So, when the darling anteater finally deduced that the hero was the roll, he was bedazzled. Beaten at last by tom foolery, Reb and Tiffany and King Alexander and the Team of Cheer and Merriment hunched over and backed themselves back into the real world from the dream world. Back to being a goober, the twin ladles of York Peppermint und Patty left to go sign the contract that would forever settle, not fold or call Pat's.
Reb, Tiffany and the Team of Cheer and Merriment were the tireless potty mouthed molops, and the Twin Fuddy-Duddy's could not help it. They were completely benign.
Reb and Tiffany ate supper at Tiffany's charmed intangint wagon. They ate stuffed capsicum with hamburg noodles and wet rice aplenty. They were Von Margarined out. This made their skapoodle observe. They said it had to be deducted from their valiant charmors. They wore these so the Duke of Autumn and Evil did not qwerty the Ted Nugent, so caramelized onions were the soup du jour.
In the Stuck-Place where the pace cars ripened, the stocking stuffers stiffened and the gold mamagoose purloined her furloughly wingspan, they eternally ground coffee nuggets into the things they would become, not what they were because that was what they are, not what they would be when it bickered. Reb was stumped. Tiffany had become hollowed out, like a piglet in a dentist's charlatan aria. King Alexander was battling it off. But then her mom called to her from the real world.
"Rebecca! You must wake up, honey! You must not bear the scars of the F'tarr!"