A 1

He wore a wet suit that was several horrible shades of green. Glittery silver words printed down
the side read: PORKY’S FOLLIES. A headset microphone was clamped over his greasy wiry hair. His eyes
were milky blue, one higher than the other, and though he smiled, he didn’t look friendly—more like
his face was being peeled back in a wind tunnel.
“Visitors!” the man said, the word thundering through the microphone. He had a DJ’s voice, deep
and resonant, which did not at all match his appearance. “Welcome to Phorcys’s Follies!”
He swept his arms in one direction, as if directing their attention to an explosion. Nothing
happened.
“Curse it,” the man grumbled. “Telkhines, that’s your cue! I wave my hands, and you leap
energetically in your tank, do a synchronized double spin, and land in pyramid formation. We
practiced this!”
The sea demons paid him no attention.
Coach Hedge leaned toward the crab man and sniffed his glittery wet suit. “Nice outfit.”
He didn’t sound like he was kidding. Of course, the satyr wore gym uniforms for fun.
“Thank you!” The man beamed. “I am Phorcys.”
Frank shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Why does your suit say Porky?”
Phorcys snarled. “Stupid uniform company! They can’t get anything right.”
Kate tapped her name tag. “I told them my name was Keto. They misspelled it as Kate. My
brother…well, now he’s Porky.”
“I am not!” the man snapped. “I’m not even a little porky. The name doesn’t work with Follies,
either. What kind of show is called Porky’s Follies? But you folks don’t want to hear us complain.
Behold, the wondrous majesty of the giant killer squid!”