Dook and the 'ook's

Flops wakes to find their living room packed with colorful, Dook-like visitors called the 'ook's, each with a strange little purpose. While he tries to restore order, Dook calmly serves cocoa and reveals that a misplaced Dreamlands gate may bring even more of them through.

Dook and the 'ook's

Flops woke up on the couch because someone was quietly vacuuming the ceiling.

He opened one eye.

The living room was full of Dooks.

Not green Dooks. Every other kind.

A blue Dook sat inside the television, nodding politely at a cooking show. A yellow Dook was watering the lamp. A purple Dook stood in the doorway with a yellow mop and bucket, waiting for something to become dirty enough to deserve him.

A little pink Dook was staring into Flops' face.

"Good morning," said Pink Dook.

Flops sat up so fast that the blanket became briefly convinced it was a cape.

"Dook," he said. "Why are there twelve of you?"

The green Dook looked up from the kitchen table, where he was making toast by placing bread beside the toaster and encouraging it.

"Oh," said Dook. "Those are the 'ook's."

"The what?"

"The 'ook's." Dook gestured around the room. "They are like me, but they lost the first part."

Blue Dook climbed out of the television with a faint static pop.

"I am Book," he said.

"I am Cook," said Yellow Dook, pouring a full glass of water into the lamp.

"I am Nook," said Purple Dook, who had somehow become folded into the corner of the room.

Pink Dook smiled.

"I am Pook."

Flops pointed at Pook. "What does Pook do?"

Pook thought for a moment.

"I like when things are round."

He picked up a coaster, admired it, then put it down again.

Flops looked back at Dook. "Where did they come from?"

Dook considered this while the bread beside the toaster slowly became toast.

"I opened the silver gate," he said. "But I think I used the wrong key."

"You have one key."

"Yes. It was wearing a little hat."

Flops stared at him.

"The key was wearing a hat?"

"It wanted to look important."

From somewhere behind the couch came a muffled voice.

"Flops," said a Dook nobody could see. "You have a very interesting couch."

Flops jumped onto the armrest. "There is one in the couch now?"

"That's Look," said Dook. "He likes finding places."

The couch cushions rose gently. Look emerged from between them, dusty but pleased.

"Hello," said Look. "There is a smaller couch inside the couch."

Flops covered his face with both paws.

"Okay. Fine. We have a house full of color-coded dream-ferret word fragments. We can deal with this. We just need a plan."

All the 'ook's turned toward him.

Flops pointed at the green Dook. "Dook, close the gate."

Dook looked toward the hallway.

"The gate is not in the hallway anymore."

A small silver door stood on the ceiling.

It opened.

A gray Dook stepped out upside down, carrying a fern in a teacup.

"Hello," he said.

Dook brightened. "Oh! That's Gook."

Flops lowered his paws. "What does Gook do?"

Gray Dook looked at the fern.

"I am not sure yet."

The silver door clicked shut. The room became quiet.

Then Pook picked up the round wall clock and hugged it.

Flops sighed. "We are getting cocoa."

Dook smiled. "I already made some."

On the kitchen table were thirteen mugs. Every one was a different color.

Flops took the red one.

"Why is mine red?"

Dook blinked.

"Because you are Flops."

Flops paused, then smiled despite himself.

The 'ook's gathered around the table. Book drank his cocoa from a hardcover novel. Cook added marshmallows to the ceiling lamp. Nook remained folded into the corner, sipping from an impossible angle.

Flops looked around at all of them.

"This is not becoming a regular thing."

Dook nodded. "Okay."

Behind Flops, the silver door on the ceiling creaked open again.

A tiny orange ferret stepped through.

"Hello," he said. "I am Flook."

Flops slowly put his mug down.

"No."