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The Gleek slowly fills with fans as first pitch approaches. You pick up a Moist combo at the Spitoon and set about making your way to your seat. There's a few almost-falls—the perils of checking your snacks on your phone while trekking through slippery bleachers—but you manage to slide into your seat with your Moist combo intact. The Coin's speech over the speakers is drowned out by the excited chatter of fans. The Preseason is finally over, the Earlseason has begun!
Day 1
"I've got my idol set to London Simmons," you tell the person in a neighbouring seat.
"You mean Don MMO?"
You laugh. Scattered names is the norm, with all the flooding that happens in the Gleek. "Yeah, the critically acclaimed-" You stop. A hush has fallen over the park. Reverent whispers of 'Moist God' echo throughout the arena.
Sorry about your sundaes
The heat of the supernova sun is stifling.
"Hey, does anyone know what the weather will be like?"
Someone behind you takes out their phone. "No idea, it's showing up as Jazz."
"Maybe if it floods, our evolution will activate and we'll be able to find out what Slippery does."
The jazz riff plays over the PA: 🎵 wah boo louie wah Supernova Eclipse 🎵
The sky goes dark. You take a bite of Moist. It tastes a little dry.
Day 3
You dance in front of your seat, laughing at how your feet slip and slide on the layer of spit and filth covering the grating.
Balloons are inflating, bases are flooding. A Flood Bath is inevitable.
As Inning 4 becomes an Outing, you notice more people pulling out their phones.
There's a gasp. Two. "The Breath Mints are gone."
"Gone?"
"Incinerated."
You check the standings yourself. The Oxford Paws have replaced the Breath Mints on the board.
"We haven't even seen Flood Bath activate," you hear someone whisper. "We still don't know what Slippery does."
Someone else pats them on the back.
You see a small crowd heading towards the Spitoon. It clicks. "Mints, they sell mints!"
Your neighbour gives you a nudge. "What are we waiting for then?"
You spend the rest of the game sucking on your hard candy. It's not mint-flavoured, those sold out before you even reached the Spitoon.
On the way out of the Gleek Arena, there's a column graffitied with 'RIV the breath mints.' There's a growing pile of multicoloured saliva-covered mints at the base. You spit out your hard candy.
It lands perfectly on the top of the pile.
Day 12
"I don't want to wake up without the Moist Talkers." You can't help but notice your voice sounds tinny over the phone. Desperate.
"We'll still be here. We're Moist Talkers."
"You're right." You give a little half smile as you swing your legs. "Island time is eternal. Orb is eternal."
"Nothing bad ever happens to the Moist Talkers!"
The oft-quoted meme catches you off guard. You let out a laugh. "Thanks."
Day 22
Your throat is hoarse from screaming. The tuba ensemble plays a quick melody as Alto Patterson solos their way into a Maximum Blaseball position yet again. They must be tired, but it doesn't show. The familiar sound of a home run echoes in the Gleek.
You cup your hands around your mouth and yell as loud as you can. "A E I O U!"
The tuba ensemble takes a moment to clean their valves. The crowd cheers as the spit flows out of the valves, splashing onto the steel grating.
For a moment, you lock eyes with Alto as they step up to the plate again. Alto flashes you a smile, but it doesn't quite reach their eyes.
You replay it in your head for the rest of the game.
Earlsiesta
The Commissioner's words shock you into movement. Before you know it, you've made your way to the entrance of the Gleek. Other Moist Talkers fans are milling about, recognizable through hastily thrown on jackets and memorabilia.
"Moist God said all hands on deck."
"Have you seen where we are? We're so close to the Hall."
"To Valhallifax!"
"We've got to fund other teams too! Spend all your coins!"
"Lick the Hall!"
The doors to the Gleek swing open. The rowdy fans go quiet. Alto Patterson stands at the entrance, London and the Shell of Lucian Patchwork peek out behind them.
"We just wanted to know," they let out a smile perfected from their time in glolf, "where you are thinking of sending us."
It's impossible to tell who starts the chant, but soon enough, everyone has joined in. "MLEM THE HALL! MLEM THE HALL!"
Alto's smile reaches their eyes.
Day 34
The moment the game ends, all eyes are on the jumbotron.
"We've made it!" You can see the symbol of the team right next to the pulsar on the map.
"We're licking the pulsar!"
Hey talkers the Moist God's voice crackles over the PA, how did you get here?
You feel your breath leave you. "Is the Monitor talking to us?"
Slippery
The Gleek is so quiet, you can hear the drip of spit falling to the ground.
Your pals are inside. Can't let you in yet, busy aiding the others, but stay near
"Did that really just happen?"
"We communed with the Monitor!"
"He called us talkers!"
"Moist God noticed us!"
"We'll stay near, Moist God!"
You hug so many fans in excitement that your clothes end up covered in a thick layer of filth. It's gross, but you wouldn't change it for the world.
Day 52
It finally happens.
The Gleek has flooded dozens of times this season and yet only now have all the conditions aligned. Flood Bath has activated. London Simmons is now Slippery.
They're down 4-0. The Moist Talkers are losing, but not really.
Two more runs are scored against them before you finally get to see it in action.
London runs to home before slipping and sliding to first.
You jump to your feet, clapping and cheering. Thousands of fans around you do the same.
No matter what, you think, we've already won.
Day 99
The Coin is melted. The Black Hole (Black Hole) has been expanding.
The Moist Talkers won't make it to the Vault.
It was an even split, and even though you argued for making it to the Vault—"It's what our players deserve!"—you can't find it in you to fault those who argued for staying at the Hall. In the end, the Moist Talkers are left in between: not close enough to make it to the Vault, too far away to double back to the Hall.
Even then, you feel strangely calm.
No matter what happens, you're not alone.
The sound assaults your eardrums, a big bang—