He glanced across the plains of Arabia, fearing what may come next. Would it be a dingo? A lion? A bear? A cheetah? A polar bear? A penguin? A mongoose? A chihuahua? No one knew. This he did know: that his life was coming to an end. If he couldn't unlock the magical door that lay just beyond the bruzzel bushes, he would be trapped forever.
And then his mother in law would escape, and ... well, you know how they are.
In a flight of fancy, however, he called the only mating call he knew: the azure rhinoceros.
TAROOOO! Or at least that's how he spelled it in his mind. Whatever the case may be, a whole herd of the horned beasts rushed upon him. He bounded atop the largest one he could find and was swept along in their merry, wild, violent chase. Soon, this brought him to his professor's camping ground.
"Top of the morning!" he shouted to Professor Dinagin as he rode past. The professor only had time to gawk.
He called after: "Harold! What the devil?!" But his voice was muffled underneath the trampling of the herd.
Finally, the wild rumpus halted near an oasis, and Harold dismounted his massive, grey steed. "A key perhaps," he mused to himself. "Perhaps an incantation? A puzzle? A magnetic switch? A gatekeeper to be paid? Blast it all! What must I do to be rid of this infestation, this torrential downpour of bad luck?"
"You mustn't talk like that," came a hissing voice from nearby.
Harold jumped in a circle, twisting this way and that to find the source. "Who! What said that? Who's there? Show yourself!"
Out of the oasis slithered — nay! merely walked — a rather homely looking fellow. He had a dusty overcoat like he had been wiping a chalkboard clean with his own person. His hair was all askew, but his face, though homely enough, looked friendly — in a worried sort of way. "You mustn't talk like that," he repeated as he rubbed his hands anxiously. "They'll hear you."
"Who will hear me?" demanded Harold.
"They," emphasized the homely man.
"Who are they? But first, who are you?"
"I? I am just a tired fellow trying to keep the peace. Now, you should go home and stop stirring up trouble."
"But wait," said Harold irritably. "Whose trouble have I stirred up now?"
"All the troubles!" said the homely fellow, perhaps a bit too loudly. "Now stop bothering me and be on your way!"
"Excuse me, sir," he replied a bit more softly. "Excuse me, but I'm in quite a dire strait. I am about to be trapped in some kind of non-existence, and I need some kind of key to open some kind of door."
"That's neither here nor there. Now, please, be on your way."
"But my mother in law!"
At this, the homely chap's eyes grew wide, wider than a red herring. "What did you say?"
"My mother in law: she'll come after me if I get locked away in this nondescript dungeon."
"Good gravy, sir! We can't have that! My name is Ravioli, and I am here to help you at whatever cost!"
"Thank you so ... wait. Your name is Ravioli?"
"Yes! We haven't a moment to lose!"
"Hold hold hold on. Who in the world named you Ravioli?"
"What? My mother of course! Now, we must be off!"
Harold could only stifle a snicker.
"Well, fine then. You can have a fine little, eternal chuckle to yourself while you're stuck in your fine, little prison."
"No no! I didn't mean it. It was just an unexpected startle. You know? Anyway, right you are. Let us be off!"
Ravioli glared at him for an instant but quickly stepped beside him to walk North.