Everything that could go wrong today had gone wrong. Mafalda had botched up an order that meant he had spent the entire day cutting up flobber worms. He hated it but he was a consummate professional and not even the pus of an invertebrate can keep him from fulfilling an order, even if it made him smell like puke afterward. It meant that he missed his evening walk home as there was no way he was braving the streets like this.