Mooky grinned. “Best job I never applied for.”

Mooky scratched his chin. “Huh. And here I thought my sinuses were just acting up.”

The seventeen Dollys merged into one. The Elvis dimension became a small, harmless pickle jar on Mooky’s counter. And the hedge fund from Dimension 404 evaporated into bad credit.

“It comes with a lifetime supply of harmonica reeds and a coupon for free gravy at the Waffle House.”

Prittle tipped its soggy hat. “Well done, Francis Mooky Duke Williams. You are officially a Level Seven Reality Janitor.”