Noctorum’s first target: . The blue balloon boy floats forward, smiling.
The eraser shatters into a billion glittery particles that rain down on Elmore as confetti. The gray filter explodes. Color returns — oversaturated, neon, beautiful. The sun grows googly eyes. The school lockers begin singing barbershop harmonies again.
“Exactly,” Darwin says, dead-eyed.
“I missed this,” she says.
Darwin swims into the bathroom. He looks… normal. But he’s wearing a tiny tie. “Gumball, your punchline-to-life ratio is dangerously low. I’ve filed a complaint with the Fun Committee.”
“Next,” Noctorum says, pointing at , the slice of bread with legs. “Carbohydrate with sentience. Unacceptable.”
Noctorum — now — sits on a cloud, eating a pie she just pulled out of thin air. The Bureau has retreated.
“We always do,” Gumball says, pulling a giant lollipop from his ear and licking it. “Hey, what’s for dinner?”