Deep beneath the city, where roots twist and stone whispers secrets, lived three kobolds: Klik, Klok, and Krak. Known in their burrow for mischief and uncanny teamwork, the trio was always poking where they shouldn’t. One fateful evening, a misstep during a tunnel dig sent them tumbling up — yes, up — through a broken sewer grate and straight into the chaotic surface world.

Blinking in the glow of streetlights and stunned by the smell of roasted peanuts and exhaust fumes, Klik sniffed, Krak panicked, and Klok shouted, “Camouflage!”

They darted into an alley and found salvation: a long, dusty trenchcoat dangling from a dumpster hook. Krak insisted it was a magical robe of blending. Klik just liked how it smelled. Together, they scrambled inside, one on the bottom, one in the middle, and one barely balancing on top with a fedora they’d swiped from a laundromat window.

Thus disguised — or so they thought — they wobbled toward the nearest building with flashing lights and a big crowd. A theater. The scent of popcorn was too powerful to resist, the smell of nacho cheese too alluring. A distracted ticket vendor didn’t question the oddly shaped “patron,” and moments later, the kobolds were seated in the dark, enchanted by the sheer magic of cinema.

Klik cried during the previews. Klok threw popcorn at people behind them. Krak tried to swordfight the on-screen villain with a straw.

They were kicked out 42 minutes in.

Still, as they clumsily scuttled back toward the shadows with bellies full of soda and dreams of sequels, one thing was certain: the surface world was weird… and they liked it.

And that trenchcoat? They’re NEVER taking it off.

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