I don't want to be in the Glitch Production cartoon!

From time to time N would say something like “For every Mario of the Thing* there are his own Keys of the Thing**,” and then he would flash his impossible smile and drag the whole honest team into the thick of things. Or away from the thick of things, but in the end they still found themselves up to their necks in some amazing story. They even learned to enjoy it. In those rare moments when they were not being chased by shady people with weapons — from giant blasters to a head locked in a toilet — or were not afraid to go into the past, or into a parallel dimension, or into a prison in a neighboring state. Or Into SPAAAAACEE!!!! Five minutes ago they saw the Digital Building rising before their screen-eyes. That’s right, with a capital letter. A minute ago, a flying bubble with a shark’s mouth climbed up N’s coat onto his shoulder and handed him an envelope. V, accustomed (seemingly) to everything, went to explore the surroundings. J, who was (seemingly) used to everything, suddenly realized again that no, she still wasn’t used to it. And what was the name of this studio with chess kings, clowns and murders? “You must find an exit from this damned place,” N read from a piece of paper, which he took out of the envelope along with a check for seven million fifty-two thousand eleven Australian dollars. “Oh no,” thought V, who had returned from the street, and said out loud: - So that’s where this guy with the jaw instead of a head came from in the backyard. “Shut up! I don’t want to be in the Glitch Production cartoon!” thought J, who was watching the bubble metarun away. And she said out loud: — I’ll grab the ocean weapon.