Gumball pauses. Then he starts dancing . Not well. Not rhythmically. He performs the “Soggy Noodle,” the “Reverse Lawnmower,” and the “Emotionally Distant Grandpa.” The logic field around Noctorum flickers.

At Elmore Junior High, the hallways are silent. No lockers slam. No spitballs fly. Principal Brown stands at the front of the auditorium, but he’s not sweating, stuttering, or wearing a questionable toupee. His tie is straight. His posture is rigid.

The doors burst open. In marches — a tall, featureless humanoid figure wearing a sleek, white suit and a blank, mirrored helmet. Behind her are two identical assistants holding clipboards that glow with ominous light. Her name: Inspector Noctorum .

WHACK.

“Oh, sugar lumps,” she says in a warm, squeaky voice. “I used to bake sentient cupcakes.”

“We don’t have a Fun Committee!”

“I missed this,” she says.