Suddenly, he heard a high-pitched whistle. He looked down and saw a strange, orange-tinted fog rolling out of a cave.
He floated over to a group of big, white Cumulus clouds. “Hi! Can I hang out with you guys?” he asked, wiggling his purple edges.
The big clouds looked at him and shuddered. “Oh dear, no,” they huffed. “You’re far too bright. You’ll ruin our aesthetic for the landscape painters below. We can’t be friends.”
The Cirrus clouds pulled away. “We are very high-fashion and very thin,” they sniffed. “You are much too... chunky. We can’t be friends.”
Dub’s purple mist began to glow. “They told me I was too bright and too chunky!”
