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Mad Mr Viscous, the owner of a glue factory, is hell-bent on making his fortune, selling glue made from his secret ingredient – horses. Determined to put a stop to it, Jimmy and his best friend Eric set off on a fantastic adventure, battling witches, warlocks, animalistics – and MAD MR VISCOUS.

In a town, not so distant, where shadows often grew,
Stood a factory tall and eerie, owned by Mad Mr. Viscous, too.
A place where whispers grew to tales of old,
Where children’s feet grew cold, when they were told,
Of the glue that bound the very souls of the town so true.

Mad Mr. Viscous, with his wild cackling laugh,
And eyes that gleamed like a madman’s half-lit staff,
With his apron stained and his hat askew,
He’d stir and mix, brew and cast,
The stickiest glue that ever was.

He’d gather the ingredients under the moon’s pale glow,
In his cauldron of secrets, in his workshop of woe.
Bones of the lost and the tears of the damned,
All to make his potion so grand,
A glue that could hold fast what the world did not know.

The factory chimneys, they’d belch forth a smoke,
Thick and black, like the darkest of jokes,
It wrapped around the town like a shroud,
Silencing the cries of those who’d dared approach,
To the lair of Mad Mr. Viscous, in his glue factory so cloak.

The walls were thick with the whispers of the trapped,
Their cries for help forever enrapt,
In the sticky embrace of the glue so foul,
A prison of despair, a fate so cruel,
Where the lost souls of the town did forever dwell.

He’d catch the town’s secrets, the whispers in flight,
With his glue, he’d bind them tight,
To the pages of his tome of lore,
Where they could speak nevermore,
Forever silenced in the glue factory’s lightless well.

The townsfolk lived in fear, each day anew,
Of the madman and his glue that grew,
They knew not what he sought to achieve,
What twisted plot did he conceive,
In the heart of his factory so fell and fell.

One brave soul, young and bright, did dare,
To venture forth in the moon’s gossamer glare,
With a heart of hope and a sprig of peppermint,
To set the secrets and souls free from their glint,
And to bring an end to the madman’s reign so fell.

In she crept, through the doors of despair,
The smell of amber and fear in the air,
The cauldron bubbled with a witch’s brew,
As Mad Mr. Viscous sang his tune so true,
Oblivious to the girl with the minty flair.

With a touch of the mint to the cauldron’s side,
The glue began to loosen its tie,
The whispers grew louder, the smoke grew thin,
As the souls began to unbind,
From the madness that had held them there.

The secrets flew out, a storm of white,
Their voices now free to take flight,
They soared through the town, a silent scream,
Exposing the lies of the madman’s scheme,
And the truth was revealed to all to see.

Mad Mr. Viscous, his plan unfurled,
Faced the wrath of the souls of the world,
They bound him in his own glue so fast,
In his factory that was now theirs at last,
And the town, once bound, was free and clear.

The chimneys now smoke-free, the air so mild,
The children laugh, their spirits wild,
The glue factory stands, a monument of old,
But now it’s a place of tales so bold,
Where Mad Mr. Viscous’s spirit is forever curled.

So if you’re ever in a town so blue,
Where whispers of the past come through,
Remember the girl with the minty might,
And the madman who lost his fight,
In the glue factory that saw the light of day appear.