The chomp thanked his stars that the blast had not been aimed in his direction. Better to have this stinking chomp as friend rather than foe.

The second rank of pies was rolling towards them, ready to launch their attack while Poot was still busy reloading his digestive pipeline for the next blast. So it was the chomp's turn to shine. He licked his chomper in anticipation.

The rank broke into two groups of five pies each. Poot was about five metres to his right. Half of them began to fly in Poot's direction while the other half came for him. The chomp leapt for his currently indisposed friend, grabbing him and rolling them both out of the way.

The momentum of the pies sent them flying a few metres past the duo before they fell to the ground. Based on the chomp's observations, it seemed that they operated on short bursts of energy - they waited till they had gathered enough energy from some unknown source, used it to propel themselves, and then fell and remained inert till they could gather energy for the next attack.

Quickly, the chomp leapt for the fallen pies before they could levitate again, chomping away on them hungrily. He wasn't a big fan of custard, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

He even tossed a pecan pie in Poot's direction - more pie in the smelly chomp's belly would mean a bigger blast. A chiffon pie began to levitate before the chomp could get to it. Lighter and fluffier than its comrades, it needed lesser energy and so had a faster recovery time.

"Oh no you don't", said the chomp, and leapt with the grace of a puppy snatching a frisbee out of the air. The poor pie didn't stand a chance.