Somewhere in Middle Grammar, charging forward in unison and in what they referred to as their tank formation were the Coordinators, Comma’s allies.
They were a formidable sight—those narrow words who were inclined to peace but excelled at war. In tank formation, each was quadruple his size. One behind the other, they charged through Grammar, all their limbs having melded and transformed into something closely resembling the wheels and tracks of a military tank.
And led the assault, followed by But, who was in front of Or. They had the appearance of a combine but the grace of a feline. Their tracks and wheels made whirring and grating sounds as they rotated. They were forced to slow their pace when they encountered stacks of staples haphazardly strewn in their path. The staple stacks were piled horizontally, vertically, and diagonally, creating something of a three-dimensional maze. Some cowardly creature lurking in the shadows was trying to prevent them from coming to Comma’s aid. With barely a wobble, they rolled over the stacks easily, slowing their advance only slightly.
The Coordinators were not at all worried by their challenger. When a fresh pile of staples appeared before them, they knew with certainty that their challenger was still on the attack and in the vicinity. The staples in each stack were upside down, leaving sharp protrusions exposed. Some word was trying to derail the Coordinators and cause them serious injury. They would give the word a taste of the powers few Grammarians knew they had. Because of their ability to bind words, phrases and sentences, the Coordinators had what could only be described as magnetic powers over other words. They were mildly irritated by the inconvenience their challenger posed.
