Junior Earplug Adventures: Plunging into Peril (Part Two)


Neither Frank, Zak, Bolah or Buttox really wanted to be back in Lemon Stone, particularly because all of them had fled the establishment for a variety of reasons. So it was under the cover of darkness that Frank led Mister Zinc to the Farting Frog religious icon…

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Whilst he explained Zinc’s new duties as the Father Superior, whereby he must first kiss the frog’s foot,  Zak and Bolah stood by and shuddered at the recollection of their task in the Order…

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And it was a dreadful task…

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…breaking wind into a vast sound amplifier that simulated the spoken word of the huge icon, with which the Father Superior would influence his followers.

“Great.” Zinc grunted in the growing light of dawn…

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…”That little act means that I’m the boss, does it? Do I get a scroll, sceptre, diploma, or something to prove that I’m fit for office?”

“No.” Frank replied. “I rubber stamp your backside. If anyone questions your right to rule, just drop your trousers and show them your bum.”

He then handed Zinc the keys to his apartments, his wardrobe of regal finery, and the holy Biscuit Barrel, and promptly departed – with Zak, Bolah, and Buttox in close attendance…

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“Hey, Frank,” Zak cried out as they crossed a frosty field that had recently been plowed, “why have you brought us to the agricultural region of Lemon Stone?”

“I contacted the Land Registry Office whilst we were in the Museum of Future Technology.” The former monk-boss explained. “I’ve bought this place. It comes with a farm-house and seventeen hectares of mountainside terracing. I’m gonna become a pea farmer! Mountain peas, that is. And the great thing is, transporting them to the distribution centre on the plain below it gonna be so cheap and easy: I’ll just roll my wheelbarrow down the mountain, then pull it back up with a rope.”

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It was a foolproof plan, and whilst Frank dreamed of how green and lush his land might look in the Springtime, Bolah suggested that they leave before their former leader conscripted them into his employment again. But as they slipped away, a vicious squall blew in…

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Within seconds the temperature dropped, and the ground beneath the pink earplug’s feet became slippery and hazardous.

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“Ooh-er.” Buttox complained. “Mister Zinc wasn’t the only traveller to omit packing his woolly underwear.”

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“Me too.” Bolah squeaked as the snow thickened. “But we can’t go back: we’ll be arrested. We have to find cover further down the mountain. Who knows, maybe we’ll find an abandoned shack or something quite similar.”

But despite Bolah’s best intentions they didn’t…

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Being male, both Zak and Bolah were naturally more hairy than poor little Buttox, and were therefore slightly more resistant to the cold. Whilst they were able to press ahead, she began to fall behind…

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In fact she fell so far behind…

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…that she lost sight of her colleagues.

“Oh bum.” She said through chattering teeth. “I’m done for now.”

© Paul Trevor Nolan

 

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About Tooty Nolan

Writer of silly tales, taker of pictures, and all round good egg
This entry was posted in Photography, Writing / Books and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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