Junior Earplug Adventures: Those Magnificent Earplugs (Part 29)


Once Magnuss had gotten the problem of a perturbed bladder out of the way, he turned his vast reservoir of skill, knowledge, and divine intellect, to the problem of the time shard-created museum.

“Well the way I see it, guys,” he said,”is that the false museum cannot be allowed to exist. Shutting down it’s half of the connection to Nul-space won’t be enough to bring all these time-shards back together. I know this to be true because I was abducted from my flying saucer, and then drawn through time and space to the Secret Cache. If that experience has taught me anything, it’s that I’m right. The Angel with a Huge Nose once told me that I’m a saint – literally. Obviously space-time couldn’t operate if it’s saints were fallible, or just plain wrong – and since it does work – if mysteriously at times – I figure I’m right about this theory too. So, what I’m saying is…”

Ten minutes later Rudi and Valentine were standing together in intense concentration…

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In fact they were concentrating on making a telepathic connection with the distant Miles and Chester so hard that they went all boss-eyed. Although he was busy doing other stuff, like telling the curators what to do, Magnuss realised that accurate communication over such a vast distance would be problematic at best; so he joined his brothers…

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…hoping that his added brain power would help bridge the gap. Although it was physically demanding, soon Miles and Chester became entranced…

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And when the telepathic message became comprehensible, they told Buttox and the others all about it. Thereafter they made their way to the switch room…

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…with  the intention of shutting down the false Nul-space generator. But this act was fraught with danger – at least as far as those few temporary inhabitants of the false museum were concerned. Time was their great enemy: they had all washed their filthy underwear, and were waiting for it to dry. Departing a rapidly cooling museum without their caks on was unthinkable, and akin to slow suicide. So they needed an alternative power source: and this power source came in the form of an ancient artefact that resided in the  bowels of the museum…

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…and it was Zak and Bolah’s job to get the diesel engine up and running pretty damn quick.

“I hope there’s fuel in that tank.” Zak said nervously. “But even if there is, how do we know it’s volatile? Maybe time-shard stuff doesn’t work. If that’s the case, we’re stuffed.”

“Optimism, Zak, honey.” Bolah replied. “It can work wonders.”

Meanwhile, further up the mountain, two of the four monks that manned the outpost at the head of the gorge that led to Lemon Stone – those being Brother Gilman Imp and Dilbert Chunder – were engaged upon an act, which they hoped would result in the freeing of their imprisoned fellow monks, Brother Hugo Bernstoast and Brother Austin Quango…

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They were, in fact, about to break into the vestibule that housed the Holy Sniper Rifle.

As they did so, Zak and Bolah set to work on the diesel engine…

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“There are a few litres of fuel in here.” Zak grumbled. “Enough to keep it running for a half-hour maybe. If you can get it started, of course.”

In Lemon Stone, Dilbert and Gilman were less pessimistic…

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They’d managed to circumvent the security length of string that was stretched across the door to trip unwelcome visitors, and now regarded the Holy Sniper Rifle. Well Dilbert did: Gilman was too busy watching the door.

In the false museum, Zak and Bolah were also meeting with success…

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The ancient generator engine chugged into smokey life. And what’s more, Dilbert and Gilman were matching that high level of success…

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They were running off with the Holy Sniper Rifle.

Zak and Bolah were running off too – to meet with the others…

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A short while later Buttox was leading them into the lower reaches, to find the insane Sentinel Robot…

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Quickly they followed some loud crunching noises – to the infamous press in which (long ago) the popular (but exasperated) actor, Brian Blasted, had tried to squash the former zombie clone, Magginess…

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In this case, the former revenge-mad robot was smashing up as many chairs as it could find, which proved, pretty conclusively, that it was totally crackers.

© 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, Tooty Stuff, Writing / Books and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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