Junior Earplug Adventures: The Masters of Scroton (Part Eighteen)

If the three girls thought they had trouble, it was nothing compared to Throgennis Frote. With Cuckoo’s normally creative head utterly devoid of ideas, he’d been forced to resume his tour of the museum – in the forlorn hope of sparking a few of her neurons. This included a trip to the chilled environment that had been created especially for visitors from the ice planet…

“I like it.” Cuckoo murmured as she took in the wintry ambience.

“You do?” A surprised Ice-Worlder remarked. “Won’t it make the coffee go cold rather quickly?”

This gave Throgennis, who lagged behind as he struggled through the snow, an idea: “We could serve iced coffee.” He called from behind a snow drift.

“Hmm,” Cuckoo responded as her eyes took in the view, “and coffee flavoured ice cream. Yes, I definitely like this.”

So, as the situation appeared to improve for one yellow earplug, far away on Scroton things couldn’t have been more different – or differenter, as the locals called it.

In the absence of coherent leadership, Nigel’s wife, who had recently changed her name to Beatrix, after being inspired by Magnuss’s tales of an earplug author named Beatrix Blotter, assumed the role. This didn’t sit well with some of the hierarchy…

“Oi, Big Nose,” The Queen of the Pygmies shouted above the general hubbub that filled the governing council chamber, “the position of leader isn’t hereditary, you know. He or she must be chosen!”

It was a good point – not lost on the others…

“She has a good point.” Julian Pram – Minister without Portfolio (or ideas) spoke up. “Not lost on any of us. Surely only our benefactors can select a replacement for the Golden One.”

Beatrix hadn’t thought of that…

“I’m sorry.” She said. “I hadn’t thought of that. It’s not that I’m being pre-emptive; trying to fill the power vacuüm; or clutching at elusive glory: I really thought that, as the Golden One’s wife, I was best-placed, and the most experienced in the affairs of ruling a planet wisely and fairly. So I jumped up here and volunteered.”

“Very altruistic of you, I’m sure.” The green-skinned Supreme Court Judge, Luscious Nobbleskip sneered. “So you didn’t do it to gain a position in society that was previously nothing more than a footnote in history, then? I put it to you that you desire fame, great wealth, and your own cable TV show – before the greater good of Scroton. That is the only reason that you now stand before us to claim jurisdiction over everything and everyone in cable end society. What do you say to that?” 

Well what Beatrix had to say to that accusation was very rude indeed. It was so rude, in fact, that the red ‘naughty light’ glowed red…

…which proved conclusively that Beatrix had sworn in the council chamber.

“Oh dear.” She said in a quieter tone. “Does that mean I’m in trouble?”

But before anyone could reply, a claxon sounded, and the chamber was bathed in the light of a crimson alert…

“Argh.” The Queen of the Pygmies screamed. “It must be liquid rock, better known as magma, bubbling up to the surface through a subterranean vent!” 

So everyone turned to regard the glowing door, and feared the worse.

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2017


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