Junior Earplug Adventures: The Masters of Scroton (Part Twenty-Two)

Meanwhile, way out in interstellar space, the X1’s progress continued unabated…

…and Nigel’s obsession with the Super Massive Drive control rod continued…

“Just bloody leave it alone, you weirdo!” Magnuss bellowed at him. “Touch that control rod again and I’ll touch you – right on the end of your super massive nose – with my fist!”

“I’m sorry, Magnuss.” Nigel said in his defense, “But this vessel is so tiny. I’m a big city kind of cable end: this place is making me stir crazy.”

Magnuss understood only too well. He also suffered from a degree of claustrophobia aboard ship. “Yeah,” he replied, “I wish I hadn’t suggested that we reduce the size of Ship Number Fifteen by a huge seventy-five percent. Fifty would have done fine.”

But it wasn’t only Magnuss and Nigel who were suffering from psychological problems at that precise moment: Edni Gilbatross wasn’t doing particularly well either. In fact she and Sponson and Saskia were being quietly run out of town, and they weren’t enjoying the experience…

Thousands of cable ends – of every hue and social position – had come to see them on their way. Some of them stood in stoic silence…

Whilst others threw insults of the most cutting kind. This forced the less apathetic Sponson and Saskia to remonstrate with them…

“We didn’t plan to do this – you bunch of big-jobs.” Sponson yelled at them.

“That’s right.” A supportive Saskia added. “We were just regular desert dwellers. If we hadn’t been so persecuted by your security forces, this would never have happened. So really it’s your fault – you load of ugly gits!” 

Then both had to run to catch up with Edni as she trudged onwards in silence…

…though Saskia did pause long enough to hurl a few insults back at their unwanted audience.

And in the underground lair, the polystyrene blobs were somewhat less than happy too…

“I don’t like the idea of bringing our masters in to deal with this.” The large blob opined openly.

“Yeah, too right.” Others replied.

“So what are gonna do about it?” Yet others asked.

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2017



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