Junior Earplug Adventures: The Masters of Scroton (Part Thirty-Four)


By chance two visitors stood upon the fake frozen expanse…

Also by chance both were brilliant mathematicians from the University of Droxford. In a split second they’d calculated the X1’s trajectory and it’s future crash site.

“Quick,” one said to the other, “get on the ‘phone to that new café and give them the bad news.”

At, about the same time, but in a different part of the universe, the polystyrene androids had picked up an in-coming flying machine on their video monitor…

They quickly called their overseers, the mushroom-shaped earplugs,  in to give them reassurances that the end was not nigh.

“Oops.” One of the mushrooms squeaked. “That looks like one of our master’s destroyer class protector ships. It can mean only one thing.”

A moment later the image shifted to a vast sphere that appeared to descend through the atmosphere of Scroton…

“Not good.” The purple android blob opined. “Not good. Not good. Not good. Argh!”

Then things got a lot less good when a voice boomed from the very fabric of the subterranean lair…

No one quite caught what it said because they were farting with fear too loudly to hear distinct words. But eventually the mushrooms calmed down enough to pay attention…

And what they heard made them ‘shush’ the android blobs into silence. So, as the blobs stood to attention…

…the voice roared: “You been bad boys and girls and gender non-specifics. You done stupid stuff. You been showin’ off an’ stuff. Only us clever guys do showin’ off kinda stuff. It aint your technology to use. Only us smart guys, what bring braininess to the universe, can use that. You got teeny-weeny brains; so you is bein’ replaced. You is all goin’ to new jobs – looking after some dumb-ass End Caps. An’ they got them a civil war too. Gonna be real dangerous there. Ha-ha-ha. Bet cha wish ya never gave them yella cable ends a helping hand now. Huh? So pack ya bags: you’s leavin’ in the mornin’.”

The mushrooms were stunned into catatonia…

“Gosh.” One of them managed eventually. “End Caps. Civil war. I can’t wait. Not!”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2017

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About Tooty Nolan

Writer of silly tales, taker of pictures, and all round good egg
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