Junior Earplug Adventures: The Missing (Part 33)

It took a while for the curators to readjust to their new-found freedom; but by three-thirty that afternoon Cushions and Co had organised a celebration in the Great Hall…

Not everyone could attend, obviously. Many of them still felt the disgust of being crammed into Level Indigo together like oily canned mackerel, with only one small shared toilet for all of them, and so decided to shower repeatedly until they felt clean again. Others just couldn’t be bothered. Some wanted their mid-afternoon lemon drizzle cake fix. And two of them had openly welcomed an End Cap invasion, if only to break the monotony of living in a museum that featured exciting and potentially dangerous artefacts from across all of time – well the future anyway. But still a heck of a lot of them turned up. These included a bunch of nobodies, some curators, the museum Avatar, Auntie Doris, and the Angel with a Huge Nose…

Even Benjamin’s reality version of the Earplug Brothers arrived…

…complete with their Sunday Best Cossack hats. Naturally they felt obliged to stand in an area especially reserved for them…

Then the showgirls were introduced…

Naturally they were expected to form a kicking line, and duly obliged…

..though many were disappointed that they’d been forced to leave their sparkly sequined knickers on a radiator to dry after some wag had dropped them all into a lavatory bowl – ‘for laugh’, as he’d confessed when apprehended by Police Constable Salisbury Wilts…

…shortly after committing the crime. Still, being treated to a flash of the girls emergency big baggy bloomers was almost as much fun. Then the Avatar called upon Magnuss himself…

“Magnuss,” she said, “ya done good boy.” This surprised Magnuss because the Avatar in his reality spoke so much more eloquently: but he smiled anyway. “We been done got ya somethin’ real special.” The Avatar continued. “We only give it to real good guys – know what I mean?”

Naturally Magnuss understood, despite the Avatar’s terrible diction. “That’s nice.” He said. “What is it?”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2017



About Tooty Nolan

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