Junior Earplug Adventures: Winning Numbers (Part Ten)


Of course, not everyone in the museum received good news…

“And where do you think you’re going?” The A.I snarled at one unfortunate couple, who just happened to comprise former prospector, Byron Whipsnaid and the female with whom he fell in love – high in the mystical mountain kingdom of Kah-Ki-Pu, upon the doomed Worstworld – former bar-owner, Lilac Earthdamsel . “You’re not winners. Get back inside your hovel and feel miserable for the rest of the day.”

“Up yours.” Byron snapped back. “We’re off down the pub.”

Others did no better…

“Hey, Stupid and Stupider.” The A.I jested. “Guess you’re gonna have to sell your stupid hats now. That’s if you wanna eat tonight.”

The A.I was into its stride now. It even picked on crowds…

“Bunch of wallies.” It sneered, as it’s victims scurried away. “Go and boil your heads.”

And heaven forbid that it detected anyone who didn’t conform to its strict dress code…

“That is a loser’s hat.” It said to a rubber bung in traditional garb. “I blow my comedy nose at you. Loser!”

In the apartment that he shared with Hair-Trigger Provost, Magnuss Earplug was watching on TV…

“This guy’s funny.” Hair-Trigger opined.

“I agree.” Magnuss replied. “But it’s got to stop.”

“A.I!” He roared from his seat. 

The Artificial Intelligence paused mid-tirade. “Ugh?” It grunted.

“Do you know who I am?” Magnuss demanded.

In a much less confrontational – almost schoolboyish – tone, the A.I replied: “Um…Magnuss Earplug?”

“Correct. Now do you know what I can have Cushions Smethwyke do with you?”

The A.I was loathe to reply, but it did anyway: “Um, does it have anything to do with shoving something metaphysical up my cyber-bottom?” It inquired.

“It does.” Hair-Trigger replied upon Magnuss’ behalf. “So stop being so snotty. You’re just a public servant, you know!”

Moments later…

“Didn’t we do well? ” Magnuss said with a smile. “He’s switched himself off.”

“We certainly did.” Hair-Trigger replied. “I think we deserve a nice cup of tea and a slab of malt loaf.”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2017

 

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