Junior Earplug Adventures: Winning Numbers (Part Forty-Four)


Well, after such a powerful tug upon their heartstrings, the audience felt ready for a quick prance around the stage by the Greenhorn Girls; quickly followed by the show’s finale, in which all the performers returned for the last time…

Even Charles and Wolfgang came back; smiled; and joined in with the last song, which was entitled ‘We’re Really Nice Guys; Don’t Blast us into Space’.

Then, as the music died away, everyone stood stock-still and waited…

…their smiles fixed in desperate hope. Well except Hellfire, who sadly broke the silence with a loud and unexpected burp.

Then, upon the bridge main screen, something stirred…

The alien vessel made a slow roll to starboard, exposing its glowing drive unit.

Of course Sinclair was made fully aware of this by his wrist communicator. “Hey, everybody.” He boomed. “Look out of the window.”

Without hesitation the entire crew raced to comply with their commanding officer’s instruction…

And what they saw astonished them…

The alien ship was moving away from the K T Woo. It was a slow process – as though, thought Chester, to give itself some maneuvering room. Then a glowing object burst from the ship and closed upon the K T Woo…

“Ooh-er.” Everyone said nervously.  “That’s kind of pretty.”

But then their cognitive abilities were almost torn from them by sheer astonishment, as each and everyone, irrespective of their location within the K T Woo, saw an alien visitation appear right in front of them…

Six impossibly blue gaseous beings, the like of which none of them could ever have imagined, glowed coolly in the air before them.

“Well what do we think of that?” One of them asked the others.

“I liked those jokers with the torque wrench.” One of the gaseous beings replied. “All that cursing: very civilised. I fully approve.”

“Uh-huh.” The first speaker continued. “What about you other four?”

“That wannabe conquistador act was very touching.” The first response came quickly. “Liked it. Liked Boppy too.”

“That hiker was a hoot.” Another added.

“I thought the dancing girls moved very well.” Said the third.

The fourth gaseous being took a few moments to choose its words carefully. Eventually it spoke: “Vera Glovebox should have shown them all her bum.”

A shudder of anticipation ran through the watching crew and passengers of the K T Woo. But as their nervous bottoms began to make unintended chuffing sounds, their fears were abruptly cast aside when the speaker continued  with: “But the songs were clearly the product of an advanced species. If I had any toes, I know I’d be tapping them along to that classic swing music rhythm. And if there is any chance that she’ll record those sea shanties…well I’ll be first in line to buy the resulting compact disc. They get my vote.”

A split second the beings were gone; as was the nearby object. Then the vast craft…

…accelerated away – leaving the K T Woo…

…hanging alone in interstellar space.

“Have they gone?” Sinclair inquired.

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018 

 

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