Saw Dust Art: Wild Alien Ocean

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The Time Tamperer (part 42)

But Mister Pong found himself hesitant to begin, especially when he noticed the RoboSecGuas lined up – menacingly, he thought – against the Grand Hall’s walls…

“Er,” he prefaced his oratory, “here goes. I, Piggies Du Pong, hereby state that, with a few brainwashed exceptions, whom I require to service my needs, you are all to vacate the Museum of Technology…

…immediately. You will be led across the Obsidian Plain, to a subterranean place of incarceration, which, incidentally, is a re-creation of an equally subterranean Martian village…

…where you will remain until I think of something useful for you to do. Okay – yeah?”

The populace looked at each other…

“Ye Gods.” A particularly ugly sod with bulging yellow eyes and huge sharp incisors exclaimed.” This is outrageous. I’m outraged. In fact I couldn’t be more outraged if I’d attended lessons in outragism at the University of Outrageousness!”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” His vaguely fish-faced friend replied. “I’m a bit cheesed off too. I once visited the Martian exhibit: I wasn’t impressed: there was no Cafe Puke and the toilets were blocked with cigarette butts.”

Others were no less unimpressed…

Some stared wildly: whilst others gave sidelong looks at their neighbour’s startled out-gassings. But all agreed – including Piggies’ spokesplug…

…Mr Pong – that the situation was really poopy, and that they were powerless to resist…

So, before the hour was out, they were on their way across the bleak, featureless, Great Chalk Plain…

… en route to the Obsidian Plain, in a meandering, serpentine, sore-footed, caravan of misery…

“Move along, you bunch of useless half-wits.” The rear-most RoboSecGua squawked through it’s forward speech grill. “We haven’t got all night, you know!”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018

 

The Time Tamperer (part 41)

Meanwhile Piggies had led Mincey on a whistle-stop tour of his temporal edifice; but eventually he paused in a bright shiny place that reminded Mincey of a urine-infused splash pool…

There, he decided to tell Mincey the tale of how he had successfully depopulated the museum. “It was great fun.” He said. “There I was – standing in my newly acquired curator’s penthouse – looking out of the frosted glass lavatory window…

…when I decided to step out on to the balcony…

…and send for my right-hand RoboSecGua – best-known as EvilRoboSecGua…

It, in turn, summoned more operatives of the security force to my, admittedly vast balcony…

Who – yes you guessed it – summoned the rest…

So once every servomechanism was in place, I explained to them what I had done – being the brilliant severance of this era from all other periods in time. Naturally they made the only logical decision open to them: they pledged fealty to me.”

“Flipping heck!” Mincey exclaimed…

“Did you hear that, Heathrow? All the RoboSecGuas sided with Piggies DuPong!”

Heathrow wasn’t particularly worldly-wise; but even a plugmutt could see that the situation wasn’t the best it could possibly be. “Golly.” He responded.

But he said no more because Piggies continued his tale: “I contacted my namesake – an exotic restaurateur named Mister Pong…

…and threatened to have his noodle bar closed down if he didn’t act as my spokesplug to all of the most important people in the museum.”

“Hey,” Mister Pong began reading from a small note that I had handed to him, “Piggies DuPong’s got a message for all you guys and guy-esses. And I’m gonna read it to ya.”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018

 

The Time Tamperer (part 40)

For several seconds Piggies continued to stare at the image of Magnuss and Hair-Trigger in the hope that his brain would eventually recall some information about it. But it was from another source that he discovered both figure’s identity…

…as Heathrow arrived with a relieved Mincey aboard.

“Why hello.” Mincey said as Piggies turned to greet the unexpected intrusion, “I see you’re a fan of Magnuss Earplug and his daring girlfriend, Hair-Trigger Provost. I’m Mincey Muir, by the way, and I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to meet you: I’ve been dragged to this era on the back of this nauseating plugmutt. For a while there I thought this place was deserted.”

Piggies was a tad stunned by Mincey’s appearance; partly because he thought he’d successfully sealed his private era from the rest of time by cleverly sabotaging the Tunnel Temporal several years earlier, before supposedly inventing the faulty Tubo Di Tempo, which he’d designed to fail miserably on cue, in the future. He also recognised the actress from a TV farce she’d made in her early career, entitled ‘I’m Sorry, I’ve Dropped My Guts‘, and thought that she was quite the prettiest female earplug that he’d ever clapped his eyes upon. “Oh.” He replied. “That’s nice. I’m Piggies Du Pong: I think the Cafe Puke’s coffee machine still works: how’d you fancy a ghastly mug of coffee and a soggy biscuit?”

Well, at that precise moment, with her nerves frayed to within microns of tolerance, Mincey was game for anything. “Lead on.” She replied. “I hope they have sweeteners there; I’m watching my figure you know.”

And so the abducted earplug followed the temporal genius and megalomaniac as he rode his hover scooter away…

Meanwhile, far away in both time and space, the subjects of the populist poster were relaxing in the swimming pool of Magnuss’ auntie’s holiday home…

“It’s really nice and all that, Magnuss,” Hair-Trigger said hesitantly as their lounger bobbed up and down on the night-cooled water, “but after a few days doing sod-all, I’m feeling, you know, a bit stir-crazy. Do you think we might have another adventure together? It’s been quite a while since the last one. I’m afraid we might lose our touch.”

Magnuss had been feeling much the same way. “I don’t suppose Auntie Doris would mind if we took our leave.” He replied. “Quick; get paddling, Hairy.”

So, moments later…

…they were on their way back to the Museum of Future Technology, where…

…Cushions soon brought them up to speed concerning recent events.

“Oh, crikey.” Magnuss said when Cushions completed her oratory. “It looks like we arrived in the nick of…er…time. Well fear not, we’re on the case. We’ll have things sorted in a jiffy. Or my name isn’t Magnuss Magnificent Earplug!”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018

The Time Tamperer (part 39)

By the time that Tanganika had reached the nearest Transfer Conduit Station, dawn had broken and she was able to follow a pair station workers inside…

But as the pink and mauve duo made their way to their workplace, Tanganika proceeded alone along the imposing foyer…

…where she was horrified to discover that the lavatories remained locked. So, keeping her knees pressed together, she took the shortest route possible to the Travel Pods…

…where she was surprised to find the same two earplugs that she’d followed into the building earlier.

“Hello, aren’t you the early bird!” The pink station worker said with a welcoming smile.

“I suppose I am.” Tanganika replied. “Actually I’ve been up all night, walking here. Please tell me that you can transport me to the Museum of Future Technology directly from here.”

“Would you care for an orange travel pod?” The equally smiley mauve station worker said by way of an affirmative answer. “Or perhaps a slightly more expensive yellow pod?”

Naturally Tanganika enquired after the price disparity.

“The yellow pod,” the intuitive mauve station worker said knowingly, “stops off at half-way station…with toilet facilities.”

So, equally naturally, the crossed-legged Tanganika chose the more expensive option…

…and within moments of handing over the requisite number of Pluggentos, the daring space pilot was on her way…

…to an appointment with destiny.

At that precise moment an element of the aforementioned destiny was riding his hover scooter through the multitude of passageways, thoroughfares, and corridors of the Museum of Future Technology…

And he was enjoying it immensely – safe in the knowledge that the few remaining brain-washed inhabitants of the Museum of Future Technology were obeying his instruction to be somewhere else while he raced around like he owned the place, which, of course, he did. But then he hovered into range of a huge wall poster that caught his attention…

Stopping the scooter, he stepped off the futuristic machine and took a long look at the image of two figures that towered above him…

“Who the heck are they?” He grumbled. “Non-entities, obviously. But I’d better find out who they are just in case: my ignorance could impact upon the success of my amazing plan to rule the Museum in every era – from the dawn of time at the Big Bang, to the moment when the universe winks out of existence in the Big Crunch; not just this one.”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018