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

 

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