…the girls clambered out from the crevasse. Weevil ‘harrumphed’ loudly from the tail-gunner’s position; then complained: “When I joined the Geisha Adventure team, I never expected to use pitons, crampons, and other climbing paraphernalia. My dainty Geisha clogs are utterly ruined. And I had to pay for them, out of my wages, too! You know, I’ve a good mind to quit.”
“Oh, don’t do anything rash.” Maureen warned her colleague…
“Indeed, Weevil.” Yaki said through a hidden smile. “It’s an awfully long way back to the Museum of Future Technology. Wouldn’t you rather ride in my nice warm armoured personnel carrier?”
Weevil might have been feeling disenchanted with her choice of career; but she wasn’t stupid. “Did I say ‘Quit‘? Of course I was referring to smoking. Clogged lungs play merry havoc with assailing precipitous rock faces and the like.”
So, moments later…
…Yaki was guiding her vehicle home. But conditions had worsened during the course of her rescue mission…
…and the motor struggled with frozen coolant pipes. Worse still…
…the deepening snow had sucked some of the oxygen out of the air – further reducing the efficiency of the carrier’s power plant. In fact Yaki was getting decidedly flappy in the undergarments department, as…
…her vision slowly blurred in the terrible conditions. But she thankfully gave up a prayer to the Saint of All Earplugs as her vehicle stuttered to a halt only slightly short of her carport.
“Quick, everyone.” She shouted whilst dismounting. “Get indoors, before our knickers freeze to our buttocks like superglue!”
Naturally no one wasted a nanosecond…
…and within five minutes Yaki had returned to Valerie…
“Well, Val,” She said – in far better frame of mind since the safe return of her Geishas, “now we can enjoy the snow. Let’s get outside and winter boogie!”
So they did…
…and they both enjoyed themselves enormously.
Whilst the curvaceous beauties frolicked without shame, former space-plugs, Richter and Beaufort, were en route to their rented rooms…
“What do you think of Whoops Brannigan’s plan, Beau?” Richter asked his brother.
And Beaufort replied: “It’s the end of the world – and we’re running away. It doesn’t feel right at all. How will history judge us? How will anyone from the future know that we were ever here? It’s like becoming extinct – but without dying. Can’t say I’m keen at all: but what other choice do we have? I just hope they have toilets in the alternate quantum reality: I hate pooping in ditches!”
© Paul Trevor Nolan 2019