Earplug Adventures: Triple Threat (part 2)


Precious few shots in the can so far, but let’s not allow that deficiency to thwart the second episode. Go!

Chapter 1

The day had begun rather badly for three would-be recruits to the armed forces of the Museum of Future Technology. Or TWIT as it was better known. No one could recall why TWIT had been so named. Some suggested that the words Tactical and Weapons might have constituted the first two letters of the acronym; but no one was putting money on it. And since TWIT’s commanding officer, Major Flaccid, was a bone fide twit, himself, the organisation’s moniker seemed most appropriate. Bunty Bridgewater now led her chums, Ginger Slack and Daisy Woodnut along one of many corridors that spread like the threads of some vast fungi through the great edifice…

They had conducted an aptitude test on-line, and had consequently been invited to an interview at the TWIT headquarters, Swottan Hetty…

…which was undergoing refurbishment, following an unexpected attack to its foundations by giant lungworms. Naturally neither of the trio of hopefuls wanted to arrive early, just in case they found themselves conscripted into hod carrying or arc welding – neither of which had been on their college curriculums. So now they wasted the surplus time by wandering around and taking in the sights. Sights such as the world-famous Main Thoroughfare…

…which had appeared in several action movies, and thrilled Daisy to the point where she thought she was about to vomit with excitement.

Fortunately Bunty and Ginger were able to bring their friend’s momentary madness under control by having her breathe into a bag of wine gums. But the interruption had been enough to throw off their innate sense of direction, and soon they found themselves stumbling into the Grand Hall…

…in which a permanently-stationed (and bored witless) RoboSecGua roared in outrage at their intrusion:

“What the flipping heck do you think you’re doing here?” It snarled in a tinny mono-tonal…ugh…snarl…through its speaker grill. “You’re nobodies. You’re silicon scum. Get lost.”

Startled by this outburst of overtly racist cyber-rage, Bunty, Ginger and Daisy quickly retreated to a quiet section in which Daisy accessed the museum’s Artificial Intelligence interface to ask for directions to Swottan Hetty…

…whilst Ginger displayed her ability to produce visible spectrum botty bugles.

“Swottan Hetty?” The A.I inquired. “Surely, you’re aware that it is currently undergoing refurbishment following an attack of giant lungworms?”

Daisy wasn’t aware of the existence of rhetorical questions, but before she could summon a response from her startled brain, the A.I continued:

“There’s a list of temporary TWIT offices throughout this magnificent edifice. A list can be purchased, for a small fee, at any Café Puke outlet. Now I’m a very busy  computer program, so go away and don’t bother me again.”

Unfortunately Ginger’s gaseous emission had effected Bunty’s mental abilities in a negative manner, so she failed to notice the Café Puke signage behind her. It hadn’t done Ginger’s thought processes any favours either, so before long the stoned young female was thoroughly enjoying herself, bobbing up and down in the updraft of the deep fat fryer extractor fan in Mister Pong’s exotic food restaurant…

Worst still, Daisy recognised the earplug who was just exiting the restaurant – him being, none other than, Major Flaccid himself!

“Oh crumbs,” Bunty said when she learned this, “let’s hope he never noticed Ginger’s aerial gyrations.”

“Hmm,” Daisy responded, “you never know, he might be deaf and blind.”

Despite this, time remained in abundence, so the girls took themselves off to the Kiddies Maze…

…where, in their excitement, they got in the way of several parents who had lost their stupid children in the huge circular puzzle. But, despite the aforementioned innate sense of direction, all three were baffled by its circumambience. Of course that didn’t stop them enjoying the act of trying to find the way out…

But, as the minutes ticked by, and nerves grew taut, desperation set in, and before long they found themselves at the centre of the maze…

“Okay,” Daisy said as her face was pushed against the side of the tiny cylindrical space, “how did that happen?”

“Guess we’re not the genii our parents hoped for.” Bunty replied.

“I’m claustrophobic,” Ginger cried out. “My geography teacher told me so. I feel nauseous. I’m getting the heck outta here!”

With that she climbed upon the shoulders of her friends and escaped on to the central ‘island’. She was soon joined by the quicker-thinking Bunty…

“We can jump across the gaps.” She suggested. “There’s a maintenance tunnel over there, in the shadows: it’ll probably lead us somewhere else: let’s head for that.”

Five minutes later…

“Oh crikey,” Daisy wailed, “where are we now?”

“Look,” Bunty yelped as her keen eyes spotted a pair of elevator doors, “let’s give them a try.”

But, having risen through several floors at almost breakneck speed, the trio were no closer to their destination: in fact they were on the roof…

…where they witnessed the departure of two space submarine freighters.

“By the Saint of All Earplugs,” a breathless Daisy whispered, “I’ve died and gone to Silicon Valley. I’ve always wanted to go on a space submarine: and here’s two of them, almost within arm’s reach. Aren’t they wonderful? So black and bulbous!”

“If you like that sort of thing.” An unconvinced Ginger replied.

But Bunty was neither listening to the conversation nor gawping at the space submarines: her gaze was firmly attached to a door that led to the interior of the building. Upon it read the words: TWIT TEMPORARY OFFICE THIS WAY.

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2021

 

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