The photo-count for Surprise Visit is up to an almighty 138. Hardly enough for an Earplug Adventure: but a bloody good start. So, without further ado, let’s go there!
THE PROLOGUE CONTINUES…
A short while later, Walker Crabtrouser visited the catacombs beneath the council chambers and met with a soldier…
“Private Fermin Gusset reporting for duty, Sir.” the soldier snapped as he stood to attention before the military leader of Scroton. “Ah, what do you want me to do?”
“At ease, Gusset.” Walker replied. “Would you like me to call you Fermin?”
“Ah, not sure, Sir.” Fermin answered. “Depends on what happens next. I’ve never been alone with a superior officer in the catacombs before. Not quite sure what the protocol is.”
“Don’t concern yourself, Fermin.” Walker tried a smile. “Nothing underhand or dodgy; just want the right cable end for the job of protecting our fabulous leader on his vacation in the Museum of Future Technology. Now I believe that you can see in the dark jolly well; is that right?”
“It is, Sir.” Fermin responded instantaneously. “Inherited it from my mother, Sir. I can also punch people really hard. I’m a crack shot with a bow and arrow. I have boundless energy – physical, mental, and spiritual. I can think on my feet, so to speak. I can run and run and run without getting so tired that I have to sit down for an hour to recover. I can eat anything, up to and including coal. I can blow down doors without the need for explosives. I can go for days without having a poop. And I hate anyone who threatens this wondrous civilisation into which I was blessed to be born.”
Walker was impressed, though he did wonder how Fermin was able to blow down doors without explosives. He assumed gastric gasses were involved in some way. “Then I was well informed.” He responded to the litany of skills. “Clearly you are the ideal candidate for the role of bodyguard to our glorious leader. Just one thing: you don’t get space sick, do you?”
“Never, Sir.” Fermin replied. “Cast iron gut. Which reminds me, Sir: I have acidic bile – strong enough to burn through pre-stressed concrete. If someone were to imprison the Golden One in a hardened bunker or suchlike, I could probably get him out with only third degree burns.”
Walker couldn’t help but show how impressed he was with the young soldier’s talents and enthusiasm. “Remarkable.” He said. “Just for that, you don’t have to address me as ‘Sir’ anymore: call me Walker. Or, if we’re in company, Field Marshall. ”
He would have said more, but he thought he heard movement nearby…
“Did you hear that, Fermin?” He whispered.
“Sorry, Walker.” Fermin replied. “The batteries in my deaf-aids have gone flat: but I can lip read with the best of ‘em.”
“Oh well, no matter.” Walker concluded. “We’d best be on our way. Make yourself available at the drop of a hat. Okay?”
With those words reverberating off the ancient walls, they went their separate ways…
However, Walker hadn’t been mistaken when he thought he’d heard something moving in the catacombs nearby. Two mysterious figures loitered beneath the lighting panel next door, in Bay Ten…
“We must inform the chief,” the red cable end said to the pale grey cable end. “This is a most unfortunate happenstance. Perhaps our plans will require tweaking slightly. Who would have guessed that Nigel would choose now to visit the Museum of Future Technology? What a complete git he is!”
© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022
What’s this – spies in the bosom of Scroton? Surely it can’t be true! To see what happens next, tune in again next time.
Tooty Nolan: Languishing Somewhere Between Clever and Stupid 
Love the catacombs.
A perfect use for some old cardboard packaging. Better than throwing it away.