Tag Archives: earplug adventures

Earplug Adventures Portrait: Stand Up And Be Counted!

This post first appeared in a now defunct blog.

Having been put on trial at the Galactic Court of Justice for the ‘crimes’ of all earplugkind, Throgennis Frote gives voice to his anger. In fact he tears them off a strip. He’s a mouthy little git. From We Stand Accused. Fascinating factoid: the whole idea for We Stand Accused came from the discovery of this prismatic sunlight on Tooty’s sitting room carpet.

Earplug Adventures Wallpaper: Approaching the Frontier

This post has appeared previously upon a defunct blog.

Ice-World border guards are caught…er…off-guard by the sudden arrival of Clancy Hardnut as he passengers aboard a hover sled – driven by Wendy Earwacks, who is a female member of the enemy’s blue-hued civilisation. They can barely believe their eyes: fraternisation between the races is unheard of. From Cold War. Fascinating factoid: when this story first appeared on the Internet in 2016, a reader was most amused by the ‘hover sled’. He recognised it as being a part from a cannibalized steam iron. He made no mention of the upturned Nescafe Dolce Gusto coffee pods though.

Silicon Life: Competition for the Cafe Puke!

Details of a catering merger have emerged that could threaten the continued success of the purveyors of the most vile coffee inside the Museum of Future Technology – Cafe Puke. Secret photographs taken in the undeveloped region of the arboretum strongly suggest that construction of a new cafe is well underway…

Although including a distinctive foyer, the building appears to follow the design of the majority of Cafe Puke outlets. But, as this photograph shows, the hoarding apparently makes mention of the rival cafe chain – Skanki Kaffe. However leaked pictures of the interior do not support this assertion. Workers were  tight lipped when quizzed about the new-build. Even Rupert Piles  and his huge 3D TV camera, despite trudging back a forth acoss the doorway all morning, could garner no information…

Nevertheless rumours continue to propagate, particularly when posters purporting that the endeavour is supported by the youngest of the the Earplug Brothers – twins Chester and Miles, and the famous Ice World scientist Uda Spritzer, appeared inside the half-completed future place of business…

Despite denials from Skanki Kaffe that the company has designs on supplanting Cafe Puke as the cafe of choice within the much vaunted and hallowed walls of the Museum of Future Technology, photographic evidence of a conversation between a representative of Skanki Kaffe, and Mister Pong – owner of several Exotic Food restaurants within the museum and the neighbouring conurbation of La Ciudad de Droxford cannot be ignored…

Further evidence came when the museum’s Avatar and the Angel with a Huge Nose were seen blessing the almost complete catering outlet in the middle of the night…

Apparently only the installation of a whooshy, gurgly coffee machine and a futuristic urinal is required to transform the building from a potential cafe into a proper emporium for the celebration of the humble coffee bean – complete with labels such as Cafe au Belch, Vomitino, and Desalinated – all well-known labels belonging to Skanki Kaffe. When interviewed through the side window of a Cafe Puke concession, general manager, Cool-Dude Plantagenate…

…was quoted as saying: “Couldn’t give a plugmutt’s arse. Bring it on Skanki: your Vomitino aint got nothing on our Crappachino: it’s almost potable!”

We await developments.

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2023

 

Earplug Adventures Wallpaper: Illicit Flight

This first appeared in a now defunct blog.

When Bubbles Gloor and Barclay Scrimmage stole the prototype Prowler from the Punting-Modesty Munitions Company, Bubbles couldn’t help showing it off to her mother, Millicent, and her ski coach boyfriend Wagontrain McCallister in their ski lodge at the end of a frozen fiord. From The Veil of Shytar. Fascinating factoid: The fiord is actually a hollow in the trunk of a fallen tree that has filled with water. Yes, I know it doesn’t look like it, but it is. Just goes to show what a photographic genius the creator of the Earplug Adventures really is!

 

Why Does A Guy Who Gives His Work Away Spend Real Money To Make It Better?

Answer: Because he’s stupid. Or Maybe because it’s a labour of love.

Although absolutely nothing has been done regarding the follow-up to The Veil of Shytar, Tooty hasn’t been entirely idle. He may have expended exactly no time whatsoever thinking about what path the next story might follow, but he has been reducing the size of his bank account by purchasing lighting equipment so that the non-existential sequel will be well-lit. Okay, it wasn’t a lot of money, but he had to earn it, which is more than his e-books will, coz he doesn’t sell them: he gives them away in PDF form. What a dope! But that’s by-the-by: let’s see what the dumbo’s been up to. Well firstly there’s this…

Look, nice, isn’t it?

At last Tooty can shoot without fear of the camera casting a bloody great shadow across the subjects. And regard…

…the same scene can be shot with differing shades and intensities…

Even a really warm glow…

What wonders might be performed with this light? But he was not content with a mere ring-light: he also bought a…

…head light, for close-up shooting in tight corners, where normally shadows are manifest. Of course the happy snapper couldn’t wait to shoot something fresh with his new ‘toys’, so he popped out to his local Sainsbury’s and snatched a yoghourt tray from the cooler shelf. I’m sure you’ll recognise it: it’s the one he uses to create the Cafe Puke outlets. And having done so, he created another…

Charming, don’t you think? Can you not imagine yourself standing beneath that blue light and soaking up the ambience? Here it is peopled…

And look at the bloody size of it: it’s massive!

“Why so big?” I hear you sub-vocalise.

Answer: So Tooty can get some depth of field in his micro-world shots. So characters can be emphasized better by placing the background out of focus…

It also allows him to remove some of the superstructure…

…which, in turn  facilitates the correct usage of the previously mentioned head-light…

All in all, money well spent – or so says he. Does it help create ideas for the next story? Er…no: but when he does think of something, it will look nice.

 

Earplug Adventures Wallpaper: Disappearing Act

The heroic Catering Assistant apparently ceases to exist moments before the destruction of the Drunkard’s Vomit.

From the fabulous 2022 story, Climatic Calamity

…which (as everyone knows) is available as a free PDF by simply clicking on the cover art.

 

Complete ‘Veil of Shytar’ Absolutely Free!

Yes, it’s that time again. That time when I give away the latest e-book in PDF form for you to either read on-line or download for home consumption. And that e-book is (of course) The Veil of Shytar. So just click on the cover image and it’s all yours to enjoy and (possibly) pore over and discuss its intellectual merits and nice pictures. In fact, should you be a university student or similar, perhaps you could write thesis on the evolution and development of the Earplug Adventures from early stream-of-consciousness witterings to the literary genius you see today – or something along those lines. But I digress: if you know what’s good for you, click that cover now. Read something unique!

Earplug Adventures: The Veil of Shytar (part 24)

Well that’s enough of whooshing about in space ships for the moment. This is where some proper sci-fi sticks its head around the corner and beckons to us. Respond accordingly: read on…

Chapter 11

Because the Veil of Shytar was oncoming, the distance between it and the Prowler closed quickly…

In fact Bubbles almost overshot her target and was forced to back-track slightly. Quickly matching velocity with the vast space anomaly, Bubbles unstrapped herself; pulled on some knickers; and proceeded from the cockpit into the lounge. Of course Barclay was in close attendance…

“The only way we are going to speak with that thing,” Bubbles said as she headed for the stairwell, “is by making physical contact. If we get up close and pseudo-personal, it won’t be able to ignore us.”

“Fine,” Barclay replied, “at least in theory. But what if it doesn’t want to talk? It could swat us like mosquitos. Moreover, have you considered the possibility that it can’t talk?”

“I have,” Bubbles snapped, “and I don’t like to think about it. If we can’t persuade it to protect Worstworld….then we’ve failed utterly. That is not an option.”

Once upon the lower deck, and despite her secret misgivings, Bubbles continued to march along resolutely…

“Getting across to the Veil shouldn’t be a problem,” She assured her partner. “Every Punting-Modesty vessel comes equipped with pressurised environmental bubbles for Extra-Vehicular Activities.”

“Oh goodie,” Barclay said only semi-sarcastically, “I’ve always wanted to do an EVA in the vacuum of space.”

Well, assuming that his statement was based upon a childhood ambition, Barclay got his wish. Sooner, rather than later, he and Bubbles vacated the Prowler

…and went scooting across the void to their destination.

Bubbles arrived first, though it was difficult for either of them to judge distance…

“I think I’m almost close enough to touch it.” She spoke upon her radio to Barclay. “No, wait a minute I think we’re passing through the strands into some other place that was hitherto hidden from us.”

Once beyond the strands, nothing they could see made sense to them.

“What the flipping heck is this thing?” Barclay said in his best complaining voice. “It doesn’t seem to have dimensions. There’s no up, down, width, height. I’m all bum-swizzled by it.”

However, moments after making the utterance, something tangible made its presence known…

“Bubs,” he cried out, “it’s an opening. A kind of hatch into somewhere else again!”

Well Bubbles couldn’t wait to investigate. Surely this was an invitation for them to proceed. “Stand aside,” she bellowed as she hit her thrusters, “coming through.”

A split second later…

…Barclay couldn’t help smiling as his chum raced ahead into another unknown situation. “That’s my girl.” He said proudly.

“Ooh, Barclay,” an unworried Bubbles called in a more ‘girly’ voice than was usual for her, “I think I’ve found something really interesting.”

“It’s not scary, then?” Barclay inquired hopefully.

“No, not at all.” Bubbles replied. “Ready yourself for touch down.”

Moments later both earplugs alighted upon, what appeared to be, a rough, natural surface. More significant though, was the crashed space ship that lay, half-buried in it…

“You know who this belongs to, don’t you?” Barclay said as he scrutenised the ruin from a safe distance. He answered his own question. “It’s that guy from Worstworld who first found the Veil of Shytar, and was lost when he came back to it.”

“Augustus Pronk.” Bubbles said. “His name was Augustus Pronk. I wonder if his body is still inside.”

“He might have survived.” Barclay suggested. “It’s not a long way down from that hole. The ship doesn’t look crumpled or anything. Let’s go see of we can find some evidense of him being here.”

Naturally both earplugs expected to find more of the same, So they were more than surprised that, having turned a corner, they found themselves in the open, upon a sandy beach with a blue sky above them…

“Now this I really didn’t expect.” Barclay said as he allowed his eyes to take in a view that clearly could not have been there.

“The air’s salty.” Bubbles informed him. I don’t know if that’s important.”

But before Barclay could reply, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a male earplug shouting something indecipherable at them.

Bubbles made a reasonable assumption: “I think we’ve found Augustus Pronk.”

Moments later they joined the pinky-orange earplug at the foot of a low sandy  cliff…

“Earplugs,” Augustus Pronk stated loudly. “You’re real, bone fide earplugs – made from silicon too!”

“We are indeed, Mister Pronk.” Bubbles replied with a giggle. “And we’re pleased to meet you too. Could you tell us something of this strange environment we find ourselves in?”

“Sure,” the smiling face of the long-lost earplug from Worstworld replied, “I can tell you all about it on the way to my personal clifftop hotel – the Augustus Pronk.”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

Photos of note in this episode include 6&8, which were taken as I lay beneath a parasol – looking straight up at the dazzling sun. The brightness gave me the idea of overlaying the characters and downed ship in silhouette. 7 was a filthy canvas pergola with a tear in it. And 9&10 were shot on my local Spanish beach a few years ago following a storm that dragged some of the sand away – leaving what you see. I thought it had possibilities then. Now I’ve finally gotten around to using the pictures in the way I had envisioned them. Talk about forward planning! The ‘cliff’ stood almost 15 centimetres high; and the building in 9 was pre-existing, but I added another floor and arch to make it look more like a hotel.

 

Isn’t It a Bloody Nuisance…

…that when the time comes for me to upload the free e-book version of The Veil of Shytar to this blog, WordPress won’t allow it in EPUB form? PDF does the job – just about: but look how it might appear as nature intended…

It’s just not the same, is it? Of course you could try downloading the PDF and then use an on-line app to convert it into EPUB: but I wouldn’t guarantee the result. It’s a bummer, so it is.

Task Complete: Hurrah!

Because I’ve pretty much matched the writing velocities of The Veil of Shytar with posts on this blog, I’m happy to say that there will be no shortfall in either the numeracy or fabulous literary and photographic quality in the final episodes that run up to the finale of this wondrous photo-novel and its inevitable epilogue. That’s coz its all done and dusted. All the I’s have been crossed and the T’s nicely dotted. Of course I shan’t release the finished PDF version here until the penultimate episode has ‘aired’; but at least you don’t need to worry yourself sick that the story will end abruptly, with no ending at all because I’ve either run of enthusiasm or fallen off a cliff – or both. As a visual taster, this is what the ‘cover’ looks like…

Nice, innit?

Earplug Adventures: The Veil of Shytar (part 18)

Lots of talky stuff in this episode. Heck, on a couple of occasions, they even get serious. Moreover –  no one visits the lavatory! Read on…

The conversation continued in much the same vein for a few minutes until it became clear to everyone that it had run its course. So as the two officers returned to their office, Lance took Bubbles and Barclay inside the building. In doing so they passed beside Silo Seven…

“What do you keep in these silos?” Bubbles inquired. “Nuclear missiles?”

“Grain.” The short-arsed soldier answered. He then expanded upon his reply, “Silos one through six are empty. We’ve not been able to get a decent harvest in years. Seven will be fully depleted by the end of the week.”

“Oh, Lance,” Bubbles wailed, “that’s terrible. Well at least I think it is. How many silos do you have?”

“Seven.” Lance replied. “The Catering Corps are looking into ways of roasting scorpions and cockroaches, and boiling sandworms; so we shouldn’t starve.”

“Talking of starving,” Barclay interrupted, “I haven’t eaten since breakfast-time yesterday – on Earth: how about some chow and a cup of coffee?”

Chapter 9

Bubbles had felt guilty about eating from the cavalry’s meagre supply; but having done so she felt much better physically. She even managed a smile as she stood beside Barclay and did her best to regard the view across the radiation-swept plain upon which Fort Dunderhead had been built…

Her smile was infectious, and as she came close to Barclay, he couldn’t help smiling himself.

“It’s been a funny old sort of day.” He said over his shoulder.

“Not the one I’d imagined.” Bubbles confessed. “And not better either.”

Then, as the exterior lights blazed and turned the dusk beyond the perimeter into night, both terrestrial earplugs turned their gaze away from the window…

…and looked at each other.

“Until we get the Prowler ship-shape,” Barclay said, “their problem is our problem.”

Bubbles opened her mouth to reply, but a sudden power-outage plunged the interior into semi-darkness…

Recovering, she spoke her intended words:

“If we could leave tonight, I wouldn’t. We have a super-advanced alien-based machine at our disposal, built by the Punting-Modesty Munitions Company: surely there’s something we can do.”

Barclay allowed his eyes to range along the compartment in which they stood:

“They have an advanced technological civilisation,” he replied, “and all they can do is either hide or flee. If someone can fix up the Prowler, I think that’s what we should do.” Then, following a pause of perhaps a heartbeat or two, he added: “Alternatively we could use it to good effect. I’ve been thinking about that strange curtain-like thing in space. Something tells me that it’s there for a reason. Or if it isn’t – well maybe we can give it a reason. Let’s go talk to the boss: maybe he knows something about it.”

Bubbles was thrilled by what she heard her subordinate say.

“Oh, Barclay,” she screamed as she cuddled up to him, “what a wonderful idea. Let’s go – right now.”

So, whilst electrical technicians elsewhere struggled to turn the lights back on, Bubbles wrapped an arm around Barclay’s, and together they strode off in search of the Commanding Officer’s quarters…  

Although Fort Dunderhead could be described as ‘big’, it didn’t take long for the determined earplugs to find Major Leftfoot-Badger’s office.  At first, though, they thought the room was empty. Only the presence of a pair of old-style cavalry hats informed them that anyone was home…

Of course, what neither Punting-Modesty employee could have known was that the Major wore contact lenses, and he and Lieutenant R Swypes were hidden from view as they searched the carpet beneath the Major’s desk for an errant lens. When they became aware that they were not alone, they quickly regained their feet and threw themselves into their chairs in time to greet their visitors…

“Ah, the terrestrials.” Leftfoot-Badger called out, despite the fact that he couldn’t actually see who stood before him. “I can smell the vacuum of space upon you.”

“Whadda ya want?” Swypes added.

As Barclay told the Worstworlders about their encounter in space, both cavalry-plugs donned their hats and came around the desk…

“Lieutenant Swypes,” the Major said as Barclay finished his description, “this is more your area of expertise: how about you strut your funky stuff.”

Swypes turned his attention to the visitors. “I believe you speak of the Veil of Shytar.” He said. “So named by a solo adventurer, by the name of Augustus Pronk, who flew his tiny one-earplug vessel from our world, in search of another upon which he could live in splendid isolation from his overbearing wife and soul-crushing off-spring. He was seated upon his tiny vessel’s sole lavatory, when the veil swam into view and startled him mightily. He decided to name the apparition after the lavatory seat upon which he sat. But, being a prudish society we altered his original nomenclature for the space anomaly to Shytar. The difference in pronunciation is slight, but it makes all the difference when discussed during a dinner party, governmental general assembly, waiting in line at a check-out, or whatever.”

“Fascinating,” Barclay interrupted rudely, “but what the flipping heck is it?”

“We have no idea.” Swypes replied as he sniffed disdainfully. “Since Augustus Pronk embarked upon a second journey to rendezvous with it – and never returned – no one has dared go near it.”

“Oh,” Bubbles said in surprise, “so you have no idea that it rejects sensor scans and cannon fire?”

“Er, no.” Swypes replied. “Um…what of it?”

“I’ll tell you what,” Bubbles snapped, “instead of cowering in the shadows and accepting defeat, the people of Worstworld should be trying anything and everything to make sure this planet survives the coming holocaust. The Veil of Shytar can deflect energy. How much energy? Could it stand against a nova? Shouldn’t someone be looking into the idea?”

The Major felt it his duty to take control of the conversation:

“Perhaps it is, young female,” he said in a not altogether stuffy or pompous manner, “but until this moment, no one has ever thought of it.”

Stepping from his desk he stood and spoke directly to Bubbles…

“We no longer have the capability to make this study.” He said. “Time is not on our side.”

Meanwhile Lieutenant Swypes was regarding a container of redundant machine guns. Barclay noticed this.  “You should use whatever weapons you can on such an implacable foe.” He said.

“Major,” Swypes addressed his superior, “might I suggest we do everything in our limited power to assist these wonderful earplugs in their efforts to utilise the Veil of Shytar against the coming nova?”

“What do you mean, Lieutenant?” Leftfoot-Badger responded hopefully.

“That we send a team of engineers to get their vessel fixed and fit to fly.” Swypes replied. “Bubbles and Barclay are our only weapons against the inevitable. We must send the willing conscripts into battle!”

These were rousing words spoken well in a surprisingly stentorian tone.

“Jeepers, R.” The major exploded, “you’re absolutely right. Enough of wasting our lives away sodding about in armoured vehicles: let’s give ‘em a fighting chance. Are you up for it, Bubbles?”

Bubbles, caught slightly off-guard, responded thus:

“Ugh, yeah…whatever. Let’s get down!”

The Major was thrilled by this reaction, so, only moments later, Lance Ottershoe arrived to escort their visitors from the office…

“You two hang around outside in the corridor.” He said as they headed for the door. “I’ll go rustle up some engineers and armoured personnel carriers.”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

In the early Earplug Adventure stories all the photos were taken at random. Then, when I figured I had enough shots, I would arrange them so that they told a story of sorts. It was a bit Stream of Consciousness, but trammelled by the pictures available to me. Later I reversed the process – thinking up the story and shooting appropriate photos. But the picture in this episode that features the box of machine guns  in the Major’s office returned me to my roots. I had no plan to use the gun’s presence the story; but their mere existance gave Barclay the opportunity to make the Lieutenant reconsider his position. A significant and timely result of this appears later in the story – you’ll know it when you see it. If I hadn’t included that box (as window dressing) in the scene when I shot it in my attic ‘studio’, the tale might have taken another path entirely. Stream of Consciousness continues to have a place in my stories. I think it’s a good way to write – at least for me, who can’t abide rules and restrictions: it allows an alternative narrative to exist.  

Earplug Adventures: The Veil of Shytar (part 15)

In this episode we discover that even intelligent earplugs can make very stupid decisions. Read on…

Within moments of this utterance, Bubbles had the Prowler turn through ninety degrees and head in the direction of…what…?

“I wonder what that is.” Barclay said as a multi-hued curtain-like apparition appeared in their forward viewer…

“Well,” Bubbles replied helpfully, “let’s think this through. It’s multi-hued – with lots of coloured strands: it seems to fluctuate between looking like a curtain or splayed out at angles that might be described as a sunburst shape.”

“And it’s hanging in space – far away from any planet or star – all by itself with nothing else around.” Barclay added. “What do you think?”

Bubbles didn’t reply immediately. She mused for several seconds before finally saying:

“I think we should get closer.”

“Agreed.” Barclay…ah…agreed. “But let’s not go too quick: we might startle it.”

As a result of this cautious approach it took flipping ages for the Prowler to finally adopt a position where the space anomaly filled the pilot’s view…

“That’s odd.” Bubbles said as she eyed her dials and tell-tales…

…”not only has it gone all sunbursty again; but I can’t get a distance reading on it. I don’t know how close we are. We could be kilometres away, or we could be within spitting distance of it. It seems to reflect my laser measuring light strangely so that I get either weird readings or none at all!”

“I’ll try all these advanced alien sensors we have fitted.” Barclay replied. “That should sort it out.”

But when he activated the technology created by a super-advanced alien culture that had disappeared into another Galaxy long ago, he got exactly nothing appearing in his read-outs.

“Bugger,” he said, “it’s seems to reject everything that tries to probe it. It’s like trying to see through a brick wall.”

“Or a lead-lined coffin.” Bubbles replied as she appeared to be musing again.

Barclay eyed his pilot. “So, what do we do – carry on with our journey and forget about this?”

“No, not just yet.” Bubbles answered his inquiry. “Let’s force the issue slightly. Set the atomic cannons to minimum yield. Let’s see if we can’t burn a tiny hole in…whatever it is.”

Barclay wasn’t entirely convinced of the wisdom of attacking a space anomaly with atomic cannons, but Bubbles was the boss and what she wanted she would get. “Minimum yield, aye.” He responded in an unprovoked bout of uncharacteristic professionalism.

“Fire!” Bubbles yelled as she shoved the throttles forward.

Instantly beams of irresistible energy leapt from the cannons like twin lances. But if those aboard the Prowler had hoped for any penetration of the apparition, they would be sorely disappointed. In fact they were more than disappointed: they were going to be grateful that their seats had built-in toilets – because the energy from their cannons was turned away by the mysterious collection of strands; concentrated; and redirected at the Prowler, which took the hit dead amidships…

The cockpit rang like a bell…

“What the heck?” Barclay managed.

Bubbles didn’t bother with either expletives or complaints: she was already in the act of spinning the ship about and hitting the gas pedal…

“Come on, Prowler, go-go-go!” She yelled.

Fortunately for the two young adventurers, their vessel had been fabulously well built, of the best possible materials, and bloody quick too. Within seconds it had freed its occupants of the need for fear…

…and had taken them so far away that they almost thought they’d either travelled through time, or into an alternative quantum reality.

Barclay gave Bubbles a look that said:

“That was dumb: don’t do it again.”

But his mouth said:

“Right then – shall we be on our way. I believe we were en route to a planet that orbits that blue-giant star?”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

Having turned 66 recently, you could be forgiven for thinking I really should have something better to do.

Earplug Adventures: The Veil of Shytar (part 14)

Neat SFX coming up…

Bubbles remained transfixed for several minutes before shaking herself and suggesting they return to the cockpit…

“Okay, Bubbles,” Barclay said with a gentle chuckle, “which one do we aim for?”

“I have one in mind.” Bubbles replied. “It’s a well-charted star; but not one often visited. Ever since I heard the tale of Adam Binsmell and Lilac Earthdamsel, and the mystical kingdom of Ka-Ki-Pu, I’ve always wanted to visit it. I’ve fed the co-ordinates into the astrogation computer; would you care to light the blue touch paper?”

“Do you mean the big button marked ‘Real Fast’?” Barclay asked, just in case he’d misunderstood his supervisor.

“I do.”

“Oh good.”

A heartbeat later…

…the Prowler had leapt to supra-light speed. However, a short while later, the spectacle seemed to dim for those watching. The novelty had worn off…

“This is a bit boring.” Bubbles finally confessed.

“Shall we access other departments of the ship?” Barclay suggested.

“What, you mean poke our noses into places and see what’s what?” Bubbles inquired.

“That’s’ exactly what I mean.” Barclay replied.

The ship’s builders had followed the blueprints of the alien life-boat in only the  vaguest manner. Much of it made no sense to them, so they adapted spaces inside the hull to the use of terrestrial earplugs. This meant that a coffee machine could not fail to be included in the design. Naturally the ship’s occupants could not fail to discover it…

“Oh by the Saint of All Earplugs,” Bubbles exclaimed, “this Iron Lungo tastes as terrible as the real thing in the Café Puke!”

“Wonderful,” Barclay replied – eager to try the machine for himself, “but don’t drink it too quickly: we haven’t found the toilet yet.”   

By coincidence, their next port of call was the Prowler’s equivalent of a lavatory. However this time they were to be disappointed…

“Honestly,” Bubbles complained, “you’d expect the designers to think up something better than peeing in a bag, then ejecting it into space through an airlock!”

“Lucky we’ve got the pilot chair toilets then, isn’t it?” Barclay reminded her. “Though it’s going to feel very odd – sitting at the controls with no cacks on. Do you think there might be a modesty blanket somewhere aboard?”

Chapter 7

Many hours were to pass before Bubbles and Barclay found it necessary to return to the cockpit and resume their positions. Barclay may not have been the most gifted navigator that ever traversed the invisible highways of interstellar space; but his training had been sufficiently thorough to enable him to understand read-outs and make a considered reaction to the information received…

“We’re coming up on a course change point.” He informed his pilot.

“Oh goodie,” Bubbles replied. “I’ve been waiting to do this. Initiating course realignment manoeuvre.”

Moments later this happened…

…and Bubbles felt sorry that no one was around to watch the spectacle. Then, once she was satisfied that the nearby blue giant star lay dead ahead, she hit the accelerator… 

However the Prowler was only five minutes into its new flight plan, when something in the starboard side window caught Barclay’s attention…

“Oi-oi, Bubs,” he said, “check out the view. That might warrant an investigation.”

When Bubbles saw the brilliant display to the vessel’s right, all thoughts of the blue giant were dismissed as irrelevant. “Flipping heck, Barclay,” she gushed, “this is far too interesting to miss. Turning to starboard: make sure your seat-loo is in the closed position.”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

Like the Cafe Puke machine shot? I enjoyed doing that one. And the course change manoeuvre. The side-on shot in the cockpit was a bit tricky. I hadn’t planned one. Then I spotted the interior of a paella spice tin – and there I saw a side window for Bubbles and Barclay to look out of. And to think – I almost didn’t buy those spices: I considered the price somewhat extravagant.

Earplug Adventures: The Veil of Shytar (part 11)

Good news: the ‘other stuff’ I’ve been doing is complete. I’m physically knackered, and my bank account has taken a pummeling, but the result is more than satisfactory. My lovely Fantic now has a winter abode. But enough of that: on to more important matters – such as the next episode of The Veil of Shytar! What a terrible title, by the way. I chose it because it sounded dramatic and incredibly naff. In fact I gave it that title before the actual Veil of Shytar existed. I had to quickly think of something. Naturally success blossomed, thanks in no small part to a multi-coloured anti-insect  curtain that I put up at my back door during the warmer months. Strange, isn’t it, how inspiration comes. I’d like to think it was genius.

Again, two days were to pass before Bubbles and her navigator were invited back to the hangar. This time they were surprised to be confronted by the only surviving artefact from the fabled star ship – Ship Number Fifteen…

They now found themselves sitting in the actual scout ship, flown by Atcherly Speakin and Quentin Hearthrob that shot down a hyperspace pirate attack craft on its first patrol.

“I don’t recall the previous pilots wearing silly hats.” Barclay noted.

“Those aren’t silly hats.” A slightly mischievous Pansy replied. “They are safety helmets: aerodynamically designed to cut through the air with the greatest of ease, whilst protecting their wearers from insect impacts and other assorted nasties. You must wear them: Health and Safety insist.”

This time around Barclay stayed his eagerness. “The ship is yours.” He said to Bubbles.

However, on this occasion, both pilot and navigator would require lessons on a flight simulator…

 “Flipping heck, Bubbles,” Barclay complained. “I can’t even fly a simulator.”

“That’s okay,” she replied, “You’ve got me. You’ve always got me.”

Finally, following hours of intense concentration and uninterrupted practise, Bubbles and Barclay donned their silly hats / safety helmets; climbed aboard the dusty old flying machine; closed the canopy; and kick-started the reluctant engine into smoky life…

“Whoa,” Bubbles cried out as the engineers stood nearby and watched nervously, “I think we need to blow the cobwebs out of this thing.”

“Try flooring the throttle.” Barclay suggested.

Bubbles didn’t hesitate. Within seconds of the pedal having met the plush carpeting in the foot well, the fuel system cleared and an incandescent eruption…urr…erupted from the drive units…

“That’s got it.” Bubbles said as her eyes narrowed to take in the information offered by the dials and read-outs before her. “Thanks Barclay: I’m glad you’re along; I couldn’t do this without you.”

Barclay didn’t quite know how to respond to Bubbles’ gentle words. “Um, yeah,” He managed. “You wanna take it up?”

“Yes, thank you, I think I will.” Bubbles responded. “Hold tight Barclay: I’m going for a vertical climb out.”

Barclay had just enough time to check his seatbelt, before this happened…

“Oooh,” the short Punting-Modesty engineer said appreciatively, “panache aplenty.”

“Otherwise known as showing off.” Pansy replied. “But very impressive, I must admit.”

Further comments on Bubbles’ piloting skills were lost in the sonic boom caused by the scout ship roaring away across the rooftops of Lemon Stone…

Both Pilot and Navigator cried out with the obligatory, “Wheeee!”

Then it was out across the pea-farming region in the foothills – and the plain beyond…

…where pea farmers – returning home from their fields for a sandwich and a wee – waved good-naturedly.

Soon, though, Bubbles found this form of flying to be slightly dull. “It’s not much of a challenge, is it?” She said to Barclay when he queried her complaint.

“Um, you could try flying nearer the ground.” He said.

It was a good idea, but Bubbles rejected it. “We might flatten some crops as we whoosh by.” She explained. “Some of these pea farmers have subsistence levels of income. They run very close to the wind economically. I’d hate to reduce their chances farther by knocking down their pea canes.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Barclay replied. “That’s very thoughtful of you. I wish there was some way I could let those lucky subsistence pea farmers know how kind you are.”

Now it was the turn of Bubbles to be lost for a reply. So, to cover her awkwardness, she said:

“I know: let’s go shake a few boulders loose in the mountains!”

As a result of this idea, this event quickly followed…

“Ah, that’s much better.” She said as she completed her third barrel roll through a series of shallow canyons. “Much better.”

“Is it?” Barclay said as he fought to retain his breakfast. “I can’t say I’d noticed.”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

Earplug Adventures: The Veil of Shytar (part 10)

Although I have returned to doing ‘other stuff’, this episode was already complete. Enjoy it at your leisure – safe in the knowledge that episode 11 exists too and will appear shortly.

Chapter 5

A short while after the daring duo’s foiled escape attempt – that being hours, not days – a number of engineering staff gathered in one of the hangars to watch Pansy Pottager introduce the barely-willing recruits to the idea of driving a hover chariot…

“You’ve driven one before, I presume?” She said.

It was not a presumption based upon logic. For whatever reason the tall red earplug had not asked herself why two young university graduates in their first jobs would have ever needed to drive a hover chariot. The University of Ciudad de Droxford had no requirement for a Search and Rescue team. The worst that could happen there was if someone twisted their knee playing badminton.

Being male, Barclay admitted nothing. He simply said:

“Here, give me the keys: I’ll give it a go. I’m like my dad: I was born to drive.”

But when his first action was to swing the nose of the chariot around so that it impacted with the hangar wall…

…Pansy snatched back the keys and handed them to Bubbles. Fortunately for everyone concerned, Bubbles truly was like Barclay’s dad. She found she had a natural talent for it…

…which pleased Pansy immeasurably. “Wonderful,” she called above the whine of the lifting jets, “you’ve passed the first manual dexterity test. Now go for a ride. Get the feel of controlling a huge machine like this.”

So she did. With Barclay as her navigator, Bubbles drove the vehicle down the mountain and on to the dusty plain…

“Just make sure you don’t mow down Don Quibonki,” Barclay said over Bubbles’ shoulder. “He lives around here, somewhere. I’m still hoping to get my deposit back on his Stone Tower B&B.”

In fact Bubbles enjoyed driving the chariot so much, they both took it out again the following night…

“I’m going to take this as an omen.” Barclay said as Bubbles drove through a steep-sided canyon. “If you’re as good a pilot as you are a chariot driver – well I think we needn’t worry too much about the vessel they’re making in the secret facility: you can ace any machine they throw at you.”

This was a vote of confidence for Bubbles. She’d had a similar thought; but to hear someone else voice it made her feel warm inside. “Thank you, Barclay.” she replied, “now I can’t wait to see what’s on offer next.”

Two days later she found out…

“It’s a Sky Scooter.” Pansy informed the duo. “You’ve probably seen video footage of one in action on Mars and Ice Station Nobby.”

Of course they hadn’t. “Sky Scooter.” Barclay said as he scrutinised the vehicle casually. “The name implies flight?”

“Indeed,” Pansy replied with a smile, “care to give it a go?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” The male earplug replied as he and Bubbles leapt aboard.

Moments later everyone  wished he deferred to Bubbles. The machine lurched around – threatening to fell the watching engineers like ten pins.

“I have the scooter, Barclay.” Bubbles said calmly as she grasped the duplicate controls.

Having done so, she eased them back and increased the thrust – virtually standing the scooter on its tail…

“I say, bravo.” The engineers called out in unison.

Moments later the sky scooter was headed for the hangar roof…

“Okay,” Barclay said, as the roof slid open at their approach, “why am I not surprised? I’ll point the way: you fly us there. But no aerobatics.”

Soon, having found a pair of silly hats in the panniers and placing them upon their heads, the scooter was putt-putting its way past the monastery…

Then Bubbles had the idea of livening up the monk’s evening…

…by ‘buzzing’ the unfortunate pink earplugs at zero feet.

“Eat my smoke.” Barclay called out to them.

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

Earplug Adventures: The Veil of Shytar (part 9)

Today I broke off from doing other ‘stuff’ because the rain became too torrential to continue. So guess what – I clambered into the attic studio and shot some more scenes. The Veil of Shytar is back on-track! Here’s something I prepared earlier…

So after passing through a pedestrian door from the laboratory into another place entirely…

…Bubbles and Barclay were presented with a representation of the fruits of their industrial espionage.

“Whadda ya think?” Pansy demanded.

Bubbles wasn’t sure how to respond. “Err, very dark and foreboding.” She managed.

“Great.” Pansy snarled. “And you, Mister Scrimmage?”

Barclay also struggled. “Before I can really form an opinion,” he replied, “I’d like to see the real thing  first.”

“Good answer.” Pansy said as her half-smile fell. “I think that can be arranged. In fact it’s an absolute certainty.”

As they turned to depart the ‘hangar’, Barclay felt certain that he and Bubbles were about to receive information that neither of them had expected or particularly wanted to hear…

Giving both a sidelong glance, Pansy dropped a bomb in their collective lap:

“The ship needs two pilots.” She said clearly and concisely. “Miss Gloor: Mister Scrimmage: You are to be those pilots.”

Neither earplug had seen any point in arguing with this revelation. As good Punting-Modesty employees they responded with good grace. In retrospect it had been inevitable. If the ship proved too dangerous, who better to die fighting the controls than the two people who had brought the plans to the company? It was all perfectly logical. So, while the construction of the full-size vessel got underway, its two pilots spent their time sitting around on solariums in the Lemon Stone sunshine, chatting, drinking coffee, and enjoying impromptu farting contests…

Moreover, because it would take time to create the prototype of a re-imagined (and altogether more defensively useful) alien life-boat, the cheerful two-some were despatched to faraway places – like these old ruins on what remained of Mutant Island – to enjoy themselves and learn a few things about surviving in a hostile environment without the support of civilisation…

As their transport lifted off and swept away into an azure sky, Bubbled squealed, “This is just sooo exciting!”

“Yeah,” an unusually up-beat Barclay replied. “And if you wet your knickers with excitement, no one will care.”

“That’s right.” Bubbles replied, “I can wash them in the pounding surf and leave them to dry in the sun on that old stone wall behind us.”

They also learnt the strange art of mountaineering…

…though the exertion did turn Bubbles’ face an unsightly red. And Barclay maintained a respectable distance to avoid seeing up his supervisor’s skirt. 

So, whilst life in the Museum of Future Technology’s many Café Puke outlets carried on as usual…

…and a huge UFO made a threatening appearance from the dark side of the Moon…

…that was shot down by Valentine Earplug, in his Punting-Modesty XL5 Facepuncher, which then crashed, deafeningly in a lake near the coast of southern Greenland…

…and drew huge crowds of fisher-folk to watch the three hapless alien invaders shiver in the icy waters – winter arrived in the mountaintop citadel…

…so Bubbles and Barclay soon learned survival techniques that might save their lives, should they crash land upon an icebound world…

“Right about now,” Barclay groaned as he followed Bubbles’ leaden footsteps through the snow, “the idea of becoming a Barista is gaining traction – unlike my snow shoes.”

However worse was to come. Having recovered from their mountain trek, the former BINS operatives were subjected to hypno-scary stuff that was intended to find if they ‘had the right stuff’. Or, to put it another way: to ascertain whether they were psychologically and physically capable of controlling their vessel during periods of high stress and violent trauma…

Barclay couldn’t speak, so he tried to send a telepathic message to his supervisor and co-victim:

“Bubbles, have you still got that application form for Café Puke?”

Of course Bubbles sensed nothing from her partner, so she failed to respond. But she didn’t argue with him when, during a brief lull in the wintery weather, he suggested they try to escape by climbing over the chain link fence that surrounded the Punting- Modesty facility…

Unfortunately the fence was entirely illusory. When Barclay attempted to climb it, the image faded – to be replaced by an impregnable force field.

“Oh well,” he said philosophically, “we would probably have fallen to our deaths anyway.”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

 

 

Earplug Adventures: The Veil of Shytar (part 8)

And so to Part 8. This appears at a time when its creator has been very busy doing lots of ‘stuff’ that takes up an inordinate amount of his time. Production of The Veil of Shytar has dwindled quite alarmingly. Actually it’s stopped completely. Fortunately he had the wisdom and forsight to get a few episodes completed previously; so no one need poop their pants with trepidation that the tale will stagger to a halt. Enjoy…

What remained of the night was short. It wasn’t long before the artificial sun rose upon the arboretum once more…

“If that computer tells anyone about our data theft,” Barclay said with self-satisfaction, “they’ll never think of looking for the culprits here.”

“That’s right.” Bubbles replied. “I mean, who would be stupid enough to spend the night in the arboretum?”

“Yes,” Barclay said slowly, “it was bloody cold, wasn’t it? I had no idea that the artificial sun actually behaves like the real one. My bum nearly froze itself solid to that rock.”

“I was okay.” Bubbles replied. “I had my frilly knickers to keep me warm. It was the noises of all the wild animals that caused me the most concern.”

“Wild animals?” Barclay responded to this. “That wasn’t wild animals: that was my guts. I told you my tummy rumbles when I’m hungry. Oh how I curse that Café Puke manager for closing before we could purchase a cheese sandwich or two!”

“Well there’s no time like the present.” Bubbles said as she allowed her eyes to roam the huge arboretum at the museum’s centre. “We’d better get going – if only to find some breakfast.”

Quite a lot of time later…

…the exhausted data thieves dragged themselves up the final slope that led from the arboretum on to the Wide Blue Yonder and thence to the Woven Expanse.

“Not far to go now.” Bubbles said around a desiccated tongue and cracked lips. “Only about a million miles.”

Chapter 4

It was almost a week later that the barely-recovered duo found themselves approaching the Star Chamber for only the second time in their short lives…

“No need to show them your knickers, Bubbles,” Barclay spoke quietly, “this time we’ve got the upper hand. We have what they want. We’re home and dry.”

And, indeed this appeared to be the case. Although the Chamber Pots continued to act with a superior attitude, whilst remaining beneath intimidating ultra-violet lighting…

…the ambience of the place seemed subtly different. For a start Sir Loftus referred to them, not as Gloor and Scrimmage, but as Bubbles and Barclay.

After greeting them (almost warmly); then hearing their tale, he said:

“Jolly good: give me the bloody SD card then: the sooner it’s out of your knickers and in my back pocket, the happier I’ll be.”

A short while later, following the dismissal of Bubbles and Barclay, the Chamber Pots stood quietly and regarded a stale Café Puke croissant that Bubbles had pulled from her knickers and deposited in the centre of the Star Chamber…

“Smart girl, that Bubbles Gloor,” Sir Loftus said through a wide smile that perfectly matched his gleeful eyes, “who would have thought of finding something so important and virtually priceless inside a mouldy croissant down the back of an egg-heads drawers?”

“Not me.” Dick Jason replied. “And no bandit that I can think of either.”

“So our worries are over?” Jasmine Greentea inquired.

“Damned right.” Biggun Browne replied. “The bank manager wouldn’t dare call in our loan now. The Punting-Modesty Munitions Company is on the rise again!”

Seconds later the Star Chamber emptied…

…it’s former occupants were already half-way to the laboratory in which they planned to transcribe the data on the stolen SD card and begin work on reverse engineering the resultant blueprints.

Meanwhile, far away in the Museum of Future Technology, Mary-Sue Wassack was in the act of cleaning up after a busy day in the Café Puke…

The dull lighting and the sight of a half-empty glass of Croaky Cortado brought forth the memory of her ill-judged assistance of Bubbles and Barclay.

“Oh dear,” she said to an empty café, “I wonder if I should have told someone about those out-of-towners.” She sighed, before adding, “Whatever, the museum’s still here and the world hasn’t blown up – so I suppose it’s all turned out for the best.”

Several weeks were allowed to pass before Bubbles and Barclay received a summons to attend the Punting-Modesty Research and Development Department…

Naturally Bubbles said, “Oh, wow, look at this Barclay. Look at all this tech. Which bit do you think we gave them?”

Barclay couldn’t even hazard a guess. “Yeah,” He said – rather stupidly, or so thought the disgruntled scientist who was using the nearby lab toilet.

A moment later, their laboratory guide, Pansy Pottager, introduced herself then displayed the Punting-Modesty equivalent of the alien life-boat’s power source…

“We haven’t ironed out all the wrinkles yet,” Pansy informed them, “but it sure glows a nice red.”

Then she took them to see the pilot’s seats, where the seat designer – Pete Thorpe – explained that the alien life-boat hadn’t come fitted with pilot positions, so he had needed to create them from scratch…

“Nice shade of blue.” Bubbles responded. “A bit like my hair.”

“Would you like to try them on for size?” Pete invited.

“Why?” Barclay inquired.

“Oh, no particular reason.” Pete replied. “It’s just that – aah – no one’s ever sat in them before. I’d like to see if they’re nice and comfy.”

With nothing better to do, the two BINS operatives complied with the request…

“Yes, very nice.” Bubbles congratulated the seat’s designer. “All the controls fall easily to hand. The seat is soft but supportive.”

“How long do you think you could stay in that seat, would you guess?” Pansy wanted to know.

Bubbles required clarification. “What, without getting up for a wee, you mean?”

“You wouldn’t need to get out for a wee.” Pete said proudly. “The seat has a built-in lavatory. Of course the pilot wouldn’t be able to wear any pants; but I don’t suppose that really matters.”

“How long?” Pansy pressed. “An hour? Two? A day? To Mars and back?”

Barclay was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Not with the seat, but with the direction Pansy’s questions were leading. Just to shut her up, he said:

“The last one. They are very nice indeed. And who needs underpants anyway – they only need washing!”

This seemed to satisfy Pansy, so she led them to a pair of white objects that seemed vaguely familiar…

“These are atomic cannons.” She informed her guests. “Have you ever fired atomic cannons?”

Bubbles and Barclay confessed that neither of them had ever fired atomic cannons.

“Not a problem.” Pansy responded. “It’s as easy as riding a bicycle.”

Then, with an abrupt change of subject and demeanour…

…she said:

“Hey, would you like to see a one-tenth scale mock-up of our version of the alien life-boat?”

Bubbles considered this. It would seem remiss of them not to take a look at the machine that had saved their professional lives. “I’d love to.” She said.

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

Now if I was charging a fee for these episodes, part 8 would be very good value for money. Wasn’t it long! I wonder if size really does matter – resulting in this episode  hooking some new readers. That would be nice.  Hello new readers; was that enjoyable?

 

Earplug Adventures: The Veil of Shytar (part 4)

Two days without going near a motorcycle or shopping gives a creative genius a whole bunch of time to work upon his magnum opus. Hour upon hour – either in the shed looking for bits and pieces; in the attic studio shooting pictures of the aforementioned bits and pieces; sat at  computer manipulating the resulting photographs; and on a laptop adding greats words of mirth, means that 150 shots are in the can, and four chapters complete. So, without further ado, let’s get funky…

Come morning, Bubbles and Barclay were up with the lark and quickly traversing the distance that separated the city from the museum. Having caught the first train in, they now stood at one of the museum’s many entrances. Well Bubbles was; Barclay had raced in pell-mell and now stood inside and awaited his supervisor…

“Hey, look,” he called, “we’ve arrived before the Robot Ticket Collector has come on duty. We can get in for free.”

But, as early as they were, neither Barclay nor Bubbles were the first earplugs to enter the museum that day. Already Mary-Sue, Jungle-Jake, and their small mauve colleague – Moyst Towlet – were serving the first customers of the day in the Café Puke…

“Sorry,” Moyst addressed the bug-eyed apparition across the counter, “the Crappachino machine aint working today. We got an engineer coming in from town later. It’s off. How about you try defecated?”

Meanwhile, in another part of the vast emporium, Bubbles and Barclay now strode along one of the main thoroughfares. Although they had visited the museum once before, time (and the consumption of many glasses of rhubarb wine) had blurred Barclay’s recollection of both the event and the geography of the building… 

“I’m so confused.” He complained. “There’s just so much going on. It will take a while for me to acclimate to this environment.”

But, naturally, Bubbles wasn’t really listening: she was too busy enjoying re-living her youth. “I know,” she said in an abrupt change of subject, “let’s visit the Woven Expanse. We don’t have to walk far on it: just stand there and take in the ambiance.”

So they did…

And, like the two pink earplugs that joined them at the expanse’s edge, Barclay wondered what was so wonderful about looking across a vast, flat plain – at another vast flat plain named the Wide Blue Yonder.

“This sucks.” He groaned. “Let’s try somewhere else.”

So they did. They visited the Age of Stone exhibit…

…and watched as two drunken visitors fell into the moat. Then it was on to the Nul-Space Power Generator…

…which didn’t enthrall Bubbles much.

“I may be your supervisor in a technological manufacturing company,” she said very sternly to Barclay, “but I’m a girl. I like ‘girly’ things. Big machines just don’t float my boat. Can you dig it?”

So they tried a new exhibit named Star City, which was based upon a multi-species city that had been (or would be) built upon an asteroid in the neutral zone between galactic empires in the future…

A USB plug stood guard at the entrance. But it didn’t really enjoy the task: it hated confrontation.

However, and despite the interesting artifacts inside the Star City, both earplugs wished to move on quickly: they had a task to perform after all. So they stopped to ask a Robot Security Guard – or RoboSecGua as they were better known – for directions to the nearest cafeteria. Naturally the servo-mechanism took umbrage at their wasting of its cyber-time, and told them, very gruffly indeed, to find themselves a Robot Guide…

“All you have to do,” it growled through its huge olfactory array, “is whistle.”

So, once they’d departed the vicinity and found themselves a dark quiet area in which to giggle at the RoboSecGua’s reaction to their question, they did just as it had suggested. Moments later…

“Hiya, my name is X2 Zero.” The Robot Guide announced cheerfully as it rounded the corner. “If you so wish I will be your guide for the day. If you only need me for a few minutes…well that’s fine too. Everything is fine and dandy in the Museum of Future Technology. Where were you thinking of visiting next? Would you care for a list? Do you require a lavatory really fast? I know a short cut from here. Have you experienced an accident in your pants? I know a good laundry – and it’s just two minutes away.”

“Shut up.” Barclay snapped. “We want a coffee.”

“Café Puke is the official provider of coffee in the Museum of Future Technology.” X2 Zero responded. “But should you prefer a clandestine tipple, I can take you to several unofficial suppliers, none of which are more than twenty minutes away by foot.”

“Too much information.” Barclay yelled.

“Take us to the nearest Café Puke.” Bubbles said more gently.

If the robot guide could have grinned widely, it might have reached around to the back of its head. “Sho’nuf, pretty lady.” It replied. “Let’s get down!”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

Ah, it would appear that the robot guide and I share the same speech patterns.

 

Earplug Adventures: The Veil of Shytar (part 3)

The pace of production has quickened. It’s a now a case of ‘full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes’. Welcome to Part Three…

Before returning to her apartment, Bubbles left her colleague to lock up BINS; then took herself to the austere apartment of the Three Wise Earplugs of Lemon Stone…

She told them of her quest and asked for advice.

“You wanna loan?” One of them inquired. “We give good rates. Nothing exorbitant, you understand.”

“No-no, I just want to know…well I want to know if you think it’s possible.” Bubbles replied. “And maybe give me a few tips.”

Another Wise Earplug nodded at this. “Wear clean knickers.” She advised. “Make them frilly: you never know when you’re going to need to flash them.”

The third Wise Earplug eyed Bubbles. “You’re not the first Punting-Modesty employee to head for the Museum of Future Technology. Have you ever heard of Buttox Barkingwell?”

Of course Bubbles knew the tale of Buttox Barkingwell’s adventures since leaving Lemon Stone – and how she had discovered a Time Shard version of the museum, buried in the mountainside. “Yeah; what about it?”

“Well, you know,” the ancient, yet strangely timeless Wise Earplug replied, “good stuff can happen. You might get lucky.”

“That’s right.” The first Wise Earplug responded to this. “She’s married to that nice Frank Tonsils now. They’ve got a pea farm, I hear. You could do worse, Bubbles. And there’s always the Café Puke: they’re constantly looking for Baristas.”

“With frilly knickers.” The second added.

But Bubbles wasn’t listening. Actually she wasn’t there at all. Instead she was collecting Barclay…

“Come on Barclay- no time to waste going home to bed.” She said chirpily. “We’ve got a mission to complete. I don’t know where it’s going to take us; but if I do half as well as Buttox Barkingwell, I’ll be a happy girl.”

Chapter 2

The early morning light was just beginning to illuminate the snowy flanks of the mountain upon which Lemon Stone stood proudly…

But of Bubbles Gloor and Barclay Scrimmage there was no sign within the citadel. That was because they had travelled through the night, and as  the light of a new day finally arrived upon the dusty plain, they could been seen approaching the vaguely legendary Transfer Conduit Station Seven…

…where both earplugs were more than a little disconcerted by the negative attitude of a local soothsayer.

“Watch it,” he shouted above the murmur of waiting earplugs, “nothing good can come from travelling all over the place at relativistic speeds. You’ll only get your brains scrambled and your colon disconcerted. And any plans you have to better your lives – put them aside: they’re a load of rubbish: you’re all doomed.”

Bubbles continued to feel unsettled as they made their way to the ticket office…

This quickly turned to nausea when the ticket clerk informed Barclay of the vast price for a direct transfer to the Museum of Future Technology.

“It would probably be cheaper to hitch a ride on a pea wagon to La Ciudad de Droxford; then ride a mag-lift train into the museum.” The clerk added helpfully. “It wouldn’t be very quick; but it would mean you could afford one night in a Ciudad de Droxford high-rise hotel. That’s not to be missed, so they tell me.”

Three days later witnessed the cheerful couple amble across a dangerous walkway that would carry them into the closest conurbation to their ultimate destination – La Ciudad de Droxford…

“Oh, this is more like it.” Barclay said with satisfaction. “I got sick to death of riding that pea wagon. I think I still have the odd pea shuck trapped between my buttocks.

“Yes,” Bubbles agreed, “my pink panties are now irreversibly stained pea green. I can’t wait to have a shower in one of those high-rise hotels.”

In time the walkway carried them into the centre of the city, where Barclay stood open-mouthed at the view, and Bubbles asked three prospective competitors in a hat-wearing competition for directions to the hospitality area…

Whilst Mister Stovepipe-Hat, K’Plank the Space Wanderer, and former running back, Dan Down ‘n’ Out kindly pointed the way, the conversation was being observed from an apartment window several storeys above the participants…

“Oh look, Jake,” Mary-Sue Wassack said to her flatmate, Jungle-Jake Johnson, “more out-of-towners. What’s the bet they end up making their way to the Museum of Future Technology?”

“Pretty high, I’d guess.” Jungle-Jake replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the bog.”

So it was a solitary Mary-Sue who tore herself away from the view…

…whilst wondering who the ‘new folks’ were, and conjectured upon the likelihood of them utilizing the Café Puke outlet at which she and Jungle-Jake worked.

“Evens, I’d say.” She said to an empty room – before adding, “I wonder if we’ll ever earn enough to furnish this room: it looks a little Spartan. A carpet would be nice too.”

Shortly after Mary-Sue’s and Jungle-Jake’s departure to their place of work, Bubbles led Barclay into the foyer of one of the cities fabled high-rise hotels…

Whilst Barclay was instantly stunned by the minimalist décor, Bubbles fell in love with the view of the cityscape as seen through a huge picture window.

“Gosh,” she said, “I feel so parochial. It’s hard to believe that we both studied at the University of La Ciudad de Droxford. I think we’ve been living on that damned mountain top for too long.”

But Barclay wasn’t really listening: he was lip reading the earplug that had just exited the communal lavatory. “Flipping heck,” he exclaimed, “they’ve got moist toilet tissue!”

A few hours later – having settled into their room – both would-be spies sat themselves down to study a travelogue of their intended destination…

“Oh look,” Bubbles squealed, “it’s the residential area. Just regard that wondrous architecture and careless abandonment of regimented structure. If this plan of ours doesn’t pan out, we could always get ourselves a job as Baristas. In fact one of the Wise Earplugs of Lemon Stone strongly intimated we should.”

“Hmmm,” Barclay replied, “I suppose – as a last resort…”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

P.S Did anyone notice the shot that featured my fabled tea dust art? Tea dust art: excellent for creating mountaintop monasteries.

Earplug Adventures: The Veil of Shytar (part 2)

Well I’ve cobbled together enough photos (and thought up a few words) for the next instalment: try to enjoy…

Two minutes later Bubbles and Barclay were crossing the courtyard that led to the Punting-Modesty Munitions Company offices…

Whilst Barclay appeared grim and certain of his fate, Bubbles remained hopeful that they weren’t about to receive their severance papers:

“Whatta we gonna do, Barclay?” She wailed. “What can we say to convince them to keep us on? Shall I show them my knickers or something? They’re very frilly. Do you think that would help?”

She was still trembling when they entered the sales office corridor. In fact she was feeling slightly nauseous…

As they passed posters that depicted the company’s most famous product…

…Bubbles paused to regard them.

“Just think,” she said gravely, “this could be the very last time we ever walk these hallowed corridors and gaze upon our forbear’s work of genius.”

“The XL5 is a pile of junk,” Barclay said with a dismissive grunt. “The only time it was used in anger was in the battle against those sentinel robots from the future: and it was totally rubbish. Couldn’t hit a sodding thing. The Earplug Brothers had to visit Mars in order to find a weapon that worked against their cybernetic foe.”

He then suggested that they “get this thing over and done with.” So, thirty seconds later one of the board members became aware of their approach towards the Star Chamber…

But by the time that the junior employees had stepped into view, he, or she, had resumed his, or her, position beneath the ultra-violet lighting, in which he, or she, thought that he, or she, looked most intimidating…

“Ooh-err,” Barclay managed after swallowing several times, “I’m feeling slightly intimidated, Bubbles: do you think you could do all the talking?”

Bubbles might have replied in either the positive or the negative, but Barclay never found out which. This was because the Chairman of the Board –  Sir Loftus Pupe – indicated that they both proceed into the room, which of course they did…

Under the artificial lighting it was difficult for the young earplugs to discern the true colouring of the Star Chamber personnel. Consequently it was impossible to read their expressions…

But both thought they recognised Sir Loftus sufficiently well to look in his direction. Unfortunately they were both wrong, which slightly amused the board members…

Looking up from a small square of paper, upon which someone had scribbled the names of Bubbles and Barclay, Sir Loftus turned his attention upon them and quickly slipped the note into a pocket, lest they think he lived in an ivory tower and didn’t know his own staff by either sight or name. His yellow eyes glowing in the blue air, Sir Loftus then addressed his ‘guests’…

“Oi, you two; look this way. I’m the boss – Sir Loftus Pupe. Here, here, you buffoons. I’m over here. Whose stupid idea was it to have ultra-violet lighting? I’m all but bloody invisible!”

To fellow Star Chamber members, Sopier Clandestino and Leon Solent, the situation appeared to be turning into a comedy sketch. But others, such as Dick Jason and Gilly Charlick, felt less comfortable: they had seen Sir Loftus in a rage previously in their careers: they didn’t care to witness the spectacle again…

Fortunately fellow Star Chamber members – known locally as Chamber Pots – Jasmine Greentea and Biggun Browne defused the situation by smiling slightly and putting Bubbles and Barclay at ease. Well Jasmine did: Biggun merely looked stern, but fair…

“If you can’t see Sir Loftus, darlings,” Jasmine said gently, “just look for a pair of disembodied yellow eyes.”

Grateful for this advice, both youngsters did as they were bid.

“Jolly good.” Sir Loftus said as Bubbles and Barclay finally located his position in the darkened room. “Now to business.”

Well, for the next five minutes the Chairman of the Board proceeded to list all of his junior employee’s inadequacies. He lambasted them for their incompetence and lack of scientific imagination. He let them know, in no uncertain terms that they were useless and of no value to Punting-Modesty. He informed them that he fully intended to release them from their contracts and personally kick them out of the building.

“Yeah,” he snarled, “I’m gonna boot you right up the arse!”

But just as Bubbles’ and Barclay’s knees thought they could knock no louder, and their dental fillings began loosening, a partial reprieve was presented by Biggun Browne:

“Ya get one more chance.” He said bluntly and with no hint of kindness. “One final shot at staying aboard. If you can conjure up one idea between you, right here and now, the Star Chamber are willing to listen. We are not without mercy for those who can think on their feet.”

Both youngsters grabbed this life-line like a plugmutt that has fallen from a cross-channel ferry clutches at rubber rings, discarded deck hatches, old mattresses and other marine flotsam. Desperation and hope gave wings to their minds. After a quick consultation Bubbles replied:

“Despite our best efforts,” she said with surprising forthrightness, “we can’t think of any weapon or vehicle that might interest the Museum of Future Technology. But maybe we can steal someone else’s idea. It’s a thought that Barclay and I had once, quite a while ago, in a Café Puke outlet during a visit to the museum.”

Noting that Bubbles had piqued the Chamber Pot’s interest, Barclay joined in. Together they explained their tentative plan to re-visit the museum and steal technology therein; return it to Punting-Modesty, where it could be reverse-engineered, reconfigured, and made useful as a device with defensive capabilities.

“Bit of a long-shot, don’t you think?” Sir Loftus said to this, whilst his eyes scanned the room in search of either doubt or confirmation of his own thoughts in the eyes of the other Chamber Pots.

Jasmine Greentea avoided her Chairman’s eyes. “I think it’s a lovely idea, darlings.” She said. “You get my vote.”

“Since when has the Punting-Modesty Munitions Company been a democracy?” Biggun Browne retorted.

“I’m just saying.” Jasmine replied slightly defensively.

“Well it’s the best idea I’ve heard lately.” Sopier Clandestino offered his help.

“What have we got to lose?” Gilly Charlick added.

Dick Jason threw in his two-penny worth:

“Nothing.” He roared, “Let’s give the kids a chance!”

“If we don’t have some business plan to offer the company’s bank manager,” Leon Solent spoke gravely, “he’s gonna pull the rug from right under us. We’ll all be out on our arse!”

Sir Loftus made a characteristically fast decision. “On your way.” He instructed his underlings. “But there’s nothing in petty cash: you’ll have to pay your way there. Now sod off to the Museum of Future Technology sharpish: bring us something back we can use. Be gone!”

So it was a surprised and, quite frankly, invigorated couple of young earplugs who made for the Star Chamber exit…

“Can you believe this?” Barclay whispered to his supervisor.

“Yes.” Bubbles replied. “And I’m not overly enamoured with the prospect. I have only fifteen Pluggentos in the bank, and three-fifty in my purse: if we’re going to pay our way to the Museum of Future Technology, you are going to have to cough up the dough.”

“Oh-no,” Barclay wailed at the news – rather more loudly than he’d planned – “I was saving up for a nice pea-shucking holiday on the dusty plain below Lemon Stone. I’d even booked a room at Don Quibonki’s stone tower Bed and Breakfast. Oh, I’m so disappointed!”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

That was a good episode – if you like the colour blue.

 

Earplug Adventures: The Veil of Shytar (part 1)

To be honest, I don’t have nearly enough pictures to properly start the latest tale of silicon life and rubbery silliness; but I figured that if I put Episode One out there for everyone to enjoy, it might promote some urgency within this ancient skull to facilitate the production of further shots for the story. That’s the theory anyway. So, here we go: the story of Bubbles Gloor and Barclay Scrimmage…

Earplug Adventures: The Veil of Shytar

Tooty Nolan

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

Chapter 1

In their decidedly finite wisdom and for as long as anyone could recall the curators of the Museum of Future Technology…

…had entrusted the great edifice’s defence against attack and invasion to the Punting-Modesty Munitions Company, based in the distant mountain top citadel of Lemon Stone…

It seemed that whatever type or design of weapon or vehicle the museum required, the egg-heads at Punting-Modesty could dream one up at the drop of a hat. To this end, the board of directors had established a facility, to which they gave the moniker, BINS – an acronym for Bright Ideas (and) Neat Suggestions…

BINS had proven successful. Devices created therein had protected the museum from external threat countless times. Well, three or four anyway. But, sadly, through the years much of the talent that worked there had filtered away into other roles or left the profession entirely. Now only two employees remained…

They were – from left to right – Barclay Scrimmage and his nominal supervisor, Bubbles Gloor – neither of whom had enjoyed a fresh idea since leaving university to join the munitions company. On this particular evening both were reacting to a demand from the board for a new vehicle with which they might tempt the curators of the museum to augment their fleet of ageing and battered Facepuncher XL5s – as seen here piloted by Valentine Earplug and taking heavy fire…

As a result they were working, unpaid, after hours.

“Anything?” the yellow-faced Bubbles Gloor inquired, more in desperation than hope.

Barclay Scrimmage came out of his trance in time to reply:

“If I can’t come up with anything during the regular eight-hour day, I don’t see how another fifty minutes is really going to help. It’s late; my stomach is grumbling. You know I can’t think when I’m hungry: the noises interrupt my brain functions.”

Bubbles sighed. After cogitating for several seconds, she responded with:

“Sorry, Barclay, but if that’s the case, I’m afraid that desperate measures are called for. We are going to have to put our thinking caps on.”

With that she pressed a button on the arm of her yellow supervisor’s chair.

Moments later, their intern assistant, Foo-Foo Baton entered carrying two large pieces of equipment, which he laid upon the floor before them…

Neither Bubbles nor Barclay were impressed by what they saw.

“Mister Baton,” Bubbles spoke sharply, “what the flipping heck are those? I asked for thinking caps; not head restraints. We’ll do ourselves a mischief wearing those!”

“Sorry,” Foo-Foo replied with a tremor in his youthful voice, “but these are the only ones that still work: all the modern, light-weight models were found to be harmful to their users. They caused paranoia and gastric wind. Whenever their users broke wind they thought everyone had heard them – even the silent and deadly farts. Eventually they were so frightened of blowing off that they took themselves away to caves in a nearby cliff where they hoped no one would secrete hidden microphones. We had to throw them all into the gorge.”

“The users: or the thinking caps?” Barclay inquired.

Fortunately this stupid question was ignored, and before long the two graduates had donned their respective thinking caps; seated themselves upon their chairs; and allowed Foo-Foo to dim the lighting…

Whilst Bubbles screwed up her eyes with effort, Barclay allowed his to defocus, his lids to sag, and prayed for divine intervention. This, he suspected was their last chance to prove themselves worthy of employment by the Punting-Modesty Munitions Company. By morning both he and Bubbles would probably be out of work. But as much as Bubbles laboured, and Barclay unceasingly sought inspiration from beyond the ken of earplugdom, they both came up empty…

“What a bloody waste of time.” Barclay grumbled as he stepped down from his chair. “Have these things actually got batteries in? They’re useless.”

Bubbles remained silent: she was too busy mentally writing out job applications for the Café Puke.

“Oh dear,” Foo-Foo lamented as he reached to take the thinking caps from the earplug’s heads, “this could spell doom for Punting- Modesty. With no new models to sell to the Museum of Future Technology, our line of credit will be refused and we’ll be bankrupt within a week!” 

Barclay was about to respond to this assertion, when he was interrupted by the entrance into the BINS office of a hitherto unknown runner…

“You two,” the runner snapped as he looked directly and unswervingly at the thinking-capped duo, “are wanted in the Star Chamber. Get up there pronto. No arsing about. Make it snappy. Vamos!”

For a moment a shudder of dread ran the length of both graduate’s spine. “The – the – the Star Chamber?” They squealed in perfect unison. “We have to go to the Star Chamber – like now?”

The runner sneered at them. “I think that’s what I said.” He replied.

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

Well there it is: did you like? Does it show promise? Now I guess I’d better sort out enough pictures (and text, of course) for the next installment of THE VEIL OF SHYTAR! Stay tuned.

 

The Reason…

…why progress on the next Earplug Adventure has stalled.

I must admit that (after getting off to a flying start on the follow-up to Climatic Calamity) recent work on the next, still-unnamed photo-story has been conspicuous by it’s near absence. Okay, a few shots of a hastily constructed set – the Star Chamber – sit quiescent upon my computer awaiting processing…

…but most of my time has been spent studying video after video – in many different languages – that all centre upon a single subject. I don’t mind admitting it, but I have become fixated. Everything else has taken a back seat. Then, on Monday  the 17th of October I drove from Portsmouth to Shoreham-by-Sea, where I visited a delightful waterfront motorcycle dealer, by the name of Spark Motorcycles, and conducted a test ride of their demonstration vehicle. Today, a week and a day later, they kindly delivered  a similar model in the back of a van. And here it is…

 

My first spanking, brand new, motorcycle since my Yamaha RD400 in 1979! Er, what is it, you ask? It’s a Fantic Caballero 500 Scrambler, that’s what it is. A cult machine in it’s homeland of Italy.  Now visit You Tube and punch in that name. You’ll see why I JUST HAD TO HAVE IT. There’s nothing else like it.

Climatic Calamity – in it’s entirety – COMPLETELY FREE!

You may have missed the odd episode of Climatic Calamity along the way; but that doesn’t matter anymore because the free PDF version has arrived for you to either download and read at your leisure (and perhaps share with your friends), or to read in situ right here. Try to comprehend the magnitude of this wondrous offer: it is almost unequaled in the history of literature and photography – exceptions being all the other Earplug Adventures. Imagine, all those photos: all those words: all that creative genius – absolutely FREE! Just click on the book cover image, and it’s all yours – to hug to your breast and covet like a…urr…covetable thing!

Earlier Earplug Adventure books are also available too. Visit the All Earplug Adventures in PDF Format Unexpurgated & FREE! page beneath the header, and click away to your heart’s content. There has to be one there you’ll enjoy.

Flipping heck – forty-six e-books in little over eight years: I’m a veritable mass production machine. And the quality just keeps on getting higher!

P.S I know there’s no such word as covetable – but you know what I mean. Covetable: something worth coveting.

Making the Earplug Adventures: Inspired by Toothpaste

When I bought a particularly expensive  tube of toothpaste, some while back, it was done – not for the quality of the contents – but for the inspirational shape of the tube. I could see, in an instant, as it resided silently upon the supermarket shelf, a new vessel for my collection of futuristic Earplug Adventure props. The result – once I’d added some miscellaneous vacuum cleaner parts that I found in the garden shed: painted with correction fluid; then reversed the negative, to make it appear dark – was the life-boat from Climatic Calamity…

Well, after that tale was complete, I didn’t really want to put the model aside: it had too much potential. So I stuck my thinking cap on my bonce and got a bit creative. In what form would the next Earplug Adventure manifest itself, I asked.  Who would the central characters be? Well there was a throw-away name mentioned in Climatic Calamity that was too good to miss. Ardent reader, Jayne noticed it. Bubbles Gloor. But who might Bubbles be? What was her reason to visit the Museum of Future Technology? Then it came to me: to steal the specs of the vessel that belonged to the strange triangular alien, Peggy. And why might Bubbles require those specs? Because she is an industrial spy who works for the Punting-Modesty Munitions Company of Lemon Stone – oft mentioned in the stories, and builders of military vehicles such as Valentine Earplug’s XL5 Facepuncher…

So I set to work adding a few more plastic bits from my parts bin; painting it vermilion and matt black; and making it look a whole bunch more ‘dangerous’…

…and The Prowler was born. I then created a couple of images that included it…

…like this flypast of Lemon Stone. And this shot of two prowlers in  high orbit above a brown planet…

But it wasn’t until I made this shot…

…that I had the idea for the next tale. Bubbles (and a so-far unnamed co-lead character) will fly the Prowler to a place that hasn’t been visited since Volume Two of Worstworld

That is a heck of a long time. It’ll be good to revisit the doomed planet. Will it still harbour life? Might the blue star that threatens it finally have done its evil work? Well we’ll see, won’t we? And it’s all thanks to a tube of toothpaste – the name of which eludes me. Funny how one thing leads to another.

Earplug Adventure Wallpaper: A Clandestine Midnight Coffee Perhaps?

Discovering a carelessly unlocked branch of the Cafe Puke, whilst out and about enjoying a night stroll through the residential area of the Museum of Future Technology, Edith and Ferdinand Arcwelder question their morals when tempted by the possibility of a freebie mug of ghastly coffee.

Yes, in answer to the more eagle-eyed amongst you, that isn’t the original Cafe Puke set. It’s another one entirely – complete with disco glitter ball!

Earplug Adventures © Paul Trevor Nolan

 

Climatic Calamity (part 24)

Rarely does pathos rear its head in the Earplug Adventures; but episode 24 gives it a go. Read on…

The Captain had raced to the auto-destruct compartment: the return journey took more than three times as long to complete…

“Guests,” the Captain used an all-encompassing term for the four beings that stood before it, “I have the sad duty to inform you that the Catering Assistant won’t be accompanying us on our journey back to Earth.”

Celestino’s talent meant that the robot need not have uttered another word through its cheap plastic forward speaker: he already knew the truth. But Erronious, Hellfire, and Peggy required further information.

“Yeah?” Erronious spoke into the brief silence that followed the Captain’s opening gambit, “why’s that then?”

“Because,” the mauve robot replied, “the Catering Assistant will replace the auto-destruct trigger. It will blow up the ship manually.”

Naturally the reluctant pea farmers complained bitterly. They said lots of rude words. One of them was ‘bum’. And another one was ‘carp’, or a word that looks very similar when written down. But it was to no avail, and soon the black robot departed upon its final mission.

After Celestino had urged Erronious and Hellfire to follow the Catering Assistant with the words: “I think it has something it would like to discuss with you before committing suicide,” the Captain and First Officer looked at each other.

“There goes a brave robot.” The Captain said quietly.

“Not sure I could do it Sir.” The First Officer replied. “Not in my specifications, I’m sorry to say. Will you be mentioning it in despatches, Sir?”

“Oh absolutely.” The Captain replied in an instant. “If one existed, I’d demand that the Catering Assistant – stroke Fifth Officer – received a medal posthumously. But, rightly or wrongly, that is not the robotic way.”

A short while later the two earplugs joined the Catering Assistant as it prepared to insert a widget into a thingamabob…

They didn’t try to dissuade the black robot: but they did suggest that it express its feelings. So it did:

“You know that belief that earplugs have about a life after physical oblivion?”

“Silicon Valley?” Hellfire suggested.

“That’s the one.” The Catering Assistant replied. “That belief has the dead crossing a vast bridge from this life into the next.”

“That’s right.” Erronious said. “It’s supposed to be very beautiful.”

“Well,” the robot continued as though Erronious had not spoken, “there is a faction of robot-kind that has a similar belief. They believe that a huge, lumpy, yellow bridge separates here from there…

…and that we see the ghosts of lost ships on the way across it. Further, once we have completed the passage, we are taken into the embrace of cyber-heaven.”

“Are you one of those who believe?” Hellfire asked gently – almost hopefully…

The Catering Assistant’s ocular devices shifted to the ceiling. “I’d like to imagine it’s true.” It said. “But I have no proof: nothing tangible: any empirical data.”

“Bah,” Erronious scoffed. “You don’t need them: you just need faith. If you can imagine it – that makes it possible. Anything that’s possible is certainly probable. If you – and others like you – can imagine the huge, lumpy, yellow bridge; the ghosts of lost ships; and cyber-heaven, it’s probably because it’s real. Just believe in it enough, and you can make it happen. Bon voyage, Fifth Officer of the Drunkard’s Vomit: may you watch her sweep silently by as you cross the bridge.”

As the two earplugs made their farewells, the bridge crew had lifted the Drunkard’s Vomit so that it hung above the brightly-lit towers of Vacuum City…

Then, pushing the forward thrusters to the max, the submarine space freighter blasted free from the planetoid’s feeble gravitonic attraction…

Thereafter, having gained sufficient distance from the planetoid, the life-boat, containing the crew and passengers of the Drunkard’s Vomit, departed the main hold at high speed…

Then, as the submarine space freighter slid back towards the planetoid, the Catering Assistant hit the destruct button…

Green lights indicated that the device had activated. The ship was only seconds away from total destruction. But then something completely unexpected happened…

“Ugh?” the Catering Assistant managed before dissolution, “I feel myself being disassembled and taken…where…?”

However any potential thoughts were circumvented when the ship’s hull exploded spectacularly in several directions…

This exposed the engine core to cosmic radiation, to which it was sub-atomically allergic. The result was the Wonky Supreme Being suddenly becoming aware that the gig was up – permanently…

…and shouting, “Arrrrrse!”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

What just happened? Surely it can’t be true? Flipping heck! Return for the next episode, and find out…uh…what happened next.

Climatic Calamity (part 23)

If you’re reading this tale for the first time…where the heck have you been? Do you realize how much you’ve missed? Now go back to the beginning – there’s only 22 episodes before this one: you know you’ll like it. For those readers who are up-to-date – read on…

Meanwhile, a heck of a long way away, the Captain and three of its robotic bridge officers watched as Celestino Candalabra led the unexpectedly triangular Peggy through Vacuum City towards the Drunkard’s Vomit

“Strange alien en route Sir.” The Second Officer informed its commanding officer unnecessarily.

“I can see that.” The mauve robot replied coldly. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I do possess functioning ocular apparatus.”

“No Brownie Points for the Second Officer Sir?” The Third Officer both inquired and suggested in one brief sentence.

“Indeed.” The Captain replied. “Open a hatch and let them in.”

Moments later Celestino had arrived with Peggy in tow. He noted absentmindedly the arrival of the Catering Assistant: gave a brief account of Vacuum City’s history; explained that the creators of the weather weapon that had struck Earth had always been smart enough to build a countermeasure before releasing the weapon to any potential buyers; and presented the Captain with the contents of his back pocket…

Whilst the First, Second, and Third Officers re-ran a CCTV video of Erronious and Hellfire in their silly hats, the Captain scanned the five black objects.

“I don’t understand.” It said. “My sensors detect biological material. They appear to be nothing more than simple seeds.

“They are the Seeds of Change,” Peggy informed the robot whilst it’s single eye studied the antics of the two former criminals. “They reverse the situation into which they are introduced. An analogy might be…um…perhaps…Well I can’t think of one right now; but, rest assured they will work.”

“A broad spectrum antibiotic.” Celestino said cheerfully. “That’s the analogy Peggy sought. Only much more complicated, talented, and complex.”

“So what do we do with them?” The suddenly attentive Second Officer inquired.

“We fly them back to Earth.” Celestino explained. “Then, after we’ve entered the atmosphere, we fly over the original contamination point and seed the sky above it with these. Apparently they burst on contact with oxygen, and send their spores everywhere. These, in turn, act upon the original contaminant and reverse its DNA – making it reverse its effect upon the environment. It’s all very clever. If they hadn’t buggered off across the Galaxy yonks ago, I’d tip my metaphorical hat to the creators of this.”

“There we have a problem.” The Captain said gravely. “We can’t fly home in this ship: it’s been rigged to self-destruct. It’s the only way that we can guarantee that we destroy the planet’s worst-ever enemy – the Wonky False Supreme Being.”

In an instant Celestino was struck dumb with distraught emotions as he ‘saw’ the truth in the robot’s complete lack of expression. Peggy, on the other hand, didn’t give a toss:

“Hey,” it said, “no problem: we can use my ship. Strictly speaking it’s a life-boat. My creators left it for me, just in case I needed to escape Vacuum City. Well fancy that: I do. It’s pretty big. Too big for one. Wanna see it?”

Thirty seconds later a squad of robots departed their vessel…

But they were already fifteen seconds behind their Captain and its guests…

“Strange architecture,” the robot opined as it quickly scrutinised the life-boat’s ‘bridge’. It then added: “Nothing a lick of colourant wouldn’t put right anyway.”

Moments later the squad of robots arrived…

…along with Hellfire, Erronious, the Catering Assistant, and Shortarse.

“Looks bigger on the inside than it does on the outside.” Hellfire observed. “Of course it’s an optical illusion; but it’s very good. Does it come in a variety of shades? This one reminds me of a drunken weekend I once had in a seafront boarding house. The wallpaper was this colour, and so were the contents of my stomach.”

Chapter 9

Naturally plans were quickly hatched to transfer to the life boat everything of importance in the Drunkard’s Vomit. But as a crew member double-checked the auto-destruct mechanism, an alarm sounded and the ship went to magenta alert…

It wasted no more than a nanosecond before informing the bridge…

As the crew member made its report over the intercom, both the Captain and the First Officer were forced to tear their gaze from the main screen, which displayed the image of their preferred medium beyond the city walls, and think quickly.

“The auto-destruct has a glitch.” The Captain repeated the unfortunate news to his immediate subordinate. “What’s the protocol for such a failure?”

The First Officer searched its memory banks. “There isn’t one Sir. It’s never happened before. The system is fool-proof.”

“Curses,” the Captain…ah…cursed. “It must be that meddling Wonky Supreme Being. He’s obviously put a non-existential spanner in the works. What are we going to do? How do we blow up the ship?”

All the while that the superior officers threw ideas about, the Catering Assistant made its way to the auto-destruct cabinet…

“Oh yes,” it said to itself, “this will never work. A key component has ceased to exist: there is no trigger mechanism. Arse!”

Thereafter it contacted the Captain. Shortly the same Captain joined it at the auto-destruct cabinet…

“Were my auditory receivers playing silly-buggers with my brain?” the Captain cyber-blurted. “Do you really have the solution to our conundrum? And is it really as desperately personal as you suggested via the intercom?”

Calmly the Catering Assistant replied, “It is Sir – I’m sorry to say: but needs must, and all that. But first, I wonder if I might visit the bridge before I carry out my duty, Sir?”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

What’s this? Could cyber-heroics be the order of the day? Return for episode 24 to find out!

P.S Did anyone recognize the auto-destruct compartment? It’s one of the Gravity Whelk sets turned on its side. I never build a new set, if an old set will do. They did it on Star Trek: The Next Generation: why shouldn’t I?

 

Climatic Calamity (part 22)

PADDING ALERT! PADDING ALERT!

The following episode comprises photos and story line that fails to move the tale forward one iota. Nevertheless its very charming and includes lots of characters and places that you would not have seen had the story remained aboard the Drunkard’s Vomit. So its well worth the visit. In fact you would be committing an injustice against yourself, should  you pass on it. Read on…

Meanwhile, far away in the tortured land that contained the Museum of Future Technology…

…the immigrant workforce of blue Ice-Worlders were being put to use doing…ah…stuff outside, where terrestrial earplugs would quickly succumb to the vicious cold…

Had Magnuss known about their efforts he would have congratulated himself for his foresight, many years previous, when he rescued them from their planet as the crust de-stabilised and broke up. He might not have been quite so comfortable if he’d known that they had also been assigned the task of operating the Earplug-Powered Generator…

“Honestly,” the pillion earplug said to the other, “it’s not enough that we have to contend with the worst coffee in the Galaxy; but now they’ve locked us in this freezing generator room and expect us to pedal like loonies from the planet Gagh!”

“Keep talking.” The other replied. “It’ll take my mind off the motion sickness. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m feeling a little queasy.”

Despite being inside the main building, whiteout conditions now applied in the Age of Stone exhibit…

Even the blessed and wonderful Angel with a Huge Nose was compelled to find shelter from the storm…

As she unfurled her angel’s wings in preparation for wrapping them around her torso to keep warm, her mind wandered to the main courtyard. She wondered if the Mariachi Bands were still trying to hold their outdoor convention there…

Of course she had no idea that Magnuss and Hair-Trigger had ushered them into an old blockhouse. The Heroes of the Museum now stood at the entrance as they kept an eye open for stragglers…

“No, I think that’s about it, Hairy.” Magnuss said with a sense of professional satisfaction. “Let’s take the underground maintenance tunnel back into the building proper.”

Gobby – bless him – the strange creature with a limited control of the passage of time, stood in the snow outside his apartment block and tried to turn the tide of time…

As was usual for him, he managed fifteen minutes; but then gave up.

“Not worth the sodding effort.” He grumbled to himself – before going inside to wrap himself in his favourite Aquaplug duvet.

Chester and Miles were on the balcony of the apartment they shared…

The shattered debris of their neighbour’s façade lay all about.

Chester was feeling sorry for himself. Several small palm tree seedlings had been horribly crushed by great lengths of cabling. Miles might have said something comforting to his twin, but he didn’t because he thought he was behaving like a ‘cissy’.

Shortly after that they both received a telepathic message from their brothers. Quickly they joined them at the entrance of an emergency shelter…

…as they followed Hair-Trigger into the assumed safety of an atom-proof bunker.

Elsewhere, members of the Sewage Workers Union rushed to get themselves through the closing bulkhead doors on the main thoroughfare…

They had heard that their hardened concrete meeting room had been reassigned to Civil Protection, and they didn’t want anyone taking their seats…

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

P.S The wording that accompanied the third-from-last photo made mention of an atom-proof bunker. I invented the term as a fourteen year-old. I’ve used it repeatedly during the intervening five decades – and no one has ever asked me the obvious question:

“What the heck is an atom-proof bunker?”

Climatic Calamity (part 20)

With the horror of the author’s backside on display out of the way, let’s get on with episode 20…

Meanwhile, Celestino was having no such problems, despite following very closely to the red triangle’s rear…

…as they traversed a pleasant mauve corridor.

“Nice shade of purple.” Celestino remarked.

“Mauve.” The red triangle corrected him. “Purple is darker. It’s a common mistake to make. I must have done it six or seven times during my development.”

Celestino absorbed this. He then had a thought…

…”Say, I don’t know how to address you: do you have a name?”

“That would be a negative.” The tall red device replied as they progressed along the corridor like dissimilar twins.

“Would you like a name?” Celestino inquired. “I can make one up, you know. I’m very good at that.”

The response was instantaneous. Eagerly the red triangle said:

“How good – on a scale of one to ten?”

“Ten.” Celestino replied adamantly. “On a good day – eleven!”

“Go on then.” The machine urged. “Make me up a name. Make it memorable though.”

“Would you like one name – like…say…Burper?” Celestino inquired further. “Or would you prefer two – like I have, but obviously not Celestino Candalabra; that would only cause confusion.”

The red triangle was used to thinking on its metaphorical feet: “Give me an example of both: I’ll choose the best.”

“Okay,” Celestino said as he engaged the creative region of his silicon brain, “how about…Bubbles Gloor or Carson Spewk?”

The red triangle would have nodded in thought, but it possessed neither a head nor a neck. “Try a couple of single names.” It said.

Celestino was happy to. He chose Peggy and Losterum. Then, as a sudden after thought, he added, Bumwipe.

The soon-to-be recipient of a moniker said, “I think I’ll go with Peggy. With sufficient time, I think you could probably create a better name; but I’m satisfied with my choice. I assume I can change it later if I so desire?”

“Yeah, of course.” Celestino replied as they moved from the mauve corridor into a green one…

It was at that moment that the earplug spotted an object of great desire.

“That…that…that isn’t a toilet, by any chance, is it?” He asked excitedly.

“It certainly is, Peggy replied. “Want to use it? Jump in: I’ll keep watch.”

Moments later…

“When you said you’d keep watch,” Celestino said timidly, “I didn’t realise you meant to watch me. Could you avert your gaze for a moment?”

Peggy obliged by peering at an imperfection in the ceiling.

“I’ve never noticed that before.” It said.

Then it was time to use the alien flush. When he did so, Celestino was in for a surprise…

“Ooh,” he said, it’s emptied into a large room below. There seems to be some strange trees growing in it.”

“Ah,” Peggy responded,” that would be our destination. But there’s no need to clamber through the effluent hatch: I know a much cleaner route.”

Two minutes later…

…Celestino found himself looking up at some trees that he considered very odd indeed.

“I consider these trees to look very odd indeed.” He informed his guide. “Why are we here?”

“The antidote.” Peggy replied.

Celestino considered the possibility that the alien device was joking. “I have to cut down a tree and drag it back to Earth?” He asked.

“No, you silly silicon sausage,” Peggy answered. “You collect the Seeds of Change from the seed pods. Right up you go – upon my equivalent of shoulders.”

Teetering on the brink of a nasty fall, Celestino released his grip upon Peggy and began feeling the seed pods.

“You’ll only need a handful.” Peggy informed him. “Choose only the most voluminous pods.”

So the earplug did…

…and, as success reared its beautiful visage, he began to smile.

“I’ve got five.” He called down. “Is that enough?”

“More than enough.” Peggy replied. “I wasn’t designed for this sort of activity: I’m experiencing structural failure.”

With that, they both fell to the floor…

…which left Peggy dazed, and Celestino bruised, but smiling.

“Yes.” He cheered quietly to himself.

Then, when Peggy had revived, they departed as conquerors…

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

Did you see any of that coming? I’d like to think that was an original idea. But there’s…what, six billions…of us? Someone must have thought of that at least once before. But did they combine the idea with earplugs?  Probably not. Does it matter? In the grand scheme of things, not one jot.

P.S Using that reverse angle shot through the lavatory waste: inspired…or disgusting? You vote.

Climatic Calamity (part 19)

In part 19 we discover who the culprit is. If you’re a long-term Earplugger, you’ll have probably guessed already. Well here’s confirmation of your conjecture…

Whilst Celestino’s quest was meeting with definite success, Erronious and Hellfire’s less so. A loud clearing of a vast throat caused them to look up from the corridor along which they were being led. Erronious wasn’t enthralled by what he saw. Hellfire was simply horrified…

“It’s…it’s…” He stammered.

“No it’s not.” Erronious said more calmly. “It just looks like him.”

“Huh,” the Wonky Fake Supreme Being looked down his considerable nose at the tiny, puny, almost insignificant earplugs below him, “how do you know I’m not the Supreme Being? I look exactly like him. I’m really powerful and frightfully handsome. You can’t possibly be that certain!”

Whilst Hellfire tried to bring his recalcitrant bowel under control, Erronious blew a loud ‘raspberry’…

“Because,” he said whilst trying to conjure up some more saliva for a second burst, “the proper Supreme Being wears glasses. And he has a meatier bum too.”

Wonky SB tittered at Erronious’ temerity…

“My,” he said, “I wonder if he knows his rear end is held in such esteem. When, eventually I defeat him, I’ll keep that little known fact to myself. Now step up here, little people, I’d like a word.”

With that he reached down and plucked the daring duo from the ground…

Having done so in one of the most uncomfortable manners possible, he said:

“I don’t know you two. Don’t tell me your names: I don’t want to know. I was rather betting that it would be the Earplug Brothers who wound up here in the hind end of space with me. Instead I get you two. I’m not overly pleased with this situation, because…”

At that point the Wonky Fake Supreme Being went ape…

“I bloody hate the Earplug Brothers!” He roared. “And that sodding green thing that one of the twins is involved with. And as regards to Magnuss’ wife…”

“Hair-Trigger.” Hellfire said helpfully.

“Is that her name?” Wonky calmed slightly to absorb this information. “Hair-Trigger? What a bloody silly name. I hate it. But I only hate it half as much as I hate Magnuss. I want him here. I want to see him suffer. You two…you two are just wasting my time. I can’t even be bothered with you. Sod off back to doing whatever you think you’re doing. What are you doing, anyway? Don’t answer that: I don’t want to know.”

All the while he had been waving Erronious and Hellfire above the tall towers of Vacuum City…

…which scared the heck out of them. But if that wasn’t sufficient to ruin their day, he then hung them between his outstretched fingers…

Naturally they had failed to hear a word he’d said following Hellfire’s two spoken words. So when he finally lowered them back to the ground…

…they weren’t entirely compos mentis…

And the Wonky SB had shoved some very silly hats on their heads too, which didn’t help the situation at all – though it did amuse the pseudo-God. But worse was to come. Silly hats were the least of the brave earplug’s worries. Their sensibilities were to be tested to the utmost. The Wonky Supreme Being dropped his pants and showed them his inferior arse!

“Oh, by the Saint of All Earplugs!” Hellfire wailed in horror. But he couldn’t think of anything meaningful to add.

Erronious merely breathed through his mouth and prayed that the insensitive monster didn’t break wind.

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

There, I bet you saw that one coming! And if you didn’t – well what a pleasant surprise.

P.S Had to be careful with the arse shot. The first two attempts showed rather more than this blog allows.

P.P.S It’s somewhat disturbing to note how the Wonky SB appears to have aged so much since their first encounter!

Climatic Calamity (part 17)

If you pay close attention, you will find that in part 17 the padding mentioned in part 16 kinda dribbles out, and the story itself begins to move forward again. This is a good thing. Read on…

It was about at that time, but far away, outside the monastery in the mountain top citadel of Lemon Stone…

…when the recently appointed Father Superior – formerly known as Cyril Bucket – wandered out into the snow and had an excellent idea. Well he thought it was an excellent idea. Often, as he had gone about his previous business (as a grass verge mower) in Lemon Stone, he had paused to watch the atomic missile tests upon the plain below. He never forgot the image. So, using both his telephone and his ecumenical ‘clout’, he persuaded the missile technicians in their snowed-in facility that it would be a good idea to ‘nuke’ the storm. Frightened that they might lose their jobs, they agreed to try a few missiles on the ice-age, and duly launched them…

But it was all to no avail. They hadn’t worked well in perfect conditions: in the freezing cold and high winds, they simply fell from the sky like so many damp, but very expensive, squibs. But it wasn’t a complete loss: the resulting explosions were bright enough to guide some lost souls to safety…

…and give the technicians something to do – like clearing up the resulting mess and pulling duds out of the snow…

Shortly after that conditions worsened even further, so that even the armoured personnel carriers had to be brought inside…

…and parked on the main thoroughfares.

Chapter 7

Meanwhile, far across the gulfs of space, Erronious and Hellfire had successfully proceeded from the Drunkard’s Vomit; through an air lock; and thence into the habitable portion of Vacuum City…

Any concerns over the direction in which they should go were circumvented by signage that appeared before them as they approached…

Some of it could have been worded more respectfully – or so opined Hellfire…

Erronious agreed. “How rude!” He said in disgust.

As per his plan, Celestino maintained a respectful distance. Well actually he didn’t: he took an entirely different route…

In doing so he discovered a very important…ah…discovery

Despite being a recluse, the ‘See-er’ was well versed in things technological. It took him about three nanoseconds to recognise the vast yellow device as a library. However several complete seconds elapsed before he figured how to work it. In doing so he realised that it was a school teaching-machine, intended for children, the poorly educated, and dumbos.

“Oh dear,” he said silently to himself, “does that mean I’m a dumbo? Well I do live alone in a cave, so I suppose I must be. But whatever; let’s see what this thing has up its non-existential sleeve.”

What the machine had was…

…a user guide for another device that was kept elsewhere. Initially Celestino felt tempted to move on, but something stayed his feet. Might this lead him to the very secret he sought? It seemed too easy; but he wouldn’t allow that thought to become uppermost in his mental processes. Sometimes, he recalled, the best things in life are the simplest ones. Maybe it was also true of quests for antidotes to ice-ages. He stopped cogitating and pressed the ‘Play’ button.

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

Now I think you’ll agree, as padding goes, that padding was well worth including. It was very silly. It was actually inspired by a rumour I once heard that when Donald Trump was in the White House, he suggested protecting New Orleans (or somewhere in that hurricane-stricken area) by ‘nuking’ the approaching hurricane. Whether this was true, I don’t know: but I thought I’d add my version to this story anyway.

Climatic Calamity (part 16)

I know you’ve been champing at the bit for the next episode (or is that ‘Chomping on your bits’?), so here it is…

Farther back, Celestino turned from the screen and whispered to Erronious and Hellfire:

“It’s lying. I can sense it. There is no one by the name of Corbin Commijerk. It just made that up on the spur of the moment. In fact I doubt that is a real creature at all. Or a robot, for that matter. No, I suspect it’s an animation designed to comfort us in the hope that we will lower our guard.”

“But what choice do we have?” Erronious whispered back. “We need that antidote to climate change: everywhere else is just…” He floundered – unable to think of a descriptive term.

“Sub-atomic unstableness?” Hellfire suggested.

“Yes,” Erronious nodded gratefully, “sub-atomic unstableness. There’s nothing else out there. This must be the place that made the weather weapon. Corbin might be unreal; but this planetoid is the only tangible object for millions of miles around – even if Corbin is an animation.” 

Unbeknownst to the trio of earplugs, the Captain had been listening to their conversation via his anally-analogous microphone. As a close-up of the brightly lit Vacuum City appeared on-screen, the mauve robot turned and said… 

…“Your concerns are duly noted, gentlemen. We will proceed with utmost care. We must take nothing for granted. Question everything we see and hear.”

“And smell.” The First Officer added.

“Yes, and smell too.” The Captain agreed. “Gas smells, so we should prepare ourselves for that. But, as you say, Mister Bosche we are here upon a mission: and we must risk everything to accomplish it. The ship is about to enter the city. Be ready for anything.”

With a deft touch that only an automaton can really display, the Drunkard’s Vomit settled upon the deck – or floor – of (what everyone assumed was) a hangar…

An audio message then welcomed anyone who wished to leave the ship – inviting them to join Corbin in his office for a nice cup of tea and a slice of lemon drizzle cake. Naturally the robots, bereft of a stomach or taste buds, declined. This left the three earplugs to step into the strangely metallic-tasting air of Vacuum City…

“You go ahead.” Celestino said quietly. “I’ll hang back and keep an eye out for…um…things. Hopefully my talent will warn me against any dangers. And, you never know, it might also tell me if I stumble over the ice-age antidote in the process.”

It was a less-than-perfect plan; but in the absence of another, Erronious and Hellfire decided to go with it. “Yeah, okay.” Erronious said doubtfully. “Wish us luck.”

Meanwhile, uncountable millions of miles distant, upon Earth, or, to be more precise, the Museum of Future Technology…

…the widespread use of armoured personnel carriers assisted the museum staff, as they searched the environs for lost inhabitants and customers; then return them to the dubious safety of the vast edifice. These were supplemented by mountain rescue teams – each of which had one member with special goggles for seeing through whiteouts…

“I wish I had a pair of whiteout goggles.” The red mountain rescue earplug said to the green earplug. “All I can see is the back of your head.”

“What about my bum?” The green earplug inquired.

 “What about your bum?”

“Can you see it?”

The red earplug snorted his contempt. “No, of course I can’t.” He snapped. “You’re wearing your fluffy mountain rescue regulation thermal pants.”

“Oh good,” the green earplug responded, “My arse is so cold that, for a moment I thought I might have forgotten to put them on.”

In the relative warmth of the museum, Crudlove Twang and Spodney Gridlock – of the volunteer group known as the Yabu Youth – watched a TV wall screen that showed the proceeding rescue efforts…

Spodney was in the middle of a suggestion that they join it, when a blue earplug fell on her arse outside on the balcony.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Crudlove replied as she eyed a small Café Puke poster beside the window. “It’s cold enough for me in here.”

Naturally Magnuss and Hair-Trigger had been amongst the first to volunteer. They, in particular, had gone to the beleaguered Ciudad de Droxford…

“Oh look, Magnuss,” Hair-Trigger squealed, “someone has managed to erect a sign that reads ‘help`. Let’s pray we’re not too late.”

However, as they proceeded into a snow cave…

…Magnuss discovered that it led to a huge sink hole that, in order to escape it, he was forced to use his emergency jet pack…

“Well it just goes to show,” Hair-Trigger said as they returned to the museum with other volunteers – including the black-helmeted Fascist convention attendees…

… “that even in these terrible times, there are earplugs who haven’t lost their sense of humour.”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2022

Strictly speaking the majority of this episode is ‘padding’. It doesn’t really move the story on; but it does allow me to remind readers of other characters that have appeared before – and thereby give the story arc some continuity. It also allows me to use pictures that I have slaved over – or just plain like – in a story – instead of having them languish, unseen, upon my computer. Did you enjoy them? If so, then it was worth their inclusion. If you didn’t…well yaboo sucks: this is my story, and I’ll use whatever bloody pictures I want!

 

All You Need For An Earplug Adventure…

…are…

…a computer, a camera, a note pad, a pen (obviously – what good is a note pad without a pen?), and (in my case) some glasses and a cup of cafe cortado. Oh yeah, and…

…sets, props, and lights. Not forgetting…

…locations and a photographer. And last, but certainly not least…

…a whole bunch of earplugs!

P.S Did you recognise the location I was shooting in that charming photo of my tanned self with a bamboo plant? It was…

…the scene from Surprise Visit in which the three Cafe Puke Baristas go in search of raw cane sugar for Nigel the Golden One of Scroton. If you spotted that, present yourself an Earpluggers Merit Award for Paying Close Attention. It looks something liked this…