Earplug Adventures Wallpaper 63: Defensive Capability

Not very earpluggy, I know; but there are earplugs inside that mighty space craft. Honest!

Their names are Richter and Beaufort Skail…

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Remember the Earplugs!

I say that because it’s been an awfully long time since I completed the last tale; and a new one seems quite a ways off yet. Due to circumstances beyond my control, photography on the aforementioned ceased shortly after commencing, yonks ago. But yesterday the hint of a re-invigouration (if there’s such a word) occurred. I took a few minutes out of my busy day to create this…

Yes, it’s another flying machine; and what’s more, two new characters will pilot it in the next story. Their names are Richter and Beaufort Skail – and they will be central to the story. Can’t say too much about the plot, except to hint powerfully that found-footage and global cataclysm go hand-in-glove. Can’t wait to start snapping the pictures…eventually.

Tooty.

Apple Product Users Rejoice…

…because the two volumes of The Time Tamperer are available at the iTunes iBookstore via Lulu.com right now! So now you can emulate my spouse and download them for your iPad and other Apple® stuff straight away. Imagine how envious friends and colleagues will be when they see these covers shining brightly from your LED screen…

And how knicker-wettingly excited they’ll become when they look over your shoulder and see wondrous sights such as these…

Not to mention all of my witty prose.

Hmmm, think I’d better get myself an iPhone: I’d hate to miss out on the fun!

The Time Tamperer (part 57)

Epilogue

It was the following day when Cushions Smethwyke finally used the Omnipresent Scanner to contact Magnuss and Hair-Trigger.

“Sorry,” she said through her huge set of gnashers, “but I’m afraid that with the Nevertron off-line, we can’t get time-travel to work at all. It’s as if the Nevertron had always existed and thereby allowed passage between eras. That Piggies DuPong must have been one heck of an evil genius: he planned everything. He just didn’t allow for an out-of-work actor; a disgruntled chef; and a plugmutt turd. Well, anyway, so until some advanced tech from the future arrives, you’re stuck there. You two; the Twits; and our paying customers!”

Magnuss would have responded with some up-beat and utterly meaningless platitude, but before he could do more than lick his lips in preparation, the link with the future failed…

“Oh bum wipe.” Hair-Trigger responded to the darkened screen. “Without a com-link to the Museum of Future Technology, we can’t figure out a way back.”

Once again Magnuss whetted his tongue. This time though he was interrupted by the jangling of a nearby public telephone. Naturally, in the faint hope that Cushions might be on the other end of the line, he answered it…

Both earplugs were thrilled to hear the voice of a chum they thought had been blown to smithereens.

“Yes, I’m still alive.” The excited space pilot’s voice screeched from the speaker grill. “I rode upon an anti-gravity belt – all the way across the sea, until I met a distant shore…

…where the power ran out and I landed in a nice-looking farming community…

Then a really nice farmer came rushing out of his house…

…and introduced himself to me as Farmer Thompson. Well we hit it off like we’d known each other for years. So, when he asked me in for a glass of gin and tonic and a slice of tortilla…

…I found I couldn’t resist. So, what I’m trying to say is; that last attack cured me of my need for daring exploits. There is no way I could ever top that. I’m ready to settle down to a domestic life now. So, what I’m really trying to say is: don’t come looking for me; I’m doing fine. In fact I’m getting married in the morning. It’s been great knowing you; and you’ll always be my favourite Saint and his girlfriend. Byee!”

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018

The Time Tamperer (part 55)

Of course an explosion of that magnitude, when deflected by massively powerful electro-magnetic defensive screens, is likely to take the top off any building, irrespective of its size, design and…um…futuristicness

As the blazing light faded and the dust settled, it became clear that two towers – both over a kilometre high – had been blown away and now smouldered pleasantly…

And it was through one of those enormous openings that Tanganika Chunks had been blown…

…to ride the currents of air upon the anti-gravity belt that she’d had sewn into the waistband of her space panties by an old crone who specialised in that sort of thing.

“Whoo-hoo.” She cried as she drifted off across the ocean. “This is fun: I wonder where I’ll land?”

Meanwhile, in a later era inside the Time Shard version of the Museum of Future Technology…

…three members of the disgraced mountain rescue squad watched the changing light upon the mountains, whilst the other two took a leak in the futuristic urinal.

“What do you think?” Carlos Minehunter asked of the team member beside him.

“Very nice.” Chaz Wassaloni replied. “I’ve always been a fan of modernistic lavatories.”

“No, Stupid.” Carlos snapped. “The view of the mountains: Doesn’t it make you want to get out there and climb them and, possibly, rescue someone?”

“No.” Chaz answered. “There are no toilets in the mountains.”

Any further inspired and spirited conversation was suspended when the sound of approaching footsteps stalled their thought processes…

“Oh look.” Said Cowpat Carlson…

…”it’s the lovely Buttox Barkingwell and her handsome monks, Zak and Bolah: I don’t know which one I like best.”

“Good news.” Buttox said without preamble. “The proper Museum of Future Technology has terminated your contracts. You’re out of work. I live in the mountains in my stranded museum; how would you like to work for me? I’m certain there’s money to be earned saving people from an icy death: some of it could come your way. And you get free board and lodgings. Sound wonderful or anything?”

“I think I speak for the five of us.” Cowpat replied. “We think this museum has a future – no pun intended; we’d like to practice our talents here.”

“Yeah.” Chaz added. “You’ve got great toilets here too. Some of the pipes gurgle real musical, know what I mean?”

So it was a done deal…

…and Buttox departed with a smile upon her face. She’d gotten one over on the real museum: unlike her, Cushions Smethwyke and her cronies didn’t have any mountain rescue capability. Now her museum would appeal to thousands of mountaineers around the globe. As she walked away she could almost hear the cash registers ringing.

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018

 

The Time Tamperer (part 51)

Mincey then sent for her personal TV reporter – the brainwashed Rupert Piles…

Stepping on to the huge balcony…

…Mincey began a speech, which she intended everyone – those brainwashed in the museum; and those sent into exile across the Obsidian Plain – should see and hear. Although it’s quite possible that she wouldn’t have wanted Magnuss and Hair-Trigger in the loop, so-to-speak…

…but she didn’t have much choice.

“My dear, dear subjects.” She began.

Immediately alarm bells began ringing inside the heads of Magnuss and Hair-Trigger…

…as they were both familiar with megalomania. “Oh heck, Hairy.” Magnuss complained. “Why does the Museum of Future Technology always seem to bring out the worst in people? Walk these hallowed corridors for long enough; and before the day is out it’s time to plan for world domination.”

Of course, they weren’t the only viewers who remained compos mentis. The four T.W.I.T operatives, the zombie duo, and the catering triplets, had all gathered around a monitor…

…and were listening to Mincey as her voice grew shriller and shriller whilst she expounded the virtues of her absolute rule: “And nasty dry toilet tissue is outlawed from this moment onwards.” She continued. “Of course anyone who fancied a spot of dissent will be taken out on to the Wide Blue Yonder and have their underpants shoved down their throat. Just thought you ought to know. So, in summation, Piggies DuPong is toast. Remember that. From now on its Hail to Mincey. Okay? Good.”

By chance, the Omnipresent Scanner locked on to their receiver, which pleased Magnuss and Hair-Trigger, because other than Tanganika, they had – so far at least – appeared to be the only earplugs in a position to resist the former actor…

They smiled because now there were potential allies…

They watched as those potential allies turned away from the darkened monitor. Quickly Hair-Trigger spoke into a microphone. In the corridor, those hearing her voice…

…were surprised and sceptical. Especially when Hair-Trigger made the rash promise to whomever was listening that she and Magnuss would bring down ‘that trash-talking rat-bag, Mincey Muir’.

Pixie and Saxon went into an impromptu conference…

“What do you reckon?”  Saxon asked. “It could be a trick.”

“You’re asking me?” Pixie replied. “You who helped murder Piggies Du Pong!”

“I didn’t know it was poison.” Saxon complained. “I just thought he’d poop in his pants or something. But that’s by-the-by: do we respond, or not?”

“By the Saint of All Earplugs.” Magnuss’ disembodied voice boomed. “Switch on your monitor: let’s have a face-to-face.”

Moments later…

“There, that’s better.” Magnuss said as he and Hair-Trigger appeared on-screen. “We’re recent arrivals from the future; we’re not entirely au fait with current events; what information can any of you give us?

Further moments later, having heard every one of the earplug’s responses, Magnuss and Hair-Trigger began to wish they’d never asked the question…

The situation was worse than they’d thought: the Nevertron could destroy everything that had ever, or would ever, exist.

“Urk” Hair-Trigger gurgled.

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018