What Might Come – On the Earplug Front, That Is.

I must admit that (due to circumstances beyond my control) work upon the next Earplug Adventure has been sporadic; sometimes non-existent. For once I have the outline of a plot in place, but precious little else – particularly the most time-consuming element of an EA – namely the photographs. But whenever the opportunity presented itself, I have grabbed my camera; scooped up a silicon character or two; and snapped a few shots. Here is a montage of some of them…

So there you have it. All I need do now is shoot several hundred more photos; make the necessary alterations to them; sort them into a story board; write the text; and post them here. Then, finally, you’ll see the follow-up to this…

 

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Big Problem with Latest Earplug Adventures!

I was rather hoping that the Time Tamperer e-books would be published by now; but (if I understand the forums correctly) it appears that the publishers, Lulu.com, have huge problems with the software that converts Word documents into EPUB – the format required for e-readers. The glitch seems to have first appeared in October 2018; and despite their best efforts, continues to reject manuscripts in a random manner. I’ve gone through the manuscripts of Vol 1 and Vol 2 with a fine-toothed comb and can find no errors my end – but still the converter refuses to convert Vol 1 – showing an ‘unknown error’ each time I try. In the short term I plan to publish in PDF form, so that my adoring fans can still get their mitts on a readable copy for their laptop or whatever – even if it isn’t any good for e-readers. Hopefully Lulu can get their problems sorted and before long these lovely e-tomes will appear in all their glory…

The Time Tamperer (part 58)

So it was with broad smiles rapidly spreading across their faces that the heroes of the Museum of Future Technology walked away from the public telephone…

…thus allowing others to use it…

“Well where do we go from here, Maggy?” Hair-Trigger inquired. “Tanganika Chunks may be ready to anchor herself to domesticity and a pleasant husband; but I’m not. Not yet anyway. I want action.”

“Fret not, Hairy.” Magnuss replied through an almost fixed smile. “I feel the same way. And I’m not prepared to wait until some whizz-kid in the future comes up with an alternative to the Nevertron. I say…

…geniuses are born into every era…

It’s up to us to find one here and get him, her, or it, to fix up the Nevertron for us. I intend to see my brothers and the Museum of Future Technology again – before I’m old and grey!”

And in that future time the three spies from the Museum of Abrasive Materials had discovered the Inter-Galactic Communications exhibit, where they were able to speak with the vacuum-breathing blobs of Weird Space…

“Hello.” One of the Blobs said, when it finally noticed the spies presence. “You’re from out-of-town, I can tell. If you don’t mind me saying – you looked a little disconcerted. Stunned even. Yes, the Museum of Future Technology tends to do that. In fact I sometimes wonder why other museums even bother trying to compete with it. Well have a nice day – whatever that is. We don’t have days, or nights, in Weird Space. Or toilets either. Or itchy bums, when I come to think about it.”

At that the spies turned away…

“Where are you going, Caleb?” Brengun Rooney asked his colleague.

“Back to work.” Caleb Rotter replied. “Where I intend to hand in my notice. That bug-eyed monster is right: there’s no competing with the Museum of Future Technology: it’s the best museum that’s ever been.”

“Yeah.” A morose Wigo Rong replied. “Or will ever be.”

The End (for now)

Paul Trevor Nolan 2018

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

Coming Soon – to an E-Book Supplier Near You!

Once again the latest story is simply too big for one e-book. So, as a result, the multi-megabyte tale will be published in two volumes. And this is what they will probably look like – assuming that they get past the publishers standards, that is…

Utterly charming, I think you’ll agree. So watch out for more news on the subject.

P.S If you think either cover closely resembles a pile of excrement, please say so in the comment box: I’d hate to produce a shitty book.

The Time Tamperer (part 56)

Back in the recent past, with control wrenched from the feeble grip of Mincey Muir, Magnuss and Hair-Trigger proceeded to un-brainwash the populace – using the same means that Piggies DuPong had used to strip them of their sentience and individuality in the first place. They shoved them into the Android Regeneration Booth…

…which usually regenerated androids, but also (as a side-effect) made smart people dumb. They began with the biological androids – Montagu and Agnes Lovehandles – who, in turn took over the task…

…thus releasing Magnuss and Hair-Trigger to do other stuff.

It wasn’t a pleasant experience for the long-suffering earplugs…

…but the results were worth the misery. So much so that soon the visitors from the future joined a lengthening queue that almost stretched…

…around the corner. And, of course, as the remedy was administered to everyone, the T.W.I.T agents felt very satisfied with their day’s work…

…and led them away for a ghastly mug of coffee at Cafe Puke.

The catering staff watched them leave…

“Well, darn it, I guess that’s us out of a job.” Wilson complained.

Duncan stared ahead, as if in shock. “I suppose all these folk are gonna be heading back to the future now.” He said after a few seconds of stunned silence.

“Yeah.” Saxon concurred. “But do we really want to join them? I mean, isn’t this the perfect opportunity to get out of the catering industry. Here we can be anything we want to be – within reason, of course: we are limited by our sub-par education and average intellect.”

“Hmm,” Wilson responded thoughtfully. “That Cafe Puke place sounds interesting. If we could improve the coffee there, we could make it a real hit.”

“Great idea, Wilson, baby.” Saxon replied. “All we need are a few more customers.”

Well at that moment Magnuss and Hair-Trigger were returning from across the Obsidian Plain. Naturally the overjoyed museum inhabitants whom they had released from incarceration raced ahead. Even as the catering staff’s conversation came to a close, the returnees were pouring into the Grand Hall…

They were happy-happy-happy…

…and headed straight in the direction of the only working watering hole around: the Cafe Puke…

They didn’t know it, of course, but Duncan, Saxon, and Wilson’s futures seemed assured.

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018

 

The Time Tamperer (part 53)

Tanganika had been waiting a while for Magnuss and Hair-Trigger to arrive at Hangar Twelve. So long, in fact, that she’d been forced to remove her space helmet to avoid copious perspiration, which would have resulted in a nasty, sweaty lining…

“Okay,” she said without preamble, as they arrived at a rush; “what’s so special about Hangar Twelve?”

“It’s where they keep the museum’s Defence Fighters.” Magnuss explained. “Attack saucers stand at constant readiness, you know.”

“In case of attack from outer space.” Hair-Trigger added.

Tanganika wasn’t a space pilot for nothing: she was quick on the uptake: “So you want me to attack the Nevertron? In its hardened, defensive-screened castle?”

“No, of course not!” Magnuss exclaimed in astonishment. “I could never send a girl like you to certain death – or even almost certain death. Or even down a coal pit or down the shops, for that matter. No: I need you to show me how to set the controls for a vertical attack posture. I’m going to make the assault on the Nevertron, like an old-time dive bomber.

Tanganika didn’t respond initially; but eventually she said: “Yeah, okay. Good idea.”

Moments later they were inside the hangar…

…where Tanganika dropped an unexpected verbal bombshell: “Sorry, Magnuss,” she said, “but you’re a national treasure. I can’t let you make the attack.”

Hair-Trigger began to say something, but before any words could emerge from her stripy face, this happened…

Yes, Tanganika broke wind and burped simultaneously; and since she’d been chewing garlic cloves to fend off the boredom throughout her interminable wait outside of Hangar Twelve, the result was stunning. Literally…

As the daring duo lay in a state of induced somnolence, Tanganika crammed herself into the pilot’s blister of the nearest Fighter.

Magnuss and Hair-Trigger still hadn’t moved when the fighter’s jet wash almost…er…washed over them…

Upon the, aforementioned, jet wash the fighter climbed vertically…

Higher and higher it climbed…

…until it was half-way to the ceiling. Then, when she thought she’d mastered the controls sufficiently well…

…Tanganika tilted the ship so that it could begin lateral movement…

…and accelerated so quickly along a pleasantly blue corridor…

…that her vision blurred so badly all she could see was a red mist.

It was just about at that exact moment that Mincey thought she heard something…

That ‘something‘ was a call from Magnuss and Hair-Trigger…

…who had awoken, engaged their brains, considered their next course of action, made a quick decision to attempt subterfuge, and raced to the Omnipresent Scanner, where they switched on the com-link. Daring to snatch a brief look at each other, they spoke in unison in (what they hoped was) an un-plug-like and spooky voice: “Mincey Muir – you have five minutes in which to drop your shields, open the front door, and surrender yourself and the Nevertron. Failure to comply with this demand will result in your certain destruction.”

Inside Nevertron Castle, Mincey flew into a rage…

“Destruction?” She screamed. “You don’t know the meaning of the word, you big, stupid…er…thing, with an equally stupid voice. I’d sooner drop my guts than drop my shields. You try anything clever; and I’ll use the Nevertron to destroy everything – including you!

© Paul Trevor Nolan 2018