Arthur stood there giving
the TEABAG goblins a dressing gown. (I meant down but gown sounds
funnier.)
“I don't want this,”
balked Smetherwick as he handed Arthur the dressing gown back, “it's
pink!“
“Not a girl's colour in
this time and dimension,” spoffed Arthur.
“Still...”
“Now look here,”
continued Arthur, “you left Ruhtra behind.”
“He's dead,”
re-iterated Tunning-Cymbals, “Shill told us so.”
“He's not, I have it on
good authority...”
“Which authority?”
“The Author authority.”
“Oh, do you believe in
him?”
“It goes without
asking, anyway he wasn't killed just mashed up a bit so that you lot
have to rescue him.”
“Why us?” moaned
Vinigrette.
“The story's about the
TEABAG goblins?” he looked forcefully at them, “that's what YOU
are!“
Smetherwick looked at
Vinigrette, “We'd better do it or we'll not get paid by the Funny
Character's Union.”
“Are you Union spies or
not?” queried Arthur.
“Erm, sort of,”
thought Smetherwick, “we're part of the Funny Character's Union
Special Fun Force.”
“And what's that when
it's at home?”
“We observe Union
members and if they're not funny enough we can either revoke their
licence...” Arthur immediately went into his slapstick routine
with Sid, who was quite non-plussed. Smetherwick looked disparagingly
at the Colonel/King. “Or...”
Arthur stopped, hoping
that his 'slap a pork pie in Sid's face' was good enough to keep him
in the Union.
“We have the authority
to make things funnier.”
Sid spat out the crumbled pork pie, “I hate the pork pie slapstick
routine,” he grumbled, “it makes me feel that snout is sacred.”
Smetherwick got out his notepad and compared notes with the other
goblins, “Snout,” he compared, “it IS a pig joke...”
“But not necessarily a
pork pie joke,” warned Vinigrette.
“Oi'll give it foive,”
utterated Tunning-Cymbals (if anyone is old enough and British
enough to understand that reference, if not then look at Janice
Nicholls and 'Thank Your Lucky Stars' on YouTube.)
The TEABAG colonel looked absolutely agog in desperate panic to see
if a five was good enough to keep him in the Union.
“What about me?”
moaned Sid.
“Automatic 10,”
replied Smetherwick, “even adjusting for the racial bias between
goblins and dwarves.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“A lemon, a lemon, my
kingdom for a lemon.”
In the belly of the Tesla coil powered airship Smetherwick was
looking at Vinigrette and spoke softly, “I can't wait till this gig
is up. It sickens me to have to work with dwarves and elves.”
“Me too,” bawled
Vinigrette, “I want to get back to bashing them not befriending
them.”
“What about Ruhtra
though?” suggested Tunning-Cymbals, “he's a wicked shape changer,
turned good. It shouldn't take a lot to to set him back on the road
to destruction.”
“Like a knife in the
back it was to so traitorously treat our own goblin kind at the tower
of Awat.”
They all looked goblinish
and nasty until Soft Ann popped her head round the door, “Tea
anyone?”
They quickly put on their
snooty faces.
“Er, Darjeeling for
me,” said Tunning-Cymbals.
“Assam for me,”
quoted Vinigrette.
“Lap...”
“Sorry,” interjected
Soft Ann, “we only have Theran Eran, or coffee.”
“Oh,” snooted
Smetherwick, “erm, coffee then, for us all.”
Brug was on the island where Corsica would have been on the earth.
The tower of Awat was in the South of the island, Brug was in the
North. The safety of the electric shield kept Brug from attack, the
tower of Awat had no such protection. To get back inside the safety
of the electric shield, he's would have to make contact with the
outpost about 6 miles before the city. He's could not pass through
the shield or he's would turn into green jelly again.
“Mmm,” mmmed the
lesser of the two Ruhtra's, “green jelly, I like that.”
He's didn't know much about Fenegans, well, about any of this world
really. He's would have to play it by ear (or ears?)
The Fenegan entry post was well fortified in case giants or other
enemies tried to access the protection of the area behind the
electric shield.
Two gun turrets surveyed the skies about the area and a large
artillery piece looked out to sea to guard the approach from that
direction by naval units (no, not navel units!) [Swimming belly
dancers by chance?]
“Ooer,” exclaimed
Ruhtra 1 from the side of his mouth that was facing forward.
As quickly as he could speak from the side of his mouth Ruhtra 1
spat, “Secret mission to rescue our Queen, gone wrong, stomped on
by Lord D'ark's Pegasus.”
“Mmm,” hummed the
voice on the other end, “I didn't quite understand that, but your
outfit shows that you're from the British colony. I'll assume you're
lost and need help.”
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