the ramble dump

A flock of spacesheep waded through the weightless atmosphere, free and wild.

* * *
IT ALWAYS HAPPENS... WHEN LIFE IS AT ITS MOST NORMALEST...

* * *
Miss Darley sat at her desk, scanning for things to whinge about. A small pile of envelopes caught her attention. 'Ooh, fan mail!' she exclaimed, grabbing the topmost envelope. Using a diamond-encrusted letter opener, for no good reason as it would be just as easy to rip it, she tore it open.

A small, brightly coloured letter fell to the desk. 'YOU'RE OUR ONE MILLIONTH CUSTOMER!!!' it read.

Tears began to swim past Miss Darley's eyes. She decided to try again.

* * *
Winnie was currently driving as slowly as her car would allow her to without stopping altogether. The traffic behind her was starting to build up and, judging by the honking horns, was also becoming quite frustrated.

She decided that she was much too elderly to notice this, and continued to happily crawl along, positioning herself carefully so that any overtaking would be an extremely difficult task.

* * *
Shaking her head, Organza smiled a hideous smile at her husband and replied, 'You like it disgracefully untidy and you know it.'

He grunted and after a moment, said, 'What is the kid good for, eh?' Gen appeared in the doorway at that moment, standing unhappily, watching her stepparents. 'What is the kid good for,' her stepfather repeated, more loudly, 'if we can't order her pointlessly around? Eh, honey? Water the plants, Hydie. And then mop the ceilings. All of them.'

Gen looked around the room and thought to herself, they are fake plants.

* * *
SOMETHING HAPPENS WHICH NOBODY EXPECTS...

* * *
'Er...is this Miss Darley?'

The addressed woman took her turn to snort. 'Of course, for this is my phone!'

'People with money and brains hire secretaries,' mumbled Agaffa.

Miss Darley ignored her.

The caller respoke, after being momentarily confused by the argument. 'Um... I was wondering... would you be interested in obtaining... the Elixir of Life?'

* * *
Gen was clutching at the railings on the left, gazing down at the struggling mass below that was apparently her stepfather. She gasped.

He was spinning madly around, swinging his great tail dangerously and flailing his pathetic, tiny, useless little arms. Two slaveboys clung to his thick skin, tugging and tearing viciously at it, and at his sticky clumps and clusters of hair, pulling it out. Fluorescent green, viscous liquid oozed from his layered folds of fat. He was bleeding.

The slaveboys looked crazed, insane. Their eyes were wide and bloodshot, their teeth bared. Gen could tell that they were extremely tense just by looking at them: their muscles were stiffened, the veins in their small temples bulged, their hands extended like claws.


* * *
'Behold,' mumbled Phil, vaguely.

'Aren't shadows fun?' said Beef conversationally, as some more gum hitchhiked his fur. 'I can do the rabbit thing. Y'know, with the ears...' He made a strange gesture with his arms in an attempt to clarify his point, and promptly collapsed face down onto the ground again.

'Behold,' insisted Phil.

Beef finally managed to get himself up, relying heavily on the support of a wall. He squinted and fancied he saw something looking out from the darkness at him.

'Rahahahaha!' declared Phil, waving his arms about madly.

* * *
AND BEFORE YOU KNOW IT...

* * *
The porcelain girl fell from their grasp and slid down the roof, grating nastily against the tiles. As the two men flung themselves in the direction she travelled, somehow still on top of each other, they too rolled down not far behind, struggling madly to get a hold of something. They left the roof...

* * *
...THINGS... WELL...

* * *
The dark, grey sky cracked with streaks of yellow light and rain fell. The great balloon that was the dirigible stood as a tall, haunting silhouette against the clouds.

It was all very dramatic.

Miss Darley appeared on the scene. Still in her silk pyjamas and tired (because it isn't clever to have adventures at midnight), she plodded towards her vehicle of escape.

* * *
'Look out!' someone shouted. Slavekids rarely spoke, and Gen had never heard any of them shout before. Her companion ducked and pulled her down with him. She turned her head to see one of her stepsiblings trying to skateboard up the curved wall of the corridor, perhaps in an attempt to overtake the rushing slavekids. It wasn't working.

* * *
...GET A BIT OUT OF CONTROL.

* * *
'Emby, these men are ruining my house,' said Winnie, as Beef re-entered the room. 'I'd like you to do something about it.'

Beef rushed over to the original intruder and began to poke his flab with a fork. After the third or fourth stab, it stayed there, moving around a little before being dragged inwards and disappearing altogether.

'That didn't work,' said Beef. 'We may have to try something else.'

* * *
The Captain, simultaneously trying to steer, slammed his fist down on a fluorescent green button. For a moment, the lights on the ship dimmed, flickered and then restored. There was a jolt as energy surged across the surface of the ship.

* * *
'Ah, monkeys,' said Miss Darley. She stepped smartly forth. 'Which one of you is the one I spoke to on the phone?'

'Seize them!' hissed Kadaverus.

'Aaah,' cried Agaffa. 'It's a trap! It's all been a terrible trap! We were lured here so they could cook us over a spit and then eat us alive!'

'How would we still be alive after they've cooked us over a spit?'

'Mysterious are the workings of the evil,' said Agaffa, darkly.

* * *
There were about eight of them now, and they tumbled and swept through the street like a tweed tidal wave. Lampposts snapped under their weight. One of them planted a foot directly on top of a car. The metal body strained under the pressure, and the entire vehicle bent in two, folding up like a deck chair.

* * *
Stat entered the cockpit. 'This is mad,' she told them, having figured out what they were going to do.

''Course it is,' said the Captain. 'You're all mad. Mad, crazy and insane also.'

* * *
'Oh my f-'

* * *
FATMANINTWEED.COM. COMING TO YOUR SCREENS AT SOME POINT IN THE DISTANT FUTURE.

* * *
'Whorebag!'

Labels: agaffa, excerpts, starcustard, the aberration

# posted by Chris @ 4:09 PM