Getting Ahead of Myself

Book No 17 of the Earplug Adventures is finished, and (as I hope you have noticed) it is being serialised here prior to release as an e-book. But when opportunities (whereby I can steal a march on myself and snap a few shots for Book No 18) present themselves, I grab those situations with both hands. Today I found some discarded office photocopier toner cartridges. They were empty, supposedly. But as we know with ink cartridges for our personal photocopiers, empty ones are seldom truly empty. So I took a large sheet of white cardboard and laid it upon the ground. I then punctured one of the aforementioned toner cartridges and carefully sprinkled the contents upon the cardboard. After photographing the result I used my laptop to reverse the negative. The result (one of several, I should add)  will be used as background shots for future adventures…

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Yup, the next adventure will follow the exploits of the K.T Woo and the Chi Z Helmut – out there in the depths of the Galaxy. But, naturally, the good old Museum of Future Technology won’t be ignored completely. And who knows, maybe Magnuss and Hair-Trigger will find a means whereby they play significant roles! But until then, enjoy Earplug Adventures: Unity. And don’t forget that ALL the earlier tales are available from almost every e-book seller in the world! 

Tooty

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Earplug Adventures: Unity (part 24)

That, in turn, led him to a plate-glass window that looked over an abandoned subterranean hover pad park…

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Entering via a small pedestrian door, Bucksome was accosted by none other than former Running Back – Dan Down’n’out, and the Stenchlinger siblings, Horst and Greta…

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“For a way into the museum, you must be looking.” Horst both stated and inquired at the same time in his strange back-to-front way of talking.

“Ja, to be sure.” Greta added with a smile. “Give me a kiss and tickle my bum, and the way I shall be showing you.”

Greta may have been an ugly old bag lady, but Bucksome was a lonely old pea farmer. He would have acquiesced happily to far greater demands from the ageing female earplug.

“Yeah, okay.” He said, and did the job there and then. He then prepared himself for the information.

“The service elevator.” Dan said – respect for Bucksome evident in every syllable. He indicated an open deck elevator that was attached to a lifting system hidden inside the wall. “There it is.” He said. “But hold on to your wedding tackle: this thing accelerates like the wind.”

Seconds later…

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…Bucksome was grateful that he’d decided to wear his fur-lined jockstrap that morning. But he also noted that the elevator decelerated like the wind too. Or more accurately it decelerated like an anchor…

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His sinuous pea farmer’s body recovering quickly, Bucksome moved on to an ‘Up’ ramp.

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At the head of the ramp he peered through an interior window…

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And what he saw appalled him. Much of the interior had been transformed into a metallic travesty. One particular area that had, so far, avoided transformation, contained three zombies who were looking into a hole that could only have been formed by a meteor crashing to earth. With no other recourse open to him, Bucksome went to speak with them…

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But as he approached, Mary spotted him…

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“Argh!” She would have yelled – had she any air in her decomposed lungs.

“Stay back.” Raj croaked his warning. “This place is lethal!”

Bucksome paused mid-stride. “Hang on,” he said suspiciously, “if it’s lethal, how come you’re not dead?”

“We are.” Kevin replied upon Raj’s behalf after his co-zombie’s throat fell off. “We’re zombies: we’ve been dead for years.”

Bucksome had never encountered zombies before. He’d always thought that they were the figments of twisted writer’s imaginations. And he’d sat alone in the dark watching late night horror films so many times that he knew, for certain, that zombies were really scary.

Mary must have noticed Bucksome’s transparent thoughts as they marched across his face, producing a wide array of expressions. She knew that she must act quickly, or the country-bumpkin newcomer was doomed to die horribly – and permanently.

“Yeah,” she lied with a sneering whisper, “we’ll bite you, and turn you into a zombie too!”

This was all the impetus Bucksome required to turn and flee…

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As he ran from the scene he called over his shoulder: “I don’t suppose any of you know where I can find an ass hole named Don Quiborrocks, do you?”

All three zombies knew exactly where Don Quiborrocks was staying: unfortunately none of them had sufficient breath to call back to the rapidly retreating earplug.

“Never mind.” Kevin said as he turned back to examining the meteor strike, “I’m sure he’ll come across him eventually.”

© Paul Trevor Nolan

 

 

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Earplug Adventures: Unity (part 23)

Approximately two seconds later…

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Upon leaving the police station, Bucksome went straight to Transfer Conduit Station Seven…

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…where he checked upon the destination of one certain Don Quiborrocks, and then bought a ticket to the same place for himself…

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Although he had to use the Automatic Vendor because the ticket dispenser, Frenchie Corhampton, had (only two days earlier) put on her outdoors hat and abandoned the ticket office to begin her quest to stalk the same Don Quiborrocks that Bucksome now sought.

The journey along the transfer conduit was uneventful, but when Bucksome arrived at the Museum of Future Technology he discovered that a strange form of force field had been erected across the entrance…

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Naturally he hammered upon it ineffectively for several minutes – calling out angrily in his local dialect. Eventually a light flicked on above the entrance…

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A voice emanated from it:

“Are you stupid or something?”

Bucksome was about to answer in the negative – stating in his defense that he was a pea farmer who didn’t know that force fields were impenetrable, when the voice added:

“Piss off, and don’t come back.”

Defeated at the first challenge, Bucksome Whelk wandered along the outer wall of the museum, a look of blank dejection upon his long face…

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It was there that his sensitive pea farmer’s nose detected the passage of earlier earplugs shunned by the museum’s cybernetic security system. So, more in desperation than hope, he followed the aromatic trail. Soon he stumbled upon an open service access panel. With light provided by the moon shining over his shoulder, he entered…

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Once inside he found a service access hatch. It contained a ladder that led in only one direction…

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Clambering down the rusty rungs, Bucksome found himself at a sewage outlet…

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But an adjoining side tunnel…

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…took him to a frighteningly precipitous walkway, which required all his strength of will and intense desire for revenge to cross…

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© Paul Trevor Nolan

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Battered Barns 33: Ghastly Garden

The shed in this picture actually looks quite sound. But how the hell is anyone supposed to get to it?

blue shed

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After the Blissful Chihuahua…

…comes blissful Mutton!

blissful mutton

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Earplug Adventures: Unity (part 22)

So, after Bucksome had returned to the farm buildings…

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…his staff were expecting to hear that their services were no longer required, and that they could return to the bosom of their families in the former communist states from whence they had come to the dusty plain. They even conjectured upon the size of the severance cheque. But they were to be disappointed…

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“Right then.” Bucksome said. “I want you to re-plant with seeds from the store. I intend to learn the identity of the miscreant who had attempted to destroy my life’s work. I’ll be back when I’m back. Get to work.”

With that he strode off across the newly barren landscape…

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…and straight to the local jail…

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…where he discovered the recently seconded Police Constable Salisbury Wilts standing inside his armoured station desk…

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After telling Salisbury about his problem with ultra-vandals and agricultural terrorists, Bucksome found himself being taken to visit  one of the cells…

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“These little bastards look familiar?” The Police Constable inquired.

Bucksome shook his head: he’d never seen the plugmutts before in his life. He said as much.

So Salisbury opened the cell door…

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“I’m surprised.” He said. “Because when my deputies apprehended these two they were found to be bloated, semi-conscious, their molars were filled with crushed pea stems, and their anuses were red-raw from over-shitting.”

Bucksome nodded his understanding. “What are your names?” He asked the plugmutts.

Neither could remember.

“They’ve both been microchipped.” Salisbury informed him. “They are both registered to a certain Don Quiborrocks. Do you recognise the name?”

“Never heard of him.” Bucksome snarled. “But he’s gonna hear about me. I’m gonna take something and shove it up his ass. And it’s gonna be a piece of his own anatomy. I wonder where he lives.”

“Gone.” The large white plugmutt known as Gargantua said.

“To Museum of Future Techno-something.” Epididymis added.

“Yeah.” Gargantua spoke again. “After he tell us to crush and eat all peas everywhere.”

“He no like peas.” The small red plugmutt explained. “Keep him awake at night. Oh – maybe we should not mention psychological condition. Oh well – too late to worry about that. We go now?”

© Paul Trevor Nolan

 

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Earplug Adventures: Unity (part 21)

Meanwhile, far away upon the dusty plain that stood at the foot of the mountain range upon which Lemon Stone stood proudly…

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…hard-working pea farmer, Bucksome Whelk, was greeting the new day even before the sun had risen…

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He was a hyperactive workaholic, and there was nothing he enjoyed more than getting out of bed really early to do a long day’s hard labour in the pea fields. He kept a sign in his bedroom to remind him that he should never grow lax and become like his idols, Las Chicas De La Playas, a picture of whom he had pinned to his wall as a constant reminder.

No one else was around to see his porch light illuminate…

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Neither was there anyone present to see him step out into the pre-dawn…

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…in the full expectation of seeing his beautiful crop of young pea plants…

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But what Bucksome Whelk actually saw, in the dim light, made him stare disbelievingly like a startled gazelle caught in the headlight of an approaching trans-continental locomotive…

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…because, laid out in front of him like some terrible manifestation of a tortured mind, sat the largest, most humongous, pile of steaming manure that he had ever seen, or ever wanted to see…

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But if this wasn’t enough for the simple-minded pea farmer, the situation grew rapidly worse. As he finally circumnavigated the immense turd, Bucksome discovered…

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…that his pea seedlings had been swept away by some unimaginable force.

His work gang rushed from their quarters when they heard his scream of horror…

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They watched in disbelief as their employer stood so still among the ruination that he appeared to have been petrified…

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For Bucksome it became horror heaped upon horror as the lightening sky revealed that…

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…the entire crop had simply ceased to exist. Or, to be more precise, it had been transformed into excrement and deposited on the lawn of his farm-house.

“Right, that’s it.” He said as a grim determination swelled within his chest…

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…”I’m gonna talk to the guys about this.”

© Paul Trevor Nolan

 

 

 

 

 

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