Tuesday, December 27, 2016
The Wabbit's android doubles seem to be having fun in their own company. Despite the data transfer, Wabsword hadn't quite caught up. Wabsworth said it was only a matter of time. Wabsword nodded and chortled. "No time like the present." He looked along the coastline and Wabsworth followed his gaze. "I think the Fifth Force will come from the sea." They considered the matter with much muttering but Tipsy suddenly leaped in the air. "Panico! Terni!" Panico hurtled along the beach with a clenched a fist over his mouth. "We're all going to die!" "Not before our date," yelled Tipsy. Panico dropped his fist and smiled. "Are we going to the movies? They won't let us in." Wabsword was confused. "Who's Panico? And what's that dragon? He looks like a cabbage." Terni batted his cabbage wings and the resulting wind swept sand along the beach. "I didn't fall off a truck, you know." Wabsworth spoke into his radio. "Wabsworth. Read?" The radio crackled viciously and the Wabbit spoke. "Roger that. What's your 20?" "On the waterfront," responded Wabsworth. "Everyone there?" asked the Wabbit. "Negative," answered Wabsworth. "Waiting for the two Skratches and Puma." The radio burped and whistled. "Stand by," Panico struck the sand-filled sugar bags and yelled anxiously. "They won't be on time." Terni wheeled in the sky. "I'll pick them up." The radio crackled. "Obtain," said the Wabbit, "but not by the fur."
Saturday, December 24, 2016
[Bunch of fives: A fist used in a fight. Not a dicky bird (Cockney rhyming slang.): Not a word]
Thursday, December 22, 2016
Despite his android status, Wabsword had a thing about Tipsy - and the more she appeared to misbehave the more he liked it. On the other paw, Wabsworth knew exactly what Tipsy was doing. So he watched as Tipsy presented a snazer gun to Wabsword. "Shtate of the art fully automatic shlime firing weapon. Guaranteed to shtop an enemy in itsh track and keep 'em there." "How long for?" enquired Wabsword. "Long enough to shtomp on 'em." slurred Tipsy. "I don't know this place," said Wabsword, looking around. "It's after your time," smiled Wabsworth. Wabsword gazed at the sign on the door. "It doesn't look very secret." "No-one dares enter," shrugged Wabsworth. "No-one?" asked Wabsword. Wabsworth grimaced. "Only one. Now he's inhospitably housed in the Sombrero Galaxy." Wabsword gulped and looked at Tipsy. "Reassure me these snazers are completely analogue." "Completely," smiled Tipsy, "nothing digital whatshoever." She flicked a switch and the weapon whined into life. "Apart from the metal casing itsh completely organic. Wanna try?" She stroked the trigger with affection. "I'll take your word for it," grinned Wabsword. Wabsworth drew closer. "No digital communications, everything must be old technology." "What about the radio?" asked Tipsy. "Two tin cans and a bit of string?" suggested Wabsword. They all laughed for a while. "But what about us?" asked Wabsword suddenly. Wabsworth clicked and spoke robotically. "Activating cloaking concealment."
Friday, December 16, 2016
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
Friday, December 09, 2016
Quantum's clock announced the time and they disembarked. But they had company. Their other selves hopped from Motor Unit One and no-one looked pleased. Except for the other Skratch, who purred and waved and made a general fuss. Skratch thought it unwise to wave back. His claws extended, his fur bristled. From deep in his throat a growl emerged. Mist swirled around Motor Unit One. "State your business, imposters." "You're delayed," said the Wabbit. He activated his mechanical hand and gave a carefree wave. "Crew of Motor Unit One. This is the day before yesterday, so please try to catch up." Lapinette's voice was an urgent whisper. "Don't touch them." "That's an awful frock," said the other Lapinette suddenly. The Wabbit flinched. Wabsworth stepped back. Lapinette stroked her edged weapon - enough to draw blood - and then she hissed. "Your frock has seen better days." "Mine's original," snapped the other Lapinette. A stare off lasted some time. "Motor Unit One, you have to go back," announced Wabsworth suddenly. His opposite number nodded. "He's right. We're entangled, Commander." "So why don't they go back?" came their Commander's reply. Motor Unit One's klaxon blasted. Mist rose from his wheels. "This is the work of the Fifth Force." "We'll join forces and work together," suggested the Wabbit. "Then who's in charge?" asked Skratch. "Me," said both Wabbits ...