Chapter Five

Okay, the random prompts for Rebel Camp NaNoWriMo have become a novella with a working outline and everything. I give you:

Admiral Bleeekxpritzle Versus The Drones Of Doom
(To be published in most other galaxies as The Drones Of Salvation Versus The Terrorist Bleeekxpritzle).

Chapter Five
The Coach

“Hmm.. My ride is here,” said Sir Admiral Gleeg Bleeekxpritzle.  “Fare thee well Officer James. You deserve a break today!” The Admiral Premier, Fifth Colony of the Twin Dwingeloo Galaxies Federation, also known as The Bleeekxter according to close friends or The Green Monstrosity according to enemies (mostly dead by the time of the telling of this illustrious tale), left the information window and set off toward the road where a shiny black limousine awaited. His enormous flat feet kicked up great clouds of dust as he stomped across the sandy yard. An expressionless driver emerged in black suit and cap and unhurriedly opened a rear door for the Admiral.

“Good morning good morning, Mr. Willis,” said the Admiral as he scissor-gripped the pair of cigarette butts from his lips and cast them over his shoulder. “It’s good to stay up late!”

“Good morning, Sir Admiral Gleeg,” said Bruce. He pulled a lighter from his breast pocket. “You look very.. relaxed today.”

The Admiral stopped before the driver and searched the pockets of his mammoth Bermuda shorts before locating his cigarette pack. The driver lit another pair of smokes as they were brandished and then he helped push and shove his giant green client through the car door.

“Where to, Admiral?” said Mr. Willis as he entered the driver’s seat.

“To infinity and beyond!” said Admiral Bleeekxpritzle. “But first, to the Office of Light and Wellbeing.”

Bruce glanced at the clock on the console once they were underway. “Will you be stopping for your regular breakfast?” he said, looking up at the smoky haze revealed in the rear-view mirror. From somewhere within it came the warbled buzzing voice of the alien.

“Affirmative, Mr. Willis. Any time is coffee time.”

“Of course, sir. And if you don’t mind me asking, will you be meeting with His Gloriousness Himself today?”

“Negative. Today I will be meeting with the Quasi-Glorious Personal Assistant to His Gloriousness The Bean Pheasant. Her actual name escapes me.”

“I see.” Mr. Willis swung onto the ramp for the expressway.

“Along with a few moderately glowey members of council. Among them, Lady Mimosa; Carrier of the Blessed Fire, Lady Peejchelly; Carrier of The Olde Cheerio And Some Pocket Lint, and of course Miss Zhadow; Director of Ambient Lighting, with whom you are somewhat acquainted, I know.”

Bruce surrendered a half grin while his super serious eyes, of course, remained super serious.

“Oh, and also Lord Pheltphondle, Director of Minor Things Beginning With H. Great Gads! I do hope he‘s not going to prattle on and on and on about hiccups, hen eggs and hex-graphs again. You know, he’s suffered so many demotions since Emperor First Class you’d think he’d grasp his own redundancy and graciously retire! Blaccherrschmawzzle my djeedjif!”

Bruce glanced in the rear-view mirror.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Willis. That was terribly vulgar of me.”

“If you say so.”

“Not that this is any of your business, Mr. Willis.”

“You know,” said Mr. Willis, “Not that it’s any of my business but maybe they should promote Lord Pheltphondle to Director of Life Stages Beginning With R - you know - if they really want him to retire.”

Admiral Bleeekxpritzle puffed furiously, pulled the pair of fags from his lips and said, “I presume that was some hysterical bit of Earthling humour? What is it I say now? Do not give up your hum job?”

“Day job. But it was no joke. Just a suggestion, Sir Admiral Gleeg.”

The Admiral grunted, rubbed out his cigarette butts in the ash tray and began assembling a pair of rum and cokes. “Care for a pause that refreshes?”

“No thanks. I’ve had a few already this morning.”

“Uh oh! Friends don’t let friends drive drunk!”

“Don’t worry, Admiral. I’m a pro. You’ll get to the headquarters in one big turquoise piece.”

“And if we’re pulled over by the authorities meanwhile?” Bleeekxpritzle pulled the spoon from his tumbler and drank swiftly, the ice in the drink still jogging about.

“I’ll blow so green he’ll think it’s Saint Patrick’s Day.”