Wednesday, December 19, 2018

A New Dope Part 5 of 8


The Aluminum Fulcrum sat in a yawning brightly-lit bay within the Giant Bowling Ball in the Sky. A full battalion of stormpoopers stood in a perfect grid, blaster rifles held against their white enamel chest plates while Sargent Goosestep stood at the base of the gangway ramp. A company of stormpoopers came marching down the ramp. “There’s nobody on board,” said Group leader Wankenshnitzel. “The log shows that they all aborted in a shuttle craft.”

Goosestep turned to his sidekick, Corporal Adolf Uberprick. “Track the shuttle and bring it in. I want the occupants taken alive. DO NOT…! disappoint me!”

“Yes sir,” said Corporal Uberprick. He marched swiftly away.

“Gambino, Weinerhausen, scan the entire interior and report back to me. I’ll be in my office.”

The two poopers nodded and proceeded forward with a wide-mouthed gun-like instrument.

Goosestep marched away and the battalion fell in line behind him except for Gambino and Weinerhausen who boarded the ship.

Meanwhile in a dark compartment below the floor the six Aluminum Fulcrum occupants sat cross-legged except for the short cylindrical RBC who stood in his normal three-point stance. He quietly clicked and ticked and whirred.

“Shut him up,” hissed Solo.

“What?” whispered CIBC to RBC. “Are you sure?”

“I said…” said Solo.

“The princess is on board!” said CIBC.

“What?” said Solo.

“Princess Louise?” asked Ben.

“Yes,” said CIBC.

“Is he sure?” asked Fluke.

“Yes Master Fluke!” snapped CIBC. “What did I just say?”


“He hacked into the ship’s wi-fi,” whispered CIBC.

“You must rescue her,” said Ben, “While I find the tractor beam power source and disable it.”

“You’re out of your mind,” said Solo, then: “Quiet!” Footsteps approached overhead. They all went silent. Then just as they were about to trod above, RBC issued a quiet but high-pitched alarm. Solo  immediately wanted to wring the neck of the confounded mechanical beast but had no way of doing this. What RBC was trying to say meanwhile, and far too late, was that the disguised trapdoor above them was not altogether properly in place; a fact that became all too apparent to the company as stormpoopers Gambino and Weinerhausen came crashing down on top of them.

The madness which followed would be lengthy and cumbersome to describe in prose but suffice to say: there were a great many bumps and bruises and hurt feelings applied to all parties involved and a great kerfluffle and much alarm, but with great fortune the Fulcrumites were victorious in apprehending and immobilizing the imperial intruders, stripping them naked, clicking a few compromising snapshots and warning them these would be all over the galactic internet in no time flat if they didn’t shut up and play ball.

“Okay, we got some rescuing to do, Hand,” said Fluke.

“Not on your life,” said Solo.

“There will be a huge reward,” said Fluke.

“Will there?” said Solo, looking to Ben. Ben nodded sagely. “Okay, let’s get started then.”

“RB says she’s being held in Detention Block D.”

Fluke and Solo quickly dressed up in all the poopers clothes and poop suits, tying down and gagging the unwilling donors. “Stay here, you two,” said Master Fluke to his little steampunker dudes. Looking like official stormpoopers, Fluke and Solo handcuffed wookie of the year Chewingtobacca and led him out of the Aluminum Fulcrum. They looked around, and seeing the coast was clear, Luke let loose a brief whistle, then the three carried on while Ben, upon hearing the signal, slipped out of the Fulcrum and dodged away into the shadows.

After a short while RBC began rolling away.

“My stars!” exclaimed CIBC. “Where do you think you’re going!”

RB hooted and bleeped and thrummed.

“But Master Fluke-”

RB tooted and honked.

“What!” said CIBC. “Master Fluke can go - what - himself?”

(To be continued tomorrow… if you can stand it…)

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