…then the tattered hands of the Blue Glofmillion closed around Arthur’s neck – much like the tattered hands of a Red Glofmillion closing around the neck of a man – and at the same moment. the tattered hands of the Yellow Glofmillion closed around Peralopolies neck – like the tattered hands of a Blue Glofmillion closing around the neck of Arthur – which was reminiscent of the feeling brought on by the Red Glofmillion, which was at that very moment busy closing its own tattered hands, around the neck of Mrs Slefton – which brought to mind the previous day’s events – where the Brownish Glofmillion had partially strangled itself, with its own tattered hands.
The Grey Glofmillion and the Peachy Glofmillion – who were squatting beside the recently flocked, paisley tea-set – looked on with obvious distaste and wondered why their own hands had now become tattered; “A cream of some sort would probably help, mayhap something with cocoanuts in.” the Grey Glofmillion mumbled to himself, then wondered why he had said ‘mayhap’ and began the slow strangulation of the Peachy Glofmillion, who had been getting on his wick for the last hour, with his incessant reciting of Wordsworth’s lyrical ballad ‘A slumber did my sprit seal’.
On the other side of the world, Lupin’s return to Earth had turned out to be an unqualified success. The endless vortex, it turned out, had been miss-sold, and turned out to have not just one, but three ends. Each one was much the same – a plastic cat flap measuring about 6″x6″, opening into different doors of the same bungalow, in a fairly bland suburb of Melbourne – with the only real difference, being a very subtle nuance in the smell each flap. Lupin had chosen the left hand cat flap, which smelt ever so slightly of cinnamon. Upon investigation, the right hand cat flap smelt of dogs and the central one, had a subtle aroma, that seemed to imply the future annihilation of the entire universe. Lupin decided that he had chosen the correct flap.
In the heart of the mist filled field, stood a small patch of fog and a young cloud. They had been in the field for the last hour, discussing the strange smoke that was passing overhead and the effect it would have on the dissipation of steam from the Kellykettle, which gently rested on the […]
Peralopolies spread butter on another muffin, Lupin the cat stood up in his new trousers and turned off the alarm, Arthur re-tuned his harp, Mrs Slefton stroked Peter’s hair for the third time, John held his breath for a further minute, Gregory licked his hind quarters and then coughed, Jacky Jack John John wiped his […]
All of the biscuits were ruined. Peralopolies uttered a small cry, lowered his pants and scuttled back to the docking bay. Arthur sat for a moment, then spent a bit longer sitting, which meant the moment was turned into an hour, then a week, then two months and finally a year. When he tried to […]
“Stand aside, stand aside you fool, let me get to the patient.” The echo of a doctor’s words reached Lupin the cat’s ears and it came from the deepest depths of the universal pit, from a forgotten world and a time many moons before the intergalactic atrocities. Lupin sat still and rolled the words around […]
As he sipped his broth from the new copper punnet, it dawned on Arthur that all strange things that had happened to him in the last few days, had happened largely because of Lupin the cat’s experiments with the reversal of time. He ventured this hypothesis to Peralopolies, who immediately removed his pants and struck […]
“I love you.” As the word left Lupin the cat’s mouth, he realised his mistake; the robot from the future let out a scream of terror and reversed straight back into the time portal, thereby ending all chance Lupin had of returning home. At that very moment, in another place and in another time, Arthur […]
“Call me… Ishmael”, said Peralopolies, as he read the first line of Moby Dick. “Ishmael, go and put the standard resuscitation headlock on Mrs Slefton this instant”, instructed the heavily sweating mouth of Arthur. He was now leaning against the new brick-lined portcullis, feeling exactly like a man holding a small neutered man in his […]
All is lost cried Arthur, as he wiped the feline spittle from his now ruined paisley tunic. Mrs Slefton picked up the kindle of kittens and walked, like a woman prisoner on her way to play badminton, towards the kitchen and the pre-heated oven that awaited them. “Tardy…Tardy…Tardy…Tardy…”, at least the Tardionator is still running […]
Rápido, rápido de buceo, para la cubierta, van a venir y en un poco de velocidad! Arthur did his very best impression of a man diving under a table; this involved a simultaneous smashing head-long into the edge of said table and also the blocking of an elegant and textbook dive that Peralopolies had performed. […]