Where are the Feathers?
“Vell, boss, I t’ink it’s cement. And I t’ink we better t’ink about getting the heck out of here,” said Gus Stoppo, moving away from the the drain hole grating above him as concrete began to ooze its way through.
“Where does this tunnel lead, Gus?” asked Grody Pudge. “Let’s get outta here, quick! We’re obviously dealing with madmen!”
“I don’t know vhere it goes, but there’s light down that vay, boss.”
The two men made their way through the dark damp tunnel, staying to either side of the artificial creek of chemicals and refuse that ran down the center of the tube. Once Pudge slipped and fell into the slime but Stoppo was able to grab him and keep his head from going under.
After two hours of traveling in the tunnel Grody turned to Gus, “I need to rest, Gus.”
“Ve can’t rest, boss. Look behird us.” Grody turned to see the wall of cement steadily stalking them from behind. Gus continued, “It’s only about 25 meters behind us. Here, let me carry you.”
“You can’t, I’m too heavy.”
“You ain’t heavy. You’re my CEO,” replied Stoppo, hoisting Pudge onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and continuing to plod along the slime creek toward the light that still shined in the distance.
Stedur, the Rastafarian monk, sat alone under a tree near the tar pits that the survivors of the Blutomo had discovered. He had wandered off from the rest of the group to be alone and to contemplate their predicament.
“Captain Carlicbreath to Admiral Bozoni. Captain Garlicbreath to Admiral Bozoni. Come in Admiral Bozoni.” Captain Garlicbreath turned to his first mate, “Can you find them on the long range scanner?”
“Negative, Sir. All we see on the scanner is a small stellar system at about 200 million kilometers. We think we’ve located the planet on the far side of star.”
“I was afraid of this. Neptune influenced us the least because of our battleship mass, the Big Apple and Cosmic Partner way have been thrown light-years off course.”
“What are your orders, Captain?”
“All ion drives ahead full! Set the heading for the planet you’ve found. I just hope it’s the right one.”
“You know, if it hadn’t been for you we wouldn’t be in this mess,” shouted Mio from Rio.
“What do you mean?” replied Bill Torque, taken aback by the comment.
“You were the one who suggested we leave the complex. Senor Robotto and I would have been just fine if we had never met you!”
“Hey! I’ve taken just about enough from you, fruit hat! If I hadn’t gotten you out of your lab, you would have been reduced.”
“Well that’s better than being stuck on this unknown…”
The conversation was cut short as Mr. Robotto rolled toward them. “What are you discussing?” asked the automaton.
Bill walked away as Mio answered “We are very depressed, Senor Robotto. We don’t know what is going to happen to us. For a human being that is very disconcerting.”
“I shall emulate sorrow if it will help you.”
Robotto and Mio followed Bill as he walked along the edge of the tar pits kicking pebbles into the black goo. After a while he sat down on a rock and put his hands on his head. Mio and the robot approached him quitely.
“You must not blame yourself for this predicament,” said Mr. Robotto, placing his metallic hand clamp on Bill’s shoulder. “It is my fault. I am the one…”
“Oyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” shrieked Mio, pointing to one of the bubbling craters. “Look over there!”
“Wazzat?” exclaimed Bill as the trio scrambled behind a rock for cover. From the crater emerged an ape-like creature completely covered with the black pitch. As it dragged itself onto the dry ground between the bubbling tar pools, it turned back and assisted another ceature out of the crater.
“I don’t believe it!” shouted Mio, “I don’t believe it! I just don’t believe it!”
“What!?” asked Bill and Robetto in unison.
“It’s Grodin Pudge and Gus Stoppo!”