Minion 24-7

by Larry Mark

  Chapter 10

  As we leave the Gutboat grounds we see three figures approaching the front door up the long gravel drive. More of his thugs I expect, or visitors from the criminal underworld there to do shady deals... though rather shorter than most crime-lords.

  We trudge despondently up the mansion-lined length of Marbella Avenue. Or rather the other’s do and I’m dragged along, still struggling to get loose and run back to rescue Fluffy.

  “Casualty of war, Kevin,” says Sergeant Yellow-Fang as he drags me. “A sad business.”

  The houses grow smaller as we near the main road, the cars parked outside cheaper and less glittery.

  “We’re doomed,” Odo says as he takes my other ankle to help the sarge drag.

  “We need a miracle,” says Frank, a red light blinking under his chin. “Not that robots believe in miracles.”

  Up ahead at the junction with the main road there’s a sudden squeal of brakes, a crash, another longer squeal, a ripping noise, and a louder crash. Then silence, except for the traffic rumbling on.

  “What on Earth was that?” Sir Killer-Knight shouts.

  “To me it sounded like a fourteen wheeled articulated truck jack-knifing then falling over and spilling its cargo across the side of the road,” I say. Because it did. “A blue one!”

  “The ugly little one got it right!” shouts Captain Bort from the front of our procession. “Only it’s green.”

  Everyone races forward to have a look. It’s true. A huge lorry is on its side, the top ripped open, and thousands upon thousands of cardboard boxes are lying tumbled everywhere. Some have broken open, spilling smaller plastic-windowed boxes onto the verge. The driver is wandering away up the side of the road, looking a bit dazed.

  “What is it?” I ask, pleased to have stopped, because all that dragging has made my back a bit sore.

  “Goblins,” says Gobber.

  “No, that’s what we are.” I try to explain it slowly.

  “Goblins,” says Jabber.

  “You’re not really getting this,” I say. “We’re goblins. What’s in the truck?”

  “Girl goblins,” sighs Oooof.

  “It’s been a long wait.” Odo nods, letting go of my ankle.

  “You’ve already got girl-goblins, doofus!” Lucy smacks Odo around the head. Then something catches her eye. “Oooooo, ultra goblins!”

  I shake free of sarge and take a look for myself. “Goblins,” I say.

  “This shipping manifesto,” says Steel Jaws, holding up some papers he’s fished from the wreckage, “says there are 27,000 of them.”

  “Why are they all just lying there?” I ask, bending over one of the ultra goblins, almost twice as tall as me and banded with stylish yellow stripes. We’re almost nose to nose but he just stares ahead as if I’m not there.

  “You gotta turn them on,” Captain Bort murmurs, still in shock.

  I search for the button. It’s on the belly, just like mine. There’s an oval hole in the plastic where you can reach in and push it. So I do.

  “RRRRaaaaaugghh!” the ultra goblin roars, held completely immobile by the blister pack plastic.

  “Oi!” says Captain Bort. “Zip it.”

  The ultra goblin sees Bort’s an officer and shuts up.

  “You want to help convict a dangerous criminal, son?” the captain asks.

  “Nuh uh.”

  “Quick!” I say, shaking the box. “Come with us. There’s a humbug in trouble!”

  “Pah,” the ultra goblin says.

  Sir Terror-Knight advances, pushing Oooof and Odo over as he draws up, towering above even the ultra goblin. “You, worthless one, are conscripted into the army of Lord Thurgo, son of Claire, master of Castle Thurgo. Come with me. We have a safe to crack.”

  “Now that’s more like it!” shouts the ultra goblin. “Get me out of here!”

  And so in a matter of moments every able bodied robot and goblin is working hard, pressing on-buttons and tearing away at packaging. The plastic has a consistency similar to hardened steel, and even when you’re through that there are still countless little twists of wire to undo. Fortunately goblins have tough teeth, and robots have circular saws, and each new goblin set free immediately becomes a fresh set of teeth and claws to unbox yet more recruits.

  In the frantic mayhem of ripping boxes and torn cardboard I slip away. I run from there as fast as I can – bound for the Gutboat mansion. Fluffy’s all alone in there at the mercy of a monster and I can’t wait for twenty-seven thousand boxes to be opened.

  Running has never been my strong point but I power on relentlessly for several yards, growing slower and slower, panting, sweating, burping occasionally.

  “Want a lift?” it’s Burt, trotting by me on four day-glo pink hooves.

  “Do I ever?” I’ve never been so glad to see a little pony outside of a butcher’s shop before.

  Seconds later and I’m mounted, charging the length of Marbella Avenue at full gallop. “I’m coming, Fluffy! I’m coming!”

  Cantering down the drive we see no signs of the three visitors, Gutboat’s minions, or the silent-but-deadly dog. In all the excitement I forgot to ask Odo how he escaped the hound and whether he really flushed it down the loo. Gravel scatters beneath hooves as we veer onto the grass.

  Burt brings me across the lawns – still with the floodlights blazing across them and brighter than a film star’s smile, right up to the backdoor.

  “I’ll... uh, wait here,” he says. “I’m not good with stairs.”

  I give him a fist bump. Well, hoof bump... well. We say goodbye and I climb through the dog-flap.

  I last saw Fluffy being carried upstairs so I make for the flight of steps. It’s a lot easier to climb them this time. Firstly I’ve had a plenty of practice recently, and secondly no other goblins are trying to help me. I’ve a sneaking suspicion, looking back at it, that Oooof’s ‘helping’ was just hanging onto my ankle and letting me drag him up with me.

  The landing is covered in wet footprints, wet dog footprints... and a whining and scratching is coming from behind the door at the far end. The door to the bedroom with the safe is also closed. A door between those two stands a few inches open and I can hear raised voices.

  “You better own up you little maggots. I’m not a nice man, and Louie here is a very nasty man indeed. Tell me who put you up to this and you might just get to go home!” It sounds like Marcus Gutboat. “No way did you three just happen to ring my doorbell moments after the place got turned over. They wrecked everything... it’s clearly the work of professionals... mustard powder in the Jacuzzi... nasty!”

  I edge closer while they talk some more. I can see a sideboard, the back of a large man in a Hawaiian shirt, and part of a wall, lined with bookcases, all of them stuffed with big leather-bound books. “Smythe? What’s Vincent Smythe to me? Small fry, that’s what. I can buy and sell men like Smythe. He didn’t send you.”

  Closer... My heart skips three beats, then another one... then two more. There’s a bowl on the sideboard... and it’s full of humbugs! The man’s fat-fingered hand hovers over the bowl and picks one out.

  “Phew.” It’s not Fluffy. Still... poor humbug! And now I spot her, in with the rest, her coat almost gone. The monsters have pulled most of her fur out!

  “Enough of this! Louie, make them talk. Start with the girl, she looks like the ringleader.”

  The hand returns and takes another humbug. No! Not Fluffy! At the last second he chooses a different one. Clearly he’s saving the best ‘til last. Seconds later there’s an awful crunching noise. I want to be sick. So I throw up on the carpet. Princess Pukey would be proud of me.

  Sneaking in closer still I can see three men with their backs to me. All of them are huge. If I stood on tiptoes I could bite Gutboat’s ankle but that’s about it. One of the men is looming over three shorter persons. He’s pretty good at looming but Sergeant Yellow-Fang could still teach him a thing or two. It’s hard to tell much about the smaller
ones as they’re all bundled up in parker coats and the men are blocking my view... but if you made me guess I’d say they were children.

  “Last chance, Missy!” And the thug called Louie reaches out toward the middle of the three kids. She dodges back and I see her face. OMG (I got that off the telly – the G is for Goblins, I think)... it’s the Grimster! Uh oh! This Louie guy’s in trouble... she’s backing away into a corner pretending to be scared. From the stories I’ve heard about the Grimster this guy has about three seconds before something very... grim... happens to him.

  As Louie follows the Grimster into the corner, arms outstretched and a big stupid grin on his face, he reveals the other two captives. First I see Prince Stupid, looking upset and rather red in the face... then... LORD THURGO! By the wrathful crimson hue of his noble features and the sparkle in his eye I can tell Lord Thurgo has things under control. I relax. Lord Thurgo would never let anything bad happen to Fluffy. He must just be toying with Gutboat.

  The Grimster shrieks as Louie catches hold of her arm.

  “Leave her alone!” roars Lord Thurgo.

  Louie turns toward Lord Thurgo, then it’s his turn to shriek as the Grimster sinks her teeth into his knuckles. He shakes her off and raises his other hand in a fist but something hits the window. Then two more things hit it.

  “What the-” Marcus Gutboat, pauses with Fluffy inches from his mouth. “Kids throwing stuff at the house?”

  The other henchman, Al, goes and hauls open the window. “Oi!” he shouts.

  Three flying goblins crash straight into his face. He falls backward, trying to pull one of them out of his mouth. Seven more flap in before Louie can shut the window again.

  With the reinforcements careering wildly around the room, grabbing the men’s hair or biting their ears, Gutboat leads the retreat out onto the landing. I back out of the way and grab hold of the banister to stop myself falling through. Glancing over my shoulder I see an unbroken mass of goblins filling the hallway. They’re flowing up the stairs like a backwards waterfall. Ultra goblins hoisting up fierce-looking she-goblins who then haul them up in turn.

  “What the-” Gutboat and his cronies stand there for a second, mouths open, while the flying goblins bite them. More fliers are coming up over the balcony as I watch.

  “I-” Marcus doesn’t get past ‘I’ because a particularly fierce fly-boy hurls himself into his mouth. At that point Gutboat starts running for the far end of the landing, his two goons in hot pursuit. My victory shout dies on my lips, my victory dance goes undanced... I’ve noticed that Fluffy is still in Gutboat’s hand, stuck to the side of his thumb. She’s probably hanging there by her teeth, biting him. More bravery than sense sometimes that dog! But she’s in terrible danger. If they escape with her she’ll be eaten for sure!

  I give chase, sending up my best howl. It’s quite bloodthirsty but it does make my throat sore after. They run a bit faster than me since their legs are six times as long as my whole body, and also I’m not much of a runner. But with Fluffy’s life at stake something snaps inside me and I throw myself forward with all the speed that’s in my heart.

  “What you doing lying on the floor?” asks Burt as he comes level, he flicks his long pink and yellow tail. Goblins are flying over head, unscrewing light bulbs and peeling off wallpaper, the horde have just started flowing over the topmost step and an awful din is rising from downstairs.

  “Dunno,” I say. “Something snapped inside me...”

  “Get on!” says Burt. So I do.

  Mounted once more I gallop after the retreating Gutboat. Burt puts on a spectacular turn of speed but we’re a half second too late. All three men have escaped out the window and are lost in the night. By the sounds of it Louie and Al landed on something soft. By the sounds of it Gutboat didn’t. By the sounds of it the soft thing Louie and Al landed on was Gutboat.

  “Oh,” says Burt, looking up at the swishing curtains.

  “NooooooOOooooOooOOOooo!” I shout. I can’t believe it! “She was the only humbug I ever loved!” I howl.

  “Steady on,” says Burt. “There are other fish in the sea.” He pauses. “There are even other humbugs in the curtains.”

  I look up, wiping my eyes. “That’s not another humbug... THAT’S FLUFFY!” And it is. There, stuck to the curtain. “She must have clung on to the curtains when they were pushing through to escape!”

  I start climbing up to save her. By the time we get down Fluffy has a new coat, as thick as her old layer of refrigerator fluff but blue this time. Like the curtains.

  “Oh Fluffy!” I say. “You saved the day again! Chasing that evil crime-lord out of his mansion so our evil over-lord Thurgo can triumph.

  “That’s some dog you got there!” An ultra goblin towers over me, grinning appreciatively and toothily down at Fluffy.

  “Yessir!” I agree, and hurry off before he asks for a bite.

  With Fluffy safe under my arm I ride back to the master bedroom. Twenty-seven thousand goblins have made short work of the safe. Twenty-seven thousand goblins will make short work of anything! Except forming an orderly queue.

  They’ve dismantled the brickwork, hauled the safe out onto the floor, and chewed their way in through the side. It’s a good thing Lord Thurgo offers a great dental plan.

  The Grimster is reading aloud from some of the documents to Prince Stupid and Lord Thurgo whilst Power-Bot 9, Killerella, and Sir Terror-Knight watch on amid a sea of goblin green.

  “It’s all here!” she says. “Payments to Vincent Smythe, bribes to other council officials, lists of robberies and where the loot is stashed... everything.” She looks up. “The park is saved!”

  “Yay,” cry the goblins, although it’s clear that none of the new recruits know what a park is.

  “And our houses won’t get knocked down!” Prince Stupid punches the air.

  “Yay!” shout the goblins.

  “And... I’ve got a huge mansion to use as my evil over-lord base!” roars Lord Thurgo, breaking into the time-honoured in-your-face dance of evil.

  “Our base!” chorus the Grimster and Prince Stupid.

  “YAY!” scream the goblins, drowning out any other protests they might have had. Someone, Odo I think, starts to goblin-dance... which is rather like fighting but more elbows are involved and someone is more likely to lose an eye... and soon everyone is at it. Steel Jaws tunes in his chest radio and starts to blare out ‘Who let the dogs out.” And we party until dawn.

  Overheard by a goblin (in Marcus Gutboat’s former office)

  The Grimster: What are you doing on the phone? And what’s that in your hand?

  Lord Thurgo: Oh, hey Jane... It’s Gutboat’s credit card. I making a donation to World Peace. I’ve just made one to the benevolent fund for retired evil geniuses. Then I’m going to order some new curtains, and unicorns for the lawn...

  The Grimster: No really.

  Lord Thurgo: All right, all right – I’m ordering upgrades and power-suits from Ye Olde Goblin Shop. Also I’ve instructed Gutboat’s submarine to be brought upriver and made ready... oh, and paid for a ton of chocolate to be unloaded in the school playground.

  Prince Stupid: School! I forgot all about school! We better go... it’s nearly morning. Dad’ll be up soon and-

  Lord Thurgo: Rats! You’re right. Better run!