Mr Plonka stared at him for a long, long time then said, “Any other questions? No? Good! Onwards!”
He strode over to the first printer, kicking over a few garbage cans as he passed. Spike ran on behind.
“I mean - Is it safe? Has it been tested? Has it been debugged?”
“Of course not,” said Plonka, “Where would be the fun in that?”
“Is this guy for real?” said Spike Peecee and started banging the side of the scanner.
“Please don’t do that. It’s still in the early stages!” said Plonka.
Spike Peecee stomped over to Mr Plonka and said, “I demand proof!”
“Oh, very well!” said Mr Plonka and put his hand in his armpit. The Grumpy Trumpers looked up from their coffee break and shrugged. Plonka made a rude face and even ruder gesture and they slowly sauntered over.
“What do you *$+##%€^- well want, Plonk face?”
“Internet Grot Demonstration Number One!” ordered Mr Plonka.
“What? Now?” yawned a Grumpy Trumper.
“Yes! Now!”
The Grumpy Trumpers muttered at each other and dragged in a garbage can full of gross and smelly waste. They yanked it to the top of the scanner and emptied the rancid rubbish all over the scanner plate then they closed the lid and sat on it. It squelched.
“I’m getting all this on my ePad!” said Spike, pointing his tablet all over the place.
“Perfect!” said Plonka, “You can put it on the internet. It might go fungal!”
“Don’t you mean viral?”
“I know what I mean!” chirped Mr Plonka, “Now all we have to do is press this Big Red Button...”
“I'll do it!” interrupted Spike Peecee and filmed himself pushing Mr Plonka’s hand out of the way and pressing the button.
The scanner shook.
Then it shivered.
Then it rumbled.
Then it grumbled.
Then it shuddered and trembled and let out a painful squeal.
Then there was a rude sound.
“Ah!” said Mr Plonka, swirling his cane in the air joyfully, “That’s the All Clear Burp!”
“Let me see! Let me see!” demanded Spike Peecee and the Grumpy Trumpers opened the lid to show there was absolutely nothing there.
“Over here!” shouted Mr Plonka who’d crossed to the Second Giant Printer and beckoned the visitors over, “Listen!”
There was a gurgling and a gargling. Then there was a bubbling and a babbling, a swishing and a swoshing and a sloshing and sploshing. Suddenly, gallons of foul filth and gross garbage came trickling and oozing down the sides of the printer. And it all formed a huge, smelly, steaming, brown puddle around everyone's feet. The stench was hideous. Mr Plonka inhaled deeply and said,
“It’s scumpiddlinoxious!”
* * *
1 Not computer mice. Just mice.
THE SECOND GIANT PRINTER
“In the fullness of grotty time,” said Plonka, “Every smelly, snotty thing will be scannable and transferable thanks to the wonders of Whi-ffi but we are still in the very early stages at the…”
“Scan my gecko!” Spike Peecee suddenly shouted.
“Don't be silly, dear,” said his mother from the ePad, “Mr Plonka can’t scan your gecko. Besides, he’s in his cage back home!”
“No, he’s not!” Spike rummaged in his jacket and pulled out a confused-looking lizard. The creature quickly surveyed the situation, whipped his tongue in the air to sense predators, tasted Mr Plonka’s pong, squealed and scurried back in Spike’s jacket.
“It’s okay, Justin, Plonka’s cool.” Justin re-appeared, suspiciously and eyed Mr Plonka up and down.
“Scan it, Plonka, scan it!”
“Well, I'm not sure I should….”
“Scan it!”
“Much as I would love to scan your gecko, I’m afraid the algorithmic disconnection of the maximum LED density is incompatible with the digitalisation of the device drive compression.”
Plonka smiled and his one tooth twinkled smugly.
“You’re talking gunk!” said Spike.
“I never talk anything else. I’m fluent in Gunk, Kak, Junk and Offal Waffle.”
“Okay, I’ll do it myself! Hold my parents!”
Spike handed his ePad to Grandpop Fred, who held it like a tray of very full drinks, and galloped over to the first Giant Printer. He clambered and climbed up the greasy ladder and carefully placed Justin on the scanner plate.
“No, no, do stop!” said Plonka, casually plucking some hairs from his ear.
“Now press the button!” yelled Spike.
The Peecees looked out of the ePad at Grandpop Fred who looked at Marley who looked at Mr Plonka. No one wanted to press the button and scan the gecko.
“Okay, okay, I’ll do that myself, too!”
And they all came over to get a closer look. Spike leaned over the side of the scanner just close enough to almost touch the button when suddenly…
“Arggghhh!”
Whether the mouldy, curdled cream Spike slipped on was there by accident or deliberately placed is something we shall never know, but Mr Plonka did wink and give a big thumbs-up to a Grumpy Trumper as Spike clattered face first onto the scanner plate with a squelchy splat. Justin leaped to freedom and Marley watched it scuttle away under a table.
“I slipped!” groaned Spike from the scanning plate.
“Oops! So did I!” said Mr Plonka and jabbed the Big Red Button with his elbow. The scanner, once again, shook and shivered and rumbled and grumbled. There was a flash and a crash and deafening crack of electric sparks.
Fizzzzz!!
Whizzz!!
Plizzz!!
Nizzz!!!
Then there was silence.
“This is terrible!” shrieked Mrs Peecee from the ePad.
“Oh, it’s nothing we can’t fix. Perhaps it just needs new batteries or ...”
“My son, I meant, not the printer!”
“Oh, him? He'll be wafting through the ether as we speak. That's probably part of him there!”
Mr Plonka stabbed the air with his cane and they heard a very, very tiny, “Ouch!”
“No one breathe in!” ordered Mr Plonka, “You don't want to inhale a limb!”
They all ran over to the Giant Printer and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The Grumpy Trumpers watched disinterestedly and slurped their milk shakes.
“Why is it taking so long?” squealed Mrs Peecee.
“I think it’s buffering.”
The Second Giant Printer whizzed and whirled, hiccupped and coughed but nothing came out.
“Nothing’s coming out, Plonka!” shouted Mrs Peecee.
“I know, I know - do I look stupid? Don’t answer that! Just be patient!”
Then they heard a gurgling and a gargling. Then a bubbling and a babbling, a swishing and a swoshing and a sloshing and sploshing. And once again gallons of foul filth and watery waste came dribbling and dripping down the sides of the printer and if you listened carefully you could hear…
“Mummmmmmmmyyyyyyyy!”
“You turned my son to grot!” screamed Mr Peecee, “What are we going to do??”
“Don’t panic! We have a mop!”
“You can’t mop up my son!”
“It’s the only way. The hoover is not working!”
On Plonka’s command the Grumpy Trumpers reluctantly set about mopping up every dribbly, drippy bit of Spike Peecee and squeezing him drop by drop into a bucket. When they had finished they gazed at the remnants and waved the ePad over it so the Peecees could see.
“All his bits are in the wrong place!”
“Try stirring him!” suggested Mr Plonka to a Grumpy Trumper.
“I don’t wanna be stirred!” came a small, bubbling voice from the bucket.
Mr Plonka sighed. “Empty him into something he can be carried home in. There’s about three pints of small boy there, try not to
spill any!”
A Grumpy Trumper slipped the ePad under his arm, another grabbed the bucket and they wandered away.
“You’re dribbling him!” screamed Mrs Peecee as they disappeared through a door.
THE GREAT SEE-THRU LOO, AGAIN
Marley looked about the empty internet cafe and said, “There’s only me left!”
“And me!” said Grandpop Fred.
“Oh and him,” said Marley.
Mr Plonka turned around with a squeak of his heels, coughed, hiccupped, picked something out of his teeth and said,
“Just one left? Only one? And it’s you?”
“Yes, it’s me!”
“And do you know what that means, Marley?”
“Nope.”
“You really are very dim, aren’t you? It means you are the winner!”
Marley gave his grandfather a crafty wink. Grandpop Fred winked back not entirely sure why he was winking at all.
Plonka grabbed Marley’s hand and pumped it wildly. “Congratulations! Felicitations! Compliments! Good Job! Excellent! Spot on! First class! Terrific! Awesome! Sensational! Tremendous! Outstanding! Have some soil!”
“What did I win?” asked Marley taking the soil and handing it to Grandpop Fred who put it in his pocket gratefully.
“All will be revealed momentarily! Let’s crack on! So much to do, so much to do! Arrangements to arrange, announcements to announce, statements to state, messages to mess! Come with me!”
Marley and Grandpop Fred followed Plonka not knowing where they were going or what they were going to do when they got there, but they knew they had won something and whatever it was they could probably sell it on iBay.
They walked two paces when Mr Plonka suddenly yelped,
“Stop!”
He stabbed the air with his cane and nothing happened.
“Oh, no, not now! We’re just getting to the exciting part!” He stabbed the air again and there was a familiar scraping and rasping sound and the big, brown door of the Great See-Thru Loo appeared once more.
“All aboard for one final time!”
They entered the Loo and it smelled ten times worse than before.
“I see no one’s lifted a finger since last time!” said Plonka, “Good work!”
He jabbed a small piece of bubblegum with his finger and the Loo started to judder. “I've waited a long time to press that particular piece of gum, Marley!”
“Why?”
“You’ll see, Marley, you’ll see!”
Once again the Great See-Thru Loo jerked with a groan and a growl. Then it swooped and swerved and dipped and dived. It looped the loop and Mr Plonka proudly shouted, “100% Boff power!” as they crashed about inside.
Up, up, up they went. Flashing past offices, rooms and workshops.
“Quicker! Quicker! Quicker!” shouted Mr Plonka, banging the toilet seat with his cane.
The Loo started to thunder and shake and the G-force tugged at everyone’s face until they looked like melting plastic.
Then the See-Thru Loo smashed through the roof of Billy Plonka’s Grot Laboratory like a catapulted mole!
CRASH!!!
The laboratory roof splintered into a trillion pieces and Marley dropped to the floor, swished away some goo and gazed down at the laboratory far, far below them.
He could see the other visitors slowly leaving by the fire exit.
“Look there’s Orson Ploop. What a loser!” he shouted, tapping at the floor, “There’s Viola Mudguard - hey, I think she’s still burping! And what’s that hanging from Victoria Scab’s nose? They burst her bubbles! Look! Spike Peecee is being carried home in a used milk carton. Wicked!”
“I know. Such a shame. They were all lovely children! Not!” said Mr Plonka and giggled so much he belched. “I hated each and every one of them!” Then he sneezed into his hand and said, “High five?”
“No thanks!” said Marley.
Mr Plonka shrugged, wiped his palm on his coat and then said, “Marley, we need to talk.”
Grandpop Fred winked at his grandson. Something big was about to happen.
“I love my laboratory - do you love it, Marley?”
“It’s okay, I guess,” said Marley.
Grandpop Fred elbowed his grandson in the side.
“I mean, yes, I like it!”
“Well, you see Marley, this whole tour was a scam, a scheme, a con, a little grotty hoax of my own concoction!”
Mr Plonka removed his top hat and three brown moths fluttered out gasping for air.
“I wanted to find someone. Someone special!”
He scratched his hair and dandruff cascaded down his collar.
“I'm getting old, Marley. It's time I retired. I'm starting to dribble and make smells and I sometimes wet the bed. And I want to have time to enjoy that sort of thing.”
He looked wistfully down at his grotty factory and the other children stumbling towards the gates with their parents.
“My mind is starting to go, too, Marley. Sometimes I repeat myself without realising it and sometimes I repeat myself without realising it. I want someone honest and caring to take over.”
“Then why are you asking me?”
Grandpop Fred elbowed his grandson again.
“I mean, sure, great - What’s the catch?” said Marley.
“No catch, Marley. Some are born grotty, some achieve grottiness and some have grottiness thrust upon them. Marley, I’m thrusting this entire laboratory on you. It’s yours. You are the new Billy Plonka!”
“So?” said Marley.
Grandpop Fred elbowed him for a third time, Marley elbowed him back and before it could become a full grown scuffle Marley said, “Thanks!”
Mr Plonka jabbed another piece of gum and smiled his one-tooth smile.
MARLEY SUCKETT’S GROT LABORATORY
The Great See-Thru Loo crashed through a window in the laboratory and they stepped out into Mr Plonka’s office, which was the dirtiest, messiest, scummiest office ever. I mean ever. Broken filing cabinets sat decaying in a corner with stained papers strewn all over. A mouldy desk sat stinking in a dark corner and black ink drizzled down the sides. A calendar dangled from the wall as if it was about to fall and the floor was plastered with discarded Post-Me notes™ .
“It’s taken me years to get it just the way I like it,” said Plonka, lovingly caressing some mould. He snatched open a cabinet drawer, wafted away a cloud of soot and some bewildered toads and pulled out a thick, tatty wodge of papers.
“To ensure all is above-board, legal and binding, we need to do some paper work.”
He pulled a pen for his pocket and sniffed it. “Hmm, another one of my inventions. Stinky Ink!”
He handed the pen to Marley and pointed at several different pieces of paper at the same time.
“Sign here, here, here and especially here!”
Marley and Grandpop Fred couldn't believe their luck - a building this size was worth millions!
“Countersign here, here, here and especially here!”
Marley and Grandpop Fred signed everything in front of them as Mr Plonka started banging things on his cluttered desk. “Keys and keys for the key cupboard and keys for the room where the key cupboard is kept and keys for the corridor of the room where the key cupboard is kept. Security swipe cards, security passwords, security passcodes. ID cards, ID lanyards, something with a bit of gravy on it and the Unwelcome Mat!”
He placed his hand under his armpit and summoned a gaggle of Grumpy Trumpers.
“What do you #%€^-*$+# want now?” griped one.
“I need an impression of his nose for the PlonkaNoseScan™ and an impression of his ear for PlonkaEarScan™ - then measure him for his uniform!”
The Grumpy Trumpers leaped on Marley and a few things clattered from the desk as they wrestled him to the ground.
“Uniform?” asked Marley, as something squidgy was placed on his nose.
“Indeed. Just like mine, only yours will be much, much grottie
r. Lucky you!”
Plonka flopped in his chair and smiled his one-tooth smile.
“Any questions? No? Good! Don't forget to feed the eels every Thursday!”
As the Grumpy Trumper finished measuring Marley, Plonka slipped his hand under his armpit and pumped frantically. The face of every single other Grumpy Trumper in the entire laboratory appeared at the doorway.
“Is it time?” they chorused.
“Yes,” said Mr Plonka, snorting loudly, “It's time!”
The Grumpy Trumpers cheered loudly then did something Marley and Grandpop Fred had never seen them do before. They smiled! Then they grabbed Mr Plonka and carried him head high out of the room cheering as they went.
“Farewell, Marley, farewell!” was all they heard as Billy Plonka disappeared through the door except for the “Owww!” when he banged his head.
~~~
Marley rubbed his hands then jumped into Mr Plonka’s big, brown chair, scraped off a bit of mould, wiped down a stain and leaned back with his hands behind his head.
“So I think we should sell this place then split the money. What do you say? What are we going to spend the money on?” he asked.
Grandpop Fred’s eyes grew wide and in one fast, furiously frantic and manically mad speech he said,
“Limousineyachtmansiongoldhatgoldtrousersgoldpantsaparrotanothermansionthirteenmotorbikesrollsroycejacuzzianotherjacuzzichampagnebythebucketfuljetplanepilotchaffeurbutlerhandmaidfootmaidlegmaidsnookertablepooltabletabletableswimmingpoolwithachuteswimmingpoolwithoutachutesomenicecheeseabigbathwithgoldtapsanironagoldenpenguin...”
Marley chortled loudly and said, “We can have it all!”
Then they heard a ringing.
It was a telephone.
“Sounds like our first order!” Marley started rummaging through the grotty clutter and rancid rubbish and found the phone. He grabbed it, wiped off some slime and held it to his ear.
“Marley Suckett’s Grot Laboratory! How much grot would you like?”
“Oh, hello, Marley, it's Billy Plonka here! There's just one tiny-weeny thing I forgot to mention…”
Marley sat up and listened closely. What was all this about?
New Title 1 Page 9
