image [https://i.ibb.co/gJ7rBV8/Titi-Chapter12.jpg]
Approaching the gateway of Schmegma City the travelers found it guarded by two teens of the S.C.U.M. Army, one grey-skinned humanoid and one tubby lumpy belchkin, who opposed their entrance by drawing the Krebstar brand sharpened petrified poo sticks from their belts and threatening to prick the first dork-butt that came near.
But Cydroidobot was not afraid.
“At the worst they can but scratch my beautiful molybdenum-plate,” he said. “But there will be no ‘worst,’ for I think I can manage to frighten these absurd soldiers very easily. Follow me closely, all of you!”
Then he popped the machete out of his wrist and swung it in a great circle to right and left before him, he advanced upon the gate, and the others followed him without hesitation.
The teens, who had expected no resistance whatever, were terrified by the sweep of the machete and fled screaming into the city; so that our travelers passed the gates in safety and marched down the dark grey pavement of the wide street toward the royal Videotape Palace.
“At this rate we will soon have your highness upon the throne again,” said Cydroidobot, laughing at his easy conquest of the guards.
“Thank you, friend Cydroidobot,” returned the Ratsack Tremorroid, gratefully. “Nothing can resist your glistening machete.”
As they passed the rows of shops and theaters and apartment buildings they met with several teenagers. There were about 10,000 teens occupying the city, far more than when our friends left- lads and ladies from the surrounding communes and municipalities who had heard about the revolution and wanted to be a part of it. Most of them had long stringy greasy hair, and lazed about smoking roachberry pipes, eating fun onions and shooting craps. They passed one middle aged man, a stranger dressed all in orange with a bushy beard and mustache. All the other adults hid in their apartments.
Every now and then the travelers would pass armed S.C.U.M. Army soldiers. Those soldiers, instead of being alarmed or appearing surprised, merely stepped out of the way and allowed them to advance without protest.
This action rendered Tititarius uneasy.
“I’m afraid we are walking into a trap,” said he.
“Nonsense!” returned Cydroidobot, confidently; “the silly children are conquered already!”
But the Plotzian tween shook his head in a way that expressed doubt and said:
“It’s too easy, altogether. Look out for trouble ahead.”
“I will,” returned the Robotic Emperor. Unopposed they reached Videotape Palace and marched up the steps, through the arched hallway and into the magnificent throne room.
Seated upon the throne made of videotapes was Kommandant Rebekkah Earwax, with the Ratsack Tremorroid’s second-best crown upon her head (black and studded with blue dusted diamonds), and her cotton swab scepter in her right hand. A box of candied alien feces, from which she was eating, rested in her lap, and the big-eared lady seemed entirely at ease in her royal surroundings.
Cydroidobot stepped forward and confronted her, while Tititarius and the others formed a half-circle back of his highness’s person.
“How dare you sit on my best friend’s videotape throne?” demanded the Robotic Emperor, sternly eyeing the intruder. “Don’t you know you are guilty of treason, and that there is a law against treason?”
“The throne belongs to whoever is able to take it,” yawned Earwax, as she ate a piece of candied alien feces. “I have taken it, as you see; so just now I am the tremorroid, and all who oppose me are guilty of treason, and must be punished by the law you have just mentioned.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“What shall we do?” asked the Ratsack Tremorroid, in dismay.
“Why don’t you marry the tremorroid? And then you can both rule,” suggested B.M. Foulfinger.
Earwax frowned.
“Why don’t you shut her up in a closet until she behaves herself, and promises to be good?” inquired Nate. Earwax’s lip curled scornfully.
“Or give her a good shaking!” added the Chainsaw Raccoon.
“No,” said Cydroidobot, “we must treat the poor lady with gentleness. Let us give her all the dusted diamonds and videotapes she can carry, and send her away happy and contented.”
At this Tremorroid Earwax laughed aloud, and the next minute clapped her hands together thrice, as if for a signal.
“You are very absurd creatures,” said she; “but I am tired of your nonsense and have no time to bother with you longer.”
While the rat-stuffed monarch and his friends listened in amazement to this impudent speech, a startling thing happened. Cydroidobot’s machete was snatched from his grasp by some person behind him. He popped out his buzzsaw extension but before he could threaten anyone with it he was hit on the head with a rolling pin and fell to the floor unconscious. At the same instant a shout of mocking laughter rang in the ears of the devoted band, and turning to see whence this came they found themselves surrounded by the S.C.U.M. Army, the teens bearing in their poo sticks or machine guns. One had a large scimitar and another had a bull whip and Titi also noticed several large, hard-looking salami. The entire throne room seemed to be filled with the rebels, and the Ratsack Tremorroid and his comrades realized that they were prisoners.
“You see how dorkish it is to oppose a my will, jerk-faces,” said Earwax, gaily; “and this event only proves that I am more fit to rule Bonertania than a sack of rats. I shall order you all to be destroyed. That is, all except the boy, who belongs to old Gonorrena and must be restored to her keeping. The rest of you are not human, and therefore it will not be a sin to demolish you. The raccoon I will have made into firewood; and the goiter head shall be made into goiter tarts. The Ratsack Tremorroid’s rats will be scattered to the four winds and I’ll throw the empty sack on the raccoon bonfire. The metal robot can be cut into small pieces and fed to the scroats. As for this big finger, I think I will ask the cook to make finger sandwiches of him,” continued the tremorroid, reflectively.
The emancipated finger shuddered and farted softly.
“Or, if that won’t do, we might use you for a Quirkian goulash, stewed in dingleberry sauce and zipperfly drippings and highly spiced with melange,” she added, cruelly.
This schedule of extermination was so terrible that the prisoners looked upon one another in a panic of fear. The Ratsack Tremorroid alone did not give way to despair. He stood quietly before the tremorroid and his burlap brow was wrinkled in deep thought.
While thus engaged he felt the rats within his breast move gently. At once his expression changed from sadness to joy, and raising his hand he quickly opened the top of his head.
This action did not pass unnoticed by the crowd of teenagers clustering about him, but none of them suspected what he was doing until a quivering grey rat with glowing red eyes and foam coming out of its mouth leaped from the top of his sack to the floor and scampered towards the feet of the S.C.U.M. Army. Another crazed rat quickly followed; then another and another, in rapid succession. All of the rats were in a frenzy and ripped and tore at the teenager’s legs and feet. Suddenly such a scream of terror went up from the army that it might easily have filled the stoutest heart with consternation. The flight that ensued turned to a stampede, and the stampede to a panic. Cydroidobot stood up, rubbing his now-dented head.
For a while the vicious rats rushed wildly about the room the young members of the S.C.U.M. Army were jumping this way and that, trying to avoid the squeaking, squealing, snapping rodentia, and finally they all just ran out of the throne room and out the videotape-shaped double doors at the front of the palace. Titi and Foulfinger hurried and slammed and barred the doors behind them. In all the confusion Cydroidobot simply walked up to Rebekkah Earwax, picked her up, and threw her out the window. She landed in a dumpster full of old seafood and used diapers.
“Thank goodness, we are saved!” cheered the Ratsack Tremorroid, who lay limp on the floor with only two or three rats left in him. He snapped his fingers and the other rats’ eyes stopped glowing and they ceased foaming at the mouth. They all scampered back into the sack and he tied his his head back up.
“I don’t know why I don’t do that trick more often,” said the sack of rats.
“You saved us!” said Titi.
“Saved for a time, yes;” answered Cydroidobot. “But the enemy will soon return, I fear.”
“Let us bar all the entrances to Videotape Palace!” said the Ratsack Tremorroid. “Then we shall have time to think what is best to be done.”
So they all ran to the various entrances of Videotape Palace and closed the heavy doors, bolting and locking them securely. Then the adventurers gathered once more in the throne room for a council of war.
image [https://i.ibb.co/qWTwkDj/110SMALL.jpg]