Chapter 10
Spice invader
It was too late. Gav’s mission was a failure. The Muntoid warrior had tracked him down, would now overpower him and take the Seeds of Hopsonica.
Or so it seemed, apart from one teeny tiny detail. The Muntoid Warrior had no idea where he was.
He also didn’t know why these humans were staring at him like he’d just farted in an elevator. He’d got so lost searching for the Seeds of Hopsonica, and it had been a few days since his last dose of oonst dust, so he was in rough shape.
What he did know was that he needed to pee, really badly. He’d ducked into some bushes, and stumbled upon this underground bunker-lab set up - surely they’d have a lavatory in the laboratory, right? The fuzzy-buzzy-locator thingy on his belt had been vibrating like an epileptic hummingbird for the last half an hour and was causing havoc with his megabladder. Plus! You know, maybe someone here had some oonst dust. If the Muntoid could have just a quick toot, he’d be back on track and remember why he was here, what his mission was, and where he’d left his spaceship.
And then he saw them… the seeds - glowing majestically in the corner of the laboratory. So, that’s why his pants had vibrated so much for the last thirty minutes!
Side note: Oonst dust is just dried ginger powder. Nice to have in a cake and pretty much harmless on earth. But on the planet Oonst, it’s like rubbing energy drinks in your eyeballs. A powerful stimulant that gives Muntoids the ability to party for weeks on end. Without his ginger snoot root, this particular Spice Invader developed a hair-trigger temper, especially after searching through towns like Huntly and Darfield and Hoki-bloody-Tika for the seeds without any oonst dust… it waS eNOugh TO SEnd yOU ALIttle BIT CRaaaAZZZZzzY!
The Muntoid pulled a giant silver gun from a fold in his skin; the fold could have been a pocket or something else; you don’t want to think about it too much because… ew.
‘GIVE ME THE SEEDS OR I SILENCE THIS ENTIRE PLANET!’ screamed the Muntoid, sounding like a soccer Mom who’d just realised she’d left the halftime orange slices in the fridge, and it was too late to turn back.
‘Oh no!’ squeaked Gav using Stu’s vocal cords like a violin bow dragged across uncooked pasta. ‘He’s got The Peacemaker!’
The Peacemaker, the most powerful sonic weapon in the galaxy was in the hands of an angry ginger snorter who hadn’t slept for days. Who’s dumb idea was it to let that happen? Perhaps the lazy writer of this story looking for a way to up the stakes quickly.
At that moment, everyone in this story, the Doc, Bitta, Gav, Stu, the writer and even The Muntoid, whose name was Daryl, felt like a drink. OK, everyone felt like a drink apart from The Muntoid who just needed to pee. And to have some oonst dust. And to maybe shoot someone.