In no time, metallic objects of all kinds advance ominously towards the ship and threaten to pile up in front of Chloroph’s hook aperture as they become stuck to the magnet and to each other, such is the strength of the pull.

“Some trick!” CollectOrus exclaims, “nothing new, what do you—”

But this rubbish collector’s last words are smothered by the sudden dim arising from the gathering of boxes that have appeared drawn from behind the now remote orange mist hiding RythmaRymosthesis.

“We could have used this before,” the Captain says, “why didn’t you—”

The Captain’s words disappear too, stopped in their track this time as Labaguette has re-emerged:

“ATTENTION, J’ARRIIIIIIIIIVE,” he warns as best as he can, crash landing against an ancient yellow toaster.”

“I’ll be—”

Chloroph’s words, in turn, are silenced:

“You’ve given me another bloody headache, you lot!” the King exclaims, “couldn’t you have waited until you were certain the crown was off my head?”


“What have you done?” the Captain asks, “is the entire planet being pulled here?”

“If its chore is made of metal, it could be that—”

“Shut your gob!” Labaguette orders, “there’s not time, Spinostress, the Policeman and the remainder of RythmaRymosthesis will follow soon.”

“How do you know?” Chloroph asks.

“He knows,” Birdseye says, “we must hide or death will be upon us.”

“It’s only Spinostress and her lot,” the Captain mutters, “we’ll come to no harm, I know how to handle them and that type of situation.”

“There’s an entire planet in their tow.  Hiding is our only escape,” Birdseye insists.

To be continued…


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