Then, as Spinostress and Colonel Loga’s approach is about to irredeemably affect them all for the worse, the preying cosmic winds exert their pull against all creatures’ and objects’ will towards the open bag and soon, Spinostress, Colonel Loga along with their policemen and boxes disintegrate into infinitely insignificant particles of dust that vanish inside the bin bag.  Following at a short distance behind them, the colossal RythmaRymosthesis rapidly dwindles and each and every particle of its grounds, giant snake-worms, castles, inhabitants (and this includes its Rum River), barrels and volcanoes dissolve, sucked into a small hungry rubbish bag with a big mouth.

“ON MY COMMAND, RELEASE THE ROPES!” CollectOrus orders and as the ropes come back flapping, untamed, CollectOrus and Chloroph seal the bag with a professional knot before releasing it, letting the indomitable magnet’s pull fulfil its purpose.

The three monkeys, swiftly catch the loose ropes, throw them towards the Insatiable Princess to stir it from the remnants of a pathway that just saw a whole world sucked into a bin bag before she too turns to dust into a somewhere that is nowhere.

There, flying books and pages are dispersing all around as they fall into oblivion or onto the Insatiable Princess.

“Have I truly escaped?” Labaguette enquires, shivering.

“You’ll be all right.” Birdseye says.

“Have WE truly escaped?” the Captain insists, examining his ship, ensuring this is the Insatiable Princess and not some reconstituted preparation born out of Chlroph’s concoctions.

“Is this it?” the King asks, “back to square one with more pages to read.  Looks like pages from the Planet of Books have been allocated the garbage status.”

To be continued…



“Your independence or the lack of direction and slavery?”

“Get your feathers plucked and I won’t try to do it myself!” the Captain commands.

“What is the point?” the King asks pointing at the imminent danger of the humongous approaching planet.

There, three monkeys weave white ropes of a kind around the edge of a bin bag as a plant man and a dirt collecting creature hold it wide open.  Then, the monkeys stretch the rope as far as the three corners of this Universe (some Universes are triangular in shape), extending the opening of the bag much like a gigantic mouth ready to suck all that comes onto its path.

“This can’t possibly work,” the Captain mutters.

Just then, a flock of books flying past with loose pages in their billions join the mounds of rubbish being pulled by a magnet, unable to discriminate between that pull and that of a gapping black hole opened by the bin bag.

Loose pages hit them in the face.

“AIE, AIE, AIE!” Labaguette cries as Birdseye is pulling the sensitive wings feathers where his GPS and sensors are located.

“Salvage what you can from the books,” Birdseye says.

“Save me, save my ship,” the Captain says looking desperately for a place to hide.

“STEP BACK AND STAY BEHIND US!” CollectOrus yells, as the winds of wrath are now blowing the strength and will from all who come onto their path.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU FOOLS?” the Captain yells back, in a state of confusion.

“The bag is diagonally perpendicular to the magnet,” Birdseye says, “in the exact position.”

SHUUUUUUT UUUUUUP!” the two leading creatures scream struggling to hold the bag, as if a whole world could be shoved inside it.

To be continued…


Then, the bag begins to roll and shake and a deafening wild winds can be heard through and through.  All roll onto each other, mere creatures in a tumbler they’ve no control of.

“Destination reached,” CollectOrus says, opening the bag, “prepare yourselves!”

“Where are you Labaguette?” the Captain asks, his hands fumbling in the dark to squeeze his bird’s neck once and for all.  But Chloroph pulls a bag’s string and in a second, they find themselves out, floating in space and resisting the wind, with CollectOrus and Chloroph shoving them all aside, insisting for room and concentration.

All around, the junk has multiplied to unbelievable levels of dirt and, facing them, a planet is threatening to suck them in on its pathway, with Spinostress, Colonel Loga and many a policeman and a box preceding their steps, leading the way.  Already, the Captain can see Spinostress’s furious eyes searching for his soul, wanting nothing more than revenge and claiming Labaguette as hers once more.

“Where’s the Insatiable Princess?” the Captain asks.

“What can’t be seen might as well be,” Birdseye maintains.

“Give up the pretentious riddles, will ya?” the Captain adds, “where is she?”

“Behind RythmaRymosthesis, trying as hard as she can to shield herself from the wind and hoping for a last minute miracle.”

“We’re no better off than a second earlier,” the King remarks.

“I wanna live,” Labaguette says.

“Let me pluck your feathers,” Birdseye says, “it’s the only way.”

“It could kill me,” Labaguette says.

“You only need humility.  Come if you want to live, bird,” Birdseye insists.

“I will lose all sense of direction.”

To be continued…


“Where is this leading?” the Captain asks.”

“You chose to follow,” the King answers.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have,” CollectOrus adds.

“Maybe you should have stayed there,” Chloroph emphasises.

“You’ve come a long way,” CollectOrus insists.

“Some way,” Chloroph says.

“Wait a minute, I—” the Captain tries.

“—You wouldn’t be here now,” CollectOrus continues, “I’m certain.”

“It’s a definite,” Chloroph says.

“You’d be nothing,” CollectOrus says.

“Nothing at all,” Chloroph says.

“I AM NOTHING NOW,” the Captain thunders, “A MERE PARTICLE OF JUNK AIN’T I?” he continues as his face turns into an indigo tempest.

“There might still be time,” Labaguette ventures, “do you still wish to—”

“—Dumb!” the Captain specifies, “you dumb bird of mine!  I will disown you when I get the chance.  Where are we headed?”

“Won’t tell ya,” Labaguette says, “too dumb and I don’t belong to—”

“—Back where we came from,” CollectOrus says.

“Huh?” a shocked Captain asks.

“Back to the past,” Chloroph explains.

“Can’t do this, it—”

“—You’re damned Beloved!” Labaguette says, “before she got pulled by the magnet and—”

The Captain once more demonstrates his skills and the tip of his sword’s blade threatens to pierce Labaguette’s neck.

“No need to sweat, Captain.  Do it now, don’t make me wait.”

“Wait!” Birdseye interrupts.

“Don’t worry,” Labaguette says, “we’re used to this aren’t we Captain?”

Then, the bag begins to roll, turn and shake and they hear a chaotic dim: that of a universe out of control.  All roll and tumble onto each other, mere creatures in a tumbler they’ve no control of.

To be continued…


All look at him again, an air of anxious uncertainty etched on their faces.  The Captain isn’t with it.

“What?” he asks, “you said—”

“—didn’t say nothing,” CollectOrus adds.


“—He didn’t say nothing,” Labaguette insists, his inner parrot shining through.

“Shut your gob Labaguette!” the Captain says, “and you dirt bag makers,” he continues looking alternatively inside CollectOrus and Chloroph’s eyes’ depths, “you boasted that you had the most technological advance rubbish bag there is, that any thought particle could be retrieved over anything and be reconstituted, and last but not least, that you’d be able to bring my ship back intact.  You’ve been lying through each of your dirty pores, you and your bungled Gucci bag crap.”

“I’ve no skin,” remarks CollectOrus, displaying his transparent half-hand, half-claw.

“It figures.”

“What’cha made of?” Labaguette asks.

“I never lie,” CollectOrus says, “I said I could duplicate your ship, not re-create it.”

“I never lie,” Chloroph adds, “I merely try my best experimenting at infusing belief and self-empowerment in all that I do.”

“Too much talk,” the King continues, “do what must be done!”

As the forces of universes have it and for once, a King’s command appears to be heard.  With Collectorus on one side of the bag and Chloroph holding the other side, the King orders:


“BUT—” the Captain insists.

“—There’s no ‘but’, JUMP!”

Labaguette flies in head first, the three monkeys following next and leading them all into the golden darkness of the latest model of a bin bag that enlarges as they enter it.

To be continued…


“What have you done Captain!” the King exclaims.

“Yeah, Capitaine, what have you done?” Labaguette adds.

“Why are you smiling?” Captain Traumatic wonders aloud, as Birdseye’s face is beaming with cannot be mistake for anything else but joy and the monkeys are dancing around as if all there was to do in the Universe was to live now.

“There’s a saying,” Birdseye says, “Swing your sword on poured Rum and thou shalt have.”

“Have what?” Labaguette inquires.

“Did you say this to cheer us up?” the King asks.

“If there is any truth in it,” the Captain says, “why not mention it earlier.  What do you mean?”

“Tis an old saying,” Birdseye answers, “to do with a legend on RythmaRymosthesis.  It goes back to the days when the RumRiver was more myth than reality.  Remember your sword Captain?  The liberation and the freedom?”

“I don’t understand.  How can my sword be used now?”

“Gimme your sword!” CollectOrus orders the Captain as he opens the first bag.


“I’ll pour the Rum!” Labaguette says, flying excitedly, knowing what Birdseye knows, “c’mon Captain, wield your sword over this damned bag now!”

There, a trusting pirate releases his anger and frustrations through the wielding of his sword over a rum soaked bag that fizzles, crackles and emits electric sparks before vanishing before their very eyes.

“Summon it back now!” Chloroph commands, finally understanding where all this is leading.

“Can’t be that simple,” the King musters, “surely.”

“But it is,” CollectOrus says, clicking his tongue and whistling.

“There!” he exclaims at last, brandishing a new bin bag the colour of Rum, re-generated from an odd mix of particles’ waste.

“At last!” the Captain says, “bring back my beloved now will ya?”

To be continued…