“Precisely. Relegated to the Junkyard Space Program for all those not fitting with the Purpose via minimisation: nano particles shall be reduced to nano size multiplied by itself to infinity.”
“Which country is this?”
“My country encompasses all, I shall help its border extensive extension’s propensity.”
“I was King. Now I am Fool,” King Krackskull Fool says, “what category would I fit in?”
“Ha!” Labaguette exclaims.
“You’re the foolishest fool of them all!” Birdseye says, turning to Captain Clusterflame.
“There’s no time for debate,” Captain Traumatic says, all fine print and subtext will be discussed later.”
“But Captain, a fool such as this one cannot be knighted, much like King Krackskull’s status is no longer that of King.”
“What is it with you Birdseye?” Are you scared? Do you wish to be Knight of mine?”
“I do not speak for nothing.”
“Capitaine,” Labaguette says, “Birdseye may have a point, check your library, check your books.”
“We must be getting on.”
Upon these words, Captain Traumatic raises his sword, taps it three times onto Captain Custerflame’s helmet, saying:
“And, I, shall endeavour to promote thorough cleaning of space and its surroundings by means of inter-galactically mixed and organically grown Rum sprinkling and spraying so that crumbs and left overs of all such elements as you described shall disintegrate and space be purified.”
The cosmonaut’s helmet cracks, shatters onto the ship’s woo and he takes his first breath of airspace.
Birdseye turns to space, his goggles lit up and send two powerful laser beam deep into the darkness, illuminating the nothingness all around them, uncovering more depth of nothingness, forming displays of lit up pictures: helmets, barbed wires, Batman’s logo, nuclear explosions and crosses momentarily appear, thus closing the knighthood ritual.
To be continued…