The Eights’ Shift, Stories

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      And Opening.

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      Meanwhile, in the orchard of Tilston Aches, where the travelling Peaslanders just arrived

      “I don’t know what’s brewing in this dimension, but I get a reaaaaally baaaaaaaaaad feeling…” the Aunties kept repeating gloomily to each other.


      Phurt knew there was something strange, her previous memory was that she was dead and now she seemed to be perfectly alive and alert.
      The environment was strange, though. It was all full of little balls and she could see many headless people. Compared to them, her size was quite ridiculous and she prefered not to make her presence known for the moment. She will have time later for her projects of conquest of the world. But is what world was she?

      All at her thinking, she didn’t see the creature coming and she almost died again out of fear when it began to breath in the air around. Maybe it was some kind of hoovering creature. She began to feel the vibrations as the dog (who has his head on for a change) began barking to notify his master that he has found the strangest little creature aroud. The master of the dog was a child of New Peasland and when he saw that strange little creature that he had never seen before, he called for his mother, who in turn didn’t know the little creature at all, and she asked her neighbor what it could be, but the neighbor didn’t know as well, so the went together to the mayor who in turn didn’t know what to think of it, but he was sure it had not been spotted before by a mayor of New Peasland, he would be the first, and he asked the kid to entrust him with his find and that he would tell him soon about it, thank you!

      All alone in her matchbox, Phurt started to relax, the last few event had been frightening and she couldn’t do anything to escape her assailants, but the eventually let her alone, even if it was in some kind of jail.

      MOUAAHAHAHAHAH, she laughed of her little spider laugh, which resembled more to a little squircking sound than to a laugh, especially in the New Peasland dimension. She had laughed because the walls of her prisons seemed quite tender and it would not demand her too much effort to get out. But for now, she was exhausted and needed some rest. It was not everyday that you found yourself alive again.


      In the Eighth Dimension, Harvey was contemplating the destiny of his quantum umbrella. It was a sad thing enough to need an umbrella (it was starting to rain all sorts of stuff again), but a quantum umbrella was all the worse. It was never in a definite state, and would appear and disappear from one of its state to the other without any notice.

      It had disappeared once again (to be left in the basket of a bicycle, Harvey believed) when Harvey noticed the detour it forced him to make to take cover had him pass in front of a board saying “The shortest distance between two points is not a straight line, it’s a dream (Indian Proverb)”

      A gift of the quantum umbrella, no doubt.


      “What?” The Majorburgmester of Peasland almost laughed of surprise at the incongruity of Fwick con Troll’s idea. “You’re telling that this…”

      “Little spider, yes”
      “Contains a potent venom that could wipe the blubbits off the face of Peasland?”
      “Absolutely, dear Majorburgmester
      “Are you out of your Fwicking mind, Fwick? What breading this nasty spider could possibly bring us any better than a plague of crop-eating blubbits in rut?”
      “I was actually talking of breeding them, sir” Fwick objected
      The Mayor continued unperturbed “Besides, we already have our fierce constable Stoll drill the mythic Eight Dimension for answers.”
      “That would be placing a lot of trust in that foolish venture, I’m afraid to say, Majorburgmester. To date, very few people have managed to return safely.”
      “Oh, who cares if they ever bloody come back Fwick! Come on! All we need to do is extort the answers from his spouse who’s kept all their heads in a safe place, I have no doubt of that.”
      “Well… I wouldn’t place my head on this bet if I were you…”

      “Ah, bugger off then with your stinking spider, and do your bloody experiments… As long as it doesn’t involve my name, and especially in case any misguided and sad assassination should occur, ahahaha. I’m joking of course.” The Mayor’s face (which was framed and hanged on the wall of the Majorburgmester Hall’s main office) suddenly shut any hint of humanity that could have been left on it.


      When Fwick was gone, the Majorburgmester started to grind his teeth in an annoyed manner, fumbling through his notes.

      “How dare he! Killing my precious blubbits! And even if he manages to bread that stinking spider, which I highly doubt, that clown won’t live long enough to even kill the first of my dear ones!”

      The Majorburgmester was hoping his plan of Peasland domination would come to fruition soon. And then all the Mungibbs in the world would be his, MWAHAHAHAH.


      That silly Mayor’s idea suddenly found an unexpected and potentially interesting grace at the eye of Fwick the saucerer.

      After all, without having to go as far as frying the poor thing in breadcrumbs, some backing powder and yeast would actually do a lot of good to boost the immune system of the little spider…

      His thought felt almost disturbed by a squeaking sound followed by a muffled squeaghing, coming from the matchbox in his hands.


      “These tapas are lovely, eh, Leo, what are they?” asked Bea.

      “Arana Rebozada, whatever that is, some kind of squid I suppose, nice and crunchy anyway, whatever it is” replied Leo, who couldn’t remember the names of any of the characters in the new thread either.

      Fishing into the depths of her capacious handbag, Bea pulled out a battered Spanish dictionary. “Oh here we are” she said, as she swallowed the last tasty morsel. “Breaded spiders.”



      It was a good job that Fwick had a handy dose of Backing Powder. He needed all the backing he could get for his new production, “Fried Spiders Bite Back”.


      Peanelope smiled serenely as she gazed at the heads of her loved ones.

      “Oh Pixel,” she said, “Is that dust on your eyelid?”

      Chuckling to herself she ran her dusting cloth over his face, relishing the control she now had over her dear ones. One of her greatest pleasures was rearranging them on the mantelpiece. Sometimes, if her mood was poor, or she had one of her many men friends visiting, she would make them face the wall. At dinner time she would place them around the table, each head propped up on a large pile of Pee’s precious encyclopeadias.

      “More blubbit stew, Pee?” she asked.


      In his lab, Fwick was looking feverishly through all his pots and test tubes… he knew he still had some of that mighty vegemyth he brought with him from the Eighth Dimension long ago. He was sure that could be of use in his experimentation with the little spider.


      “Bugger!” bemoaned Fwick. “Blah! The butter is bitter. The butter I bought to go in the batter with the vegemyth. The butter is bitter, but now it’s blended in my batter and my blimmin batter is bitter.”

      The little spider giggled gleefully to himself.


        “Well, I’m not eating bitter batter, even if it has got butter in it. I’m going out dancing, are you coming?”

        “Dang it, yes! Let’s dance, darling, let’s dance! It’s a dandy day for dancing, I’m decidedly dapper today ~ and dashing and daring, dammit!”

        “Come on then you cute cuddly chickpea, my carriage careers round the corner now, to catch you at the curb. Come, cherished chum, come cavorting with me!”


          The Peasland Majorburgmester rubbed his hands with an evil glee.

          Fwick was knee deep in kneading for what appeared to be a lunatic idea bound to failure, and more importantly, it’s been weeks that no one had heard back from the expedition to the Eighth Dimension… And frankly, anyone having spent more than a few days in the Eighth Dimension usually was never to be heard of again —or heard speak anything intelligible for that matter, which didn’t make much difference either.
          In fact, there had been some reports of sightings of the poor souls’ dog, what was its name already, Gandfleur or something equally ridiculous. But a single dog was hardly a problem, and now he couldn’t see how Peasland would be able to avoid the unavoidable blubbits dominion over Peaslanders.
          He’d made that surer than sure; he’d gone again no later than yesterday, concealed under a waterproof floak (a floating cloak for inundated part of the lands), deep into the heart of Peasland’s plains now ridden in burrows to feed the breading mother of all blubbits a healthy dose of blunips. It had cost him most Mungibs he thought he would ever allow to part with, but it was Mungibs well placed. Soon people would plead for a real game changer. And he knew well who would step forward, and it was nothing like those headless twats.

          He was in such a jolly mood, he’d called for a party. Well not officially called that, of course —Peaslanders were such worryworts about their crops and the famine that may occur… But a little friendly gathering to celebrate their heroes gone to the Eighth for answers. What a masquerade.

          He was indeed in such a jolly mood that he took the sinewy and allwardly beautiful Lady Fin Min Hoot by the waist, and invited her to a delirious dance —it was indeed a dandy day for dancing— and for a little after-hour in his carriage when they are done jiggling their bodyparts (at least in public).

          That was then, all tied up in leather ribbons and pillows’ owl’s feathers, when he (and Lady Fin) heard the raucous voice calling.

          Gnarfle !
          Yes, that was it! that was the stupid name of the dog!…

          How come they’d managed to come back?!


          Fwick’s bladder was boiling, and pressing him for a release. That was that little minute of inattention that cost him the equally little spider, and nearly his life.

          While he was blaming and swearing at the bitter butter, he had not noticed that the amount of butter he’d prepared wouldn’t nearly have been enough to bread the spider, since the spider had already ingested the mighty yeast —as much by an insane curiosity as by bouts of bloody hunger— and as it happens, the yeast was starting to take effect.

          As the weather was still a tad on the cold side in Peasland, there was a sane amount of logs piled up against the stove, which was roaring in delight well-fed as it was. It was giving the little spider ideas, as well as a newfound strength and breadth (and some beard too, but it didn’t really matter… yet, at least).

          So while Fwick was moaning of delight at emptying said bladder into the loo, a bloody blunder was looming more than he could see.

          The little spider started to outgrow the little matchbox, which ceded without much resistance, nor any noise.
          The middle-sized spider then started to outgrow the table, which in turn ceded in a mild crack.
          Finally, the big-sized spider now dying for a breakfast the size of a cow jumped by the window which jarred at the impact and finally, as all objects learn in good time when dealing with the spider, ceded to release the hungry bearded nine-eyed now-not-so-little deadly spider with a squeaking mwahahing voice.

          That was the voice of the spider by the way, not that of the window, which didn’t have a voice to start with, even in Peasland.


          “Bugger!” said the Window.


          The Broken Window was ready to make a parable out of this regrettable story.


          “Better a window broken than a window closed” admitted Window, somewhat reluctantly.


          “Now you’ve gorn and done it! They’ll all know that Shar is really one of ‘them that shan’t be joked about’!” exclaimed Mavis.

          “What the fuck are you on about, our Mavis?” asked Gloria. “You mean the Shards what started off as Windows? Is our Sha one of them Shards then, what’s doing them chemtrails?”

          Mavis gasped in horror. “You mustn’t talk about the Shards like that” she whispered, looking nervously behind her.

          “I happen to know that this is the Lupin Express” replied Gloria, who was transitioning strongly.


          “You know, I could sit on a beach til the end of time” Shar remarked, letting the sand run through her fingers as they watched the sun go down over the sea, “and I’d never really understand how we started off as Sand ~ A Shard is nothing like Sand. Window, yes, I can see how a Shard came from Window, that makes sense ~ but SAND?….”

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