Malcolm Crabstick

A short story I started that is still ongoing.

Malcolm Crabstick

Malcolm was sleeping soundly. He was dreaming of a pony show he'd seen once as a child. He remembered the name of the finest pony on show that day, 'Wiggum Mustardgas' was her name. A real black beauty she was.

Then came a violent rapping. Louder and louder it grew, rising to preposterous levels. Malcolm clutched his head and span around wildly in circles screaming 'Oh please god! Rid me of this turbulent noise!'

Then he awoke. He knew now that the knocking was someone at his front door, which had invaded his dream like an insect in the night.

He pulled the nets back from the bedroom window and looked down. There was an official sort of man standing on the doorstep. He was holding a clipboard. Malcolm stared down wild eyed at the strange man.

He opened the window and called out, 'Hello down there. Who are you please?'

The man looked up in surprise, but this soon gave way to a shit eating grin.

'Well Hello there, Mr. Crabstick. You are a tricky man to get hold of aren't you?'

Malcolm eyed the man with slanty eyes.

'It depends who wants me.'

'Ah, well then, I shall have to tell you that I am from the TV licensing board, Mr. Crabstick.' The man whipped out his ID and smirked again.

'Oh, I see... Well... I haven't got a TV, sorry.'

'You lying scum. We know you've got a bloody telly! It's time to pay up!'

'I never got any letters!'

'We sent you three letters. You've gone beyond the pail this time. You slimy reptoid, you!'

Malcolm throught he saw the eyes of the man glow green for a brief second and a slight fork appear briefly in his tongue.

'Oh god please... please! How much do I owe you?'

'Oh, this has gone beyond money now. There's only one kind of payment you can make.'

'Anything! Just tell me what it is and you can have it!'

'We want your body!'

'My body?!' Malcolm covered his eyes with his hands. 'No! You can't have my body!'

'We're going to get it one way or another, matey!'

Malcolm pulled the window to and threw the nets back across. He pulled on some clothes and looked around the room desperately. 'There's only one way I can see out of this...' he muttered to himself.

He went over to the wardrobe and pulled the covers off of his homemade jetpack. He pulled the canvas straps across his front and fastened the chunky metal clasps. He moved from side to side, making sure the pack was secured properly. Pulling on his custom made helmet, he peeked out of the window and saw some burly men being directed by the TV liscensing man. They were going to smash the door in at any second.

Malcolm kicked the window open and stood perched on the windowsill.

'What the hell do you think your doing?!' Screamed the devil man outside.

'I'm getting away from you! You bloody maniac!'

'We'll see about that!'

Malcolm flicked on the fuel release and heard the high powered hiss of pure power emanate from behind him. He pressed down hard on the ignition button and felt the G's as he was propelled forwards.

The men below watched, mouths agape, as Malcolm spiralled madly through the sky.

'SO LONG, DOUCHEBAGS!' Malcom screamed as he flew away at two hundred miles per hour.

The TV licensing man unclipped a radio from his belt, 'Call in the attack choppers.'

He slid the radio back to his belt and stood staring at the sky.

*

As he weaved through the air, Malcolm took in the magnificent vista below and in front of him. The streets gave way to lusious country and the sky was mottled with cotton candy clouds. The sun was hiding playfully behind a cloud, only deigning to appear fitfully.

He was trying to think of a place to go, a safe place he could hide and figure this whole sticky mess out.

Lost in thought, he suddenly became aware of a 'fupping' noise growing behind him. He wheeled around mid air and floated facing towards the sound. He felt a jolt of electric adrenaline rush through his bodyparts as he clapped eyes on the choppers. They were armed to the teeth and had those scary decal's that are designed to make the helicopter look even more imposing than it already is.

Malcom didn't have any aggressive capabilities and so had only one option – to run away.

He span around and engaged the forward boosters on the jetpack. The choppers trailed him in hot persuit. A crackly voice came forth from one of the helicopters;

'There's no use in running, Crabstick! We're armed up the arse and more than willing to kill!'

Malcolm tried to ignore their talk and went for full power. His face was pulled back into a painful grimace as he accumulated speed.

The choppers gave chase and stayed on his tail. Faint tracers of light flashed passed him, he could hear the nose mounted machine gun of the chopper rasping away behind him.

A missile screamed past, missing him by an inch. He followed it as it flew past him and exploded amongst a flock of geese about a football pitch's length away to his right. Their feathers plumed outwards in a grand filigree of white and pink.

'This is it.' He thought. 'The hammer is finally going to come down on Malcolm Crabstick!'

He weaved to and fro, evading the bullets and missiles that tore past him.

'We've got you now!' screamed the voice from the helicopter. 'There's no use in run...JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!'

Malcolm turned his head and saw what the pilot was so scared of. Between Malcolm and the choppers was a swirling green vortex. Malcolm came to a halt and stared into it. He floated closer, sure that he could see a figure at the centre of the languid spiral.

Malcolm could just make him out. He was about eight feet tall, pale and almost skeletal. He wore what looked like an undertaker's suit and a top hat pushed over to a jaunty angle.

'Who are you?' asked Malcolm in almost a whisper.

'Ahhheeeooo!' the man bellowed and slapped his knee. 'I'm Daddy Longlegs, boy! And I've come to take you to the reptoid dimension!'

Before Malcolm could respond, a bony hand shot towards him and pulled him into the vortex.

The chopper crews watched in utter amazement as the vortex closed down to pin size and dissapeared with a cheeky 'POP!' noise.

*

All around Malcolm was a swirling mass of light and colour. It really reminded him of '2001: A Space Odyssey'. First panels, then blobs, of multi-hued light flashed past him.

He tried to call out but found he could not speak. The speed at which he was travelling made it hard for him to move his head but he could move just enough to see this man, this 'Daddy Longlegs', holding his hand and seemingly guiding them through this psychadelic lightscape.

'Don't strain too hard, boy.'

Malcolm looked at this creature but was mute.

'Don't want you bustin' a vein! We got plans for you!' With that, Daddy Longlegs burst into an icy cackle and Malcolm blacked out.

*

'Hey. Wake up, Boy! We's arrived at our destination!'

Malcolm struggled to open his eyes as light flooded in and wrapped it's spindly fingers around his aching brain.

'Where am I?' Malcolm muttered.

'I done told you before! This is the reptoid dimension!'

Malcolm struggled to his feet and, putting a hand over his eyes, gazed out on the scene before him.

The world was desert like with a shocking purple sky. Green flashes danced across the sky sporadically. There were plants and trees dotted hither and thither – squat plants covered in vicious black barbs. Some were like luminous green pumpkins, but these had little orange puffs of flowers along the vegetable crests of the plant.

'Why am I here?' Malcolm asked.

'Ah! The ten million dollar question! You's here because we need soldiers!'

'Soldiers for what?'

'What else do you need soldiers for, dummy?! We's at war!' Malcolm stumbled back, his mouth agape in a ghostly fashion. Daddy Longlegs danced over to him.

'You ain't scared is you boy?'

Malcolm clenched his jaw and growled his response; 'Mister, Malcolm Crabstick isn't afraid of anything!'

Longlegs' mouth contorted into a wicked grin and he let out a yowl skywards.

'That's the spirit, boy! Let's get going! You gots to meet the rest of the team!'

With that, Daddy Longlegs began to dance a path through the desert, Malcolm stoically following.

*

Malcolm stood before the group and had to try hard not to let his eyeballs fall from their sockets. It had been explained to him that he was part of an elite team, handpicked from millions of dimensions in order to help protect this planet from the malevolent clutches of Seabrox- the fiendish inter-dimensional war baron.

There were a few groups milling about the bunker Malcolm found himself in. There were about fifty entities he estimated, as far as he could see there were only two humans present – including himself.

A gaseous being floated towards him and spoke in a a sickening tone, at which Malcolm visibly recoiled.

The being proffered something and motioned for him to place it in his ear. Malcolm complied and, after a few seconds of high pitched noises, was able to understand the thing before him.

'Greetings! I am Maize Snakk.'

'I'm Malcolm Crabstick.' Malcolm held out a hand but realised his school boy error and withdrew it quickly.

'What planet are you from?' asked Maize.

'Earth. What about you?'

'I am from Planet Rape.'

'Planet... Rape?'

'Yes! Planet Rape, in the Rudeclark cluster.'

'That's... nice.' replied Malcolm, unsure how to proceed. He was spared blushes by the approach of the other human he had seen. The man was tall and insanely muscular, clad only in a loincloth and big, furry boots. At his side was a massive, fuck off sword and he had a huge axe slung over his back. The man held out his hand; 'My name is Steele. Who be you?'

'I'm Malcolm.'

With that, Malcolm offered his twig-like arm up into Steele's bear paw mitt. Steele held Malcolm's hand firmly - perhaps a little too hard, as if he were trying to show his immediately apparent strength.

Malcolm smiled and laughed nervously but there was no escaping. Steele's wild eyes were boring into Malcolm's mind and filling it with a mad haze.

'What is this man doing to me?!' Screamed Malcolm inside his mind, unable to issue sound from his mouth.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the ordeal ended.

'I had to test you.' Said Steele.

'Test me for what?' asked Malcolm, testily.

'I had to make sure your heart was pure and strong. That your nuts be salty and true!'

'Did I pass?'

'Aye, lad! Thee passed well! There not be a stouter man in these lands than thee! Except maybe... ME?!'

Steele boomed and laughed heartily. He slapped Malcolm on the back quite hard. Malcolm laughed, then the gas man laughed and they all looked at each other with tears of joy in their eyes, faces twisted into mad forms as they yowled and cried.

*

Tbc.