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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: 20 Bikini Brigade part 20 of 22 (NND) dec13
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
BIKINI BRIGADE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Twenty
“He’s just some big, ugly goopy guy who needs a bath!” Matilda
said angrily at the large figure looming before them. It held a
half-eaten fudgesicle in its hand. It had big goofy eyes and a lolling
tongue.
“You’re not very nice,” the figure retorted.
“Away, bum! Go visit a public restroom and wash all that goop
off you!” Matilda said. “We’ve no time for you!”
“You should be nice to people,” the figure said.
“Now Moe--” Polly said. She smacked her lips, as old people
do, and prepared to launch into a speech.
“He’s awfully large,” Glenda said to Matilda. She gazed at the
molasses-laden creature.
“Bums come in all shapes and sizes,” Matilda snapped. She
pushed Polly aside and advanced to the front of their raft. “Away, you
idle creature!” Matilda cried. “What are you, some out of work sumo
wrestler? Couldn’t keep a job wrestling, so you decided to live like
Ted Kaczynski instead? Hanging out in this swamp? Go and have yourself
a bath, man! No one will employ you, looking like that!”
“Well if you don’t like me, then I’ll let you enjoy my
molasses!” Molasses Moe cried. He sank lower into the swamp. He seemed
to disappear. Matilda glanced at Glenda and Polly, a satisfied grin on
her face.
“We’ve no time to bargain with dirty old strangers,” Matilda
said. She pointed to Percy and Paul and Al, who were holding the pole
that guided the raft. “Forward, you three. Don’t stand there idly, or
I’ll pitch you over the side and you can enjoy the rest of the night in
the swamp with that bum!”
A sooty tern flew overhead. There was a soft, subtle sound in
the swamp, as of liquid moving.
A moment later Molasses Moe rose up underneath the raft.
“What-- ho! We’re being flipped over!” Matilda cried.
“Yeek!” Percy and Paul yelled.
“Oh, my!” Polly shouted.
With a blubbering roar, Molasses Moe rose up from the depths of
the moor and pitched their raft over. Everyone on the raft was plunged
into the swamp’s sticky, dark fluid.
I gazed out at the peanuts painting the throne room. There
were four of them, in all. Another peanut had been drafted into the
project, making it all the harder for Pauline and myself to escape the
Peppermint Portal, where we still were hiding.
I looked down at my gun. It only squirted cream, still. I
didn’t dare use it unless it was really necessary, for it would be like
trying to win a war with a squirt gun.
“I hope my Daddie’s still alive,” Pauline whispered to me. She
was sniffling, quietly as she could, with her hand over her mouth so the
peanuts wouldn’t hear her.
“I’m sure he is,” I lied. I had no idea whether her father was
alive or dead, but the last thing I needed was a bawling 6-year-old on
my hands. I looked at my gun again. “If only this thing would work,” I
sighed.
“Well if you won’t give us the barge, I’ll just shoot you off
it!” Tommy yelled to the peanuts by the Sea of Cream. He fired at the
ice cream bar. He hit a peanut and it went flying backwards into the
waves. The other peanuts let out screams and dove voluntarily into the
sea. “Forward, driver!” Tommy shouted. The driver cracked his whip
across the horses’ backs. The carriage rolled forward. It crossed from
the road out onto the ice cream bar. “Make way for royalty!” Tommy
cried. He fired his gun again, at no one in particular, and watched as
the shot from his marshmellow gun arced out over the surf.
30
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