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Captain Wozzo Chapter 3. By DA.

The story continues (if you haven't read the other chapters yet click here.)

Captain Wozzo, savior of the world, defender of the galaxy, mightiest brain in the universe, spoke.

"Org!" He said, feeling rather the worse for wear. "What happened?"

He tried to open his eyes, they were too sore.

"Aargh!" He added.

You see, the problem was that our hero had been captured by the Pretavians..

<<Sounds painful!>>

Don't be facetious, this is serious stuff. If he can't use his super-powers to escape from this perilous predicament the whole world is facing unprecedented vicissitudes.

<<Excuse me, but what are you on about?>>

If he doesn't sort it out we're all in the poo.

<<Oh I see.>>

The Captain fumbled in his pocket. If he could activate his chameleon suit he would appear to be invisible and..

<<Hang on a minute, how can he appear to be invisible? If he's invisible he'd disappear wouldn't he?>>

Stop quibbling, I'm trying my best to generate some tension and you keep spoiling it. Now my pencil's broken.


That's better. Now where was I? Ah yes, the chameleon suit. Now, if only the Captain could find the remote control he'd be off in a trice. Or on a bus, whichever was the cheaper. His fingers closed around a small plastic case. He gingerly pressed one of the buttons.. "It's just coming up to almost just past a quarter to three and now here's Sally with the traffic" came a tinny voice followed by some terrible tootling jingle, like this: "doo diddle-dee diddle doo diddle diddly, doo diddle-dee diddle doo diddle diddly.." <<For goodness sake stop, I can't stand traffic jingles!>> he clicked it off again. "Hmm, that isn't it, now where did I.."

After a bit more fumbling the terrible realisation came upon him; the remote control was in the glove compartment of the Wozzo-mobile. Well they tell you to do that don't they? "Lock your valuables in the glove-box" they say and the Captain had done just that. His laser-guided nose-hair trimmer was in there too, and his pack of tiny-teeny screwdrivers for undoing tiny-teeny screws, and the key to his mum's garden shed. What a disaster, she'd need the lawn-mower on Saturday.

After a while he finally managed to open one eye. Nothing! Blackness. Inky gloom. <<OK OK we see, it's dark, right?>> Yes, very.

The Captain's mighty brain had soon sized up the situation. "Futtocks!" he exclaimed, "There would have been no point in the chameleon suit anyway, it's dark!" <<He's sharp as a knife isn't he?>> Yes, you know he's a profobe of soup or something don't you? <<Err. I seem to remember something about soup.. or was it soap?>>

Anyway, back to the story.

He decided to start walking, he would soon find something if he started walking.
He did.
After two steps he ran into the wall. "Mumph!" he moaned, jumping up and down holding his foot. Crack! went his head on the ceiling. "Oooh!" trying to keep quiet was becoming pretty difficult. Now that he had discovered the wall he decided to feel around it until he found something useful. First he found a damp patch which smelled of mould, then he found a moldy patch which smelled of damp, finally he came upon a bit of pipe which lead down to a switch on the wall. He pressed it.

A deafening siren started to wail "WeeeWaaa WeeeWaaa Weee.."<<Yes, alright, we know how sirens go.>> "Fudge!" muttered the Captain, "I thought it was the light switch."

Just then the door opened and the Captain felt himself being lifted, ever so slightly, off the ground and carried along a still dark passage towards a dimly lit door. <<Bit spooky this, isn't it?>> Shhh! This is dramatic tension.

The door creaked open as they arrived, revealing a large boot festooned with multi-coloured socks. The throne of the Chief Pretavian!

A tiny voice spoke. "Welcome Wozzo, to the mighty throne of the head of the glorious Pretavian expeditionary force!"

"Eh what?" Said the Captain "Speak up a bit, I can't hear a bloomin' thing."

"I said: Welcome Wozzo, to the mighty throne of the head of the glorious Pretavian expeditionary force!"

"Nope. Still not getting it. Hang on a jiffy." The Captain took the radio out of his pocket and flipped open the case, he re-connected a couple of wires and held the set at arms length and pointed it at the chief Pretavian's boot.

"Don't you point that thing at me!" Came a much louder voice.

"That's better, now what were you on about?"

"I said: Welcome Wozzo, to the mighty throne of the head of the glorious Pretavian expeditionary force!"

"Is that all? Rather a waste of my batteries. I wonder if Sally's still on?"

"Be quiet, you miserable malefactor, you will do my bidding or die! Ha ha ha ha!" <<What's so funny?>> He's not laughing at a joke he's laughing maniacally! <<Bit of a looney is he?>> Power crazed I reckon, he is the chief Pretavian after all. <<I wouldn't have thought that being the chief of the sock-grit clan was something to be all that proud of.>> We all have our place in the grand scheme of things. <<Very philosophical.>>

"I have a plan to conquer your world Wozzo, and you will help me do it! Ha ha ha ha!" Cackled the chief.

"No I won't!" cried our hero defiantly.



"Will so!"

"Won't so there!"

"Will with knobs on!" <<This is ridiculous. Can you get back to the plot?>>

"Put these boots on and we will go to your laboratory." Commanded the chief, fixing Wozzo with a fierce stare. Unfortunately, with the chief being so tiny, the fierce stare went unnoticed.

"They aren't my style." Complained Wozzo, he never wore kicker boots, only sensible black shoes specially adapted to carry essential supplies such as licorice all-sorts. Thinking about his shoes gave him an idea.

"How did you survive my PONG?" He enquired.

"Ha ha ha ha!" Cackled the chief. "Your PONG mostly had short-term effects, we survived and have now grown stronger. We are no longer allergic to chocolate and can eat whole bars at a time. Ha ha ha ha!" <<This bloke's getting on my nerves, can't Wozzo do something?>>

"What about the odour-eaters?"

"Ahem. Well, yes we don't like those, but fortunately most people just have smelly socks and we love smelly socks! Ha ha ha ha! Now take off your shoes."

Wozzo refused and hordes of tiny Pretavians swarmed around him, they started to tug at his shoes but then backed off. He wondered what they were doing, he wasn't wearing odour eaters like his mum had told him and his socks were certainly smelly, so they should have liked his shoes, but they obviously didn't. They were retreating, coughing and choking.

"This is chemical warfare!" Shouted the chief. "We will return!"
Then all the Pretavians, the big boot, the colourful socks and the slight smell of feet, were gone.

"Good gracious!" muttered the Captain, "What on-earth caused that? Must be something about my shoes." He groped about in the secret compartment in his left shoe and found some half-chewed gum, a coupon for a free tube of mustard, some self-tapping screws and an old gramophone needle which stuck into his finger. "Eeek! can't be any of that. Let's see what's in the other side." Then he remembered. Liquorice all-sorts, complete with the coconut ones. He hadn't had time to run this packet through CRAP after he'd bought it so he'd put it in the shoe compartment for later.

It all made sense now, the coconut snacks man had been attacked but they had left his sweets alone. PONG must have had another effect that the Captain hadn't planned, they could no longer stand coconut. In their hatred of it the Pretavians and the Captain were on the same side!

<<Eh? What? Wozzo's joined the Pretavians? I was just dozing off there.>>

No! Of course he hasn't, neither of them like coconut sweets.

<<So what? I don't like minty ones.>>

You'll see..

It was dark again now that the Pretavians had gone so the Captain started walking. He found the wall.
Then the ceiling. Crack!
"Aargh!.. Futtocks!"
Then some stairs.
"Aaaaaargh.. Ooooh.. . . . . Bother!"
The stairs were going down, and so was the Captain, rather faster and more uncomfortably than he would have liked. He arrived at the bottom with a thump, a couple of bruises and a black-eye. When the stars flying round in front of his eyes faded away he noticed a crack of sunlight. It must be a door to the outside.

He picked himself up slowly, checking that all his arms and legs worked properly

<<All of them? How many arms and legs has he got?>>

He tried the door, it wasn't locked, he went outside and looked around to see where he was. The concrete carbuncle that he had emerged from looked familiar.. it was the Crigley water-tower! That explained why he'd had to go down-stairs to get outside. But where had the Pretavians gone? <<Chuffed if I know.>>

I wasn't asking you, it was an internal dialogue, inside the Captain's head.

<<Hmm, dangerous place that! There's no telling what goes on in there..>>

Well, what was going on at that moment was that he was wondering where the Pretavians had gone, then he had an idea. They must have gone back to their ship, but where would they have parked it? A Pretavian battle cruiser sounds impressive but actually looks like a shoe-box. Usually in a nasty shade of green. They would have chosen somewhere nice and clear of long grass, trees and other tangly stuff that would stop it landing and taking off. The flat top of the water-tower would be ideal!

The captain fumbled in his pockets again and pulled out a small telescope. He started to extend it, it got longer and longer until it almost reached the top of the water tower. He put it to his eye.
"Ah-Ha!" he said. <<A-ha? Aren't they a Swedish group from the 80's?>> No, they're Norwegian, but that's not important right now, the Captain had spotted the ship, on top of the tower, just as he had suspected. Time to call for backup!

Most of Wozzo's equipment was still in the car but he did have the radio. He would call the Supreme President and get some commandos here in a jiffy.
"Frrrt, buzzz, weeeeooooo." Went the radio as the Captain twiddled it to high-security encryption and the super secret international crime-fighting frequency.
"Hello, Wozzo calling base, come in base."
"Ello! A1 mini-cabs, where d'you wanna go mate?" Came the reply.
"I don't wanna, err, want to go anywhere. I want backup. Get off the channel!"
"You gerroff the channel if you don't wanna cab, I got 15 cabs to control 'ere and your jammin' me out."
"Now look here, I'm on the international... err... oh bother! Sorry, it's 151.2574 not 161, bye for now!"

Wozzo re-programmed the radio. "Wozzo here. Help, send backup!" He yelled into the mike.
"Stop yelling Wozzo, we know you're in trouble I've got you on GUTS."

Wozzo had forgotten about the Supreme President's GUTS, but this was good news. Help would be on the way.
"Ah well, I'm afraid it's Wednesday Wozzo."
"Wednesday?" Spluttered Wozzo. "Is it early-closing or something?"
"No no, that would be silly. All the commandos are on a management training course to comply with new good business practice regulations. If they don't do it we'll be closed down."
"But but but"
"You're doing that motor-boat thing again Wozzo. Pull yourself together! "
"But I've got the Pretavians in my sights and I need backup!"
"Sorry Wozzo, earliest I can do it is tomorrow morning. Bye!"

The radio went dead. "Bum!" Said Wozzo. The Pretavians weren't going to hang about on top of a water-tower all night. He had to get some help. He twiddled the radio again.

"Hello, A1 mini-cabs are you there?" Called the Captain.
"Yes mate. Waddya want?"
"Do you collect take-aways." He enquired...

<<Dot-dot-dot again already? What's going on? Why's he ordering food?>>

All will be revealed in the final exciting chapter.

<<It'd better be, I'm starting to lose interest!>>

To be continued, dot, dot, dot.

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