Sample of my book

One

It took Frogmorton Culpepper thirty-two years four months and
seventeen days to reach an important conclusion. Not that he had
thought about that one subject continuously for that amount of time,
you understand. Other things had entered his mind during the course of
his lifetime, but then he would have led a singularly boring life if he
had never thought of anything else.
He was lying flat on his back on the floor of his living room when the
thought struck him and, feeling that thirty-two years four months and
seventeen days was altogether long enough to bottle it all up inside,
he turned to Chloe, who was lying on the floor next to him and said,
"Space is big."
The news was no big deal to Chloe. She took it all in her stride.
Space might well be big, but she had much more important things on her
mind.
It might be worth mentioning that Chloe did not have much of an idea
about the concept of space. Indeed, the subject rarely bothered her at
all. Chloe only ever thought about two things - eating and sleeping. A
boring trait in a woman, that is agreed, but nobody ever said that
Chloe was a woman, did they? In fact, Chloe was Frogmorton's cat.
"Space is big." Frogmorton repeated - in case Chloe had missed the
enormity of the statement the first time around.
Chloe responded by stretching her paws out in front of her and, giving
a huge yawn curled up into a fluffy ball and went to sleep.
Frogmorton sprang to his feet and ran across to the window, which he
flung open. He stuck his head out and gazed up to the heavens to make
sure he hadn't been mistaken. The sudden movement was too much for
Chloe and, thinking at least a hurricane was about to strike, she dived
for cover under the couch.
"It must be big," he mused, "otherwise you would be able to see the
other end of it."
"He's not still going on about space," thought Chloe. Just because she
had no concept of space didn't mean that she couldn't have an opinion.
Many successful politicians have forged their careers using that
principle.
"I mean, it would take an enormous amount of time to get all the way
across it." Frogmorton continued.
Chloe was getting rather fed up with all this talk about space and
took the opportunity to leave the room whilst her master was
contemplating the cosmic navel.
Frogmorton stared up at the stars dancing motionlessly above him. He
scoured the sky and found the Great Bear. That was easy to recognise.
Then his eyes darted from constellation to constellation. There was
Hydra. There was Leo. And Orion the great hunter. He singled out each
of them in turn, calling their names out loudly in triumphant
recognition, all the time gasping at the awesome spectacle above him.
It was a pity he hadn't got a clue about astronomy and hadn't
identified one constellation correctly. But he was keen and
enthusiastic and that must count for something in the great scheme of
things.
It was being keen and enthusiastic that got Frogmorton his job. He
worked at Dawson University in the Environmental Technology department.
Oh, sure, it sounds pretty impressive, but the truth of the matter was
that Frogmorton was nothing more than a janitor sweeping up the mess
left over when the scientists had finished a project and were satisfied
(or not) with the results.
He had written to the Head of Department, shortly before receiving his
exam results from school, saying how much he loved the environment and
how he wanted to work towards a better place for future generations to
live. The Head of Department wrote back and told him that, if he
obtained good grades in his exams, he would be considered. However, the
results were not quite what Frogmorton was expecting and the Head of
Department turned him down. Undaunted, Frogmorton wrote relentlessly to
the Head of Department saying that he would take any job offered in
order to work with the environment and, eventually, his persistence
paid off and he was given the job he has now - mostly because the Head
of Department was fed up with all the letters and certainly not because
of any aptitude Frogmorton may have had towards working with the
environment. Nevertheless, Frogmorton felt that he was contributing to
the salvation of the planet and it made him feel good. Besides, he
didn't intend being a laboratory assistant for the rest of his life and
was taking an Open University degree in order to gain promotion. With a
degree he felt he could really make a difference. People might start to
take notice of him. He would be able to communicate his ideas to the
world - make people aware that they had it in their own hands to stop
the rot that was gradually taking over and destroying the planet.
The following morning was going to be the starting point of his future
career. The following morning he was going to get the results of his
Open University degree course. The following morning he was going to
ask the Dean for a real job in the Environmental Technology
department.
He had already been working on a project in the Environmental
Technology Laboratory, with the, albeit reluctant, permission of the
Head of Department. It formed part of his course. It was not a set
project, it was an idea of his own and he was very excited about it
indeed. He called it Project Earth and he was aiming to show how the
Greenhouse Effect could be reversed and how the ozone layer could be
replenished.
Frogmorton was starting to feel dizzy looking up to the heavens. He
sighed at the incomprehensible vastness of it all and said, with a smug
feeling of total comprehension, "Space is bloody big."

**********

Of course, Frogmorton was quite correct. Space is a pretty large chunk
of real estate with plenty of room to build an extension. You don't get
a lot of noise from the neighbours either. As a matter of fact, you
hardly ever see them. But his last statement was not quite as accurate
as it might, at first glance, appear. You have probably heard the
argument that space is relative and, I dare say, it is. Who are we to
doubt the words of scientists? But do any of us really know what it is
relative to?
"Time!" I hear you all shout in unison. Well, that's a pretty vague
statement. It's as if we are all programmed to respond to the question
"What is space relative to?" by shouting out "Time!" like a bunch of
demented parrots. The fact is that "time" is a word landlords use when
they want to close the bar and send everyone home so that they can
start the serious business of after-hours-drinking. "Time" is a device
bosses use to measure how effectively employees are performing their
jobs - or not, as the case may be. Time is a man-made thing. It's our
way of measuring the passing of day to night and season to season. I
don't doubt that those things are relative to space, but hours and
minutes are synthetic. They don't really exist outside the ticking of
someone's watch - but I digress. As I have said, "Space is relative."
We don't have to know precisely what to. Let's just accept the wisdom
of science.
Although Frogmorton made his rash claim as to the size of space, he
didn't qualify his statement and, therefore, it was flawed.
Of course, if you're sitting in a space capsule hurtling towards the
moon at God knows what speed, knowing that a decimal point in the wrong
place in your trajectory could make you miss your target by several
thousand miles, space is, indeed, very big.
If, on the other hand, you are trying to thread a needle, you will
notice that the space through which you are trying to push the thread
is not that big at all and that a decimal point in the wrong place in
your trajectory could make you miss your target by several thousand
miles. Or, at least, that's how it seems.
It is thought, in some circles, that contemplating the size of the
universe - which includes quite a bit of space, I understand - can send
people mad. I cannot fully agree with this theory as I personally used
to think about the vastness of the Cosmos quite often as a youth.

**********
Frogmorton pulled his head back inside. He could not see very far in
the night sky and was straining his eyes (it could be argued that,
because some of the stars Frogmorton was looking at were several
hundred light years away, he could actually see very far in the night
sky). He noticed that Chloe had left the room. She always seemed to do
that when he wanted to have a chat with her. It was as if she sensed
that he had something he wanted to get off his chest and so she would
run off and find a hiding place until he had forgotten what it was he
wanted to say to her. She could be very selfish at times.
The only other person he could talk to was his mother, but she wasn't
interested in any of the things he was. The only thing she seemed
concerned about was finding Frogmorton a wife. If she was so interested
in seeing him married, what the hell did she give him a name like
Frogmorton for?
He had asked her about that many times, but she would never tell him.
It remained one of the great-untold secrets of the Universe.
He thought that, maybe, he was named after one of his grandfathers,
but research showed him that that was not the case. Frogmorton, indeed!
What a ribbing he used to get at school. He imagined, perhaps, that the
name might have been some fantastically hilarious joke his mother was
playing on his father, but dismissed that idea, because his mother was
devoid of a sense of humour. However, no matter how he came by the
name, he was stuck with it. Everyone knew him by that name so there was
no point changing it now, not after nearly thirty-three years.
He always believed that he suited his name though. Especially the
'Frog' bit. Mind you, at times, he felt the 'mort' bit to be quite
reflective of not only the way he felt, but also his social life. It
was not easy, being a spotty spectacle wearer, to attract females in
his youth and, although now his spots had long disappeared, so had his
self-confidence. Consequently he still felt ill at ease with
girls.
Whenever his mother described him to an eligible young lady, she would
always highlight his strong points, which didn't usually take her many
minutes to do. If he only thought about it more, though, he could make
himself quite presentable.
Frogmorton closed the window and drew the curtains. It was late and he
had a busy schedule ahead of him the following day. He walked through
to the kitchen to make himself a bedtime drink and there was confronted
by his nemesis.
His mother sat at the kitchen table, a picture of refinement with her
legs up on the table picking dead skin from between her toes.
"Mum! Do you have to do that?" he pleaded.
"Are you going to do it for me?" she asked. Quite a relevant question
really.
"But do you have to do it on the kitchen table? We have to eat off of
there."
"Oh, and so you expect your poor mother to bend down and reach her
toes now! You know what my back's like."
"Mum, there is nothing wrong with your back."
"No, I know. And that's because I don't go around bending over to
touch my toes all the time. I look after my body, I do. You ought to do
the same. It's no wonder you're not married, the way you neglect your
body."
"I do not neglect my body."
"Well why aren't you married by now then? I was married with five kids
by the time I was your age."
"No you weren't. I'm an only child."
"No thanks to your father. He was always after it, he was. Dirty old
sod! If I'd given in to him every time he wanted a bit, I'd probably
have had a dozen kids."
"Do you mind putting your feet away, mum? I want to get myself a bit
of supper before I go on up to bed."
His mother did mind, but grudgingly put away the offending appendages
and went off to bed, all the time mumbling about what a randy devil
Frogmorton's father was and how she couldn't even do whatever she liked
in her own kitchen any more. Staring at the retreating figure of his
overbearing mother made Frogmorton realise that marriage would not be a
bad option after all.
He went to the cupboard to get the cocoa and found only an empty tin
so decided to settle for hot milk. As he made his way to the microwave
with his mug of milk, Chloe decided to return home with some supper of
her own and darted through the catflap at just the right moment to send
Frogmorton sprawling across the kitchen floor. Amazingly he managed not
to spill a drop of milk and, as he lay there on his stomach, Chloe
proudly laid her offering about half an inch from the end of his nose.
It was a mouse.
Chloe was a strange creature. She very much enjoyed the hunt. Her
instincts were in perfect working order. She would stalk her prey with
great patience and would pounce at just the right moment. She would
spend the required amount of time toying with her catch, but then,
perhaps because of being pampered by her human companions so much, she
would not eat her quarry unless it was hot. She wanted her meat cooked
- albeit done rare. In order not to keep Chloe waiting too long,
Frogmorton usually microwaved her little titbits. Four minutes on full
power for a mouse or vole, six minutes for a rat or small bird and ten
minutes for the likes of the occasional seagull.
He picked the dead creature up by its tail and headed for the
microwave. He opened the door of the appliance and put his mug of milk
inside, closed the door and set the timer for one minute. Oh, don't
worry about hygiene. Frogmorton had a second microwave just for Chloe
and he didn't even keep it in the kitchen. In fact it was hidden out of
sight behind the television cabinet in the living room. A series of
beeps gently reminded Frogmorton that his bedtime drink was now warm
and he retrieved it from the microwave and took it and the mouse
through to the living room. Chloe was frantically rubbing around his
legs as he passed between the two rooms and it was a miracle that he
didn't end up on the floor in a heap again. Frogmorton placed his mug
on the coffee table and went behind the television cabinet to cook
Chloe's supper. As he bent down to open the door of Chloe's microwave,
he noticed a peculiar purple light emanating from within. He pressed
his nose up against the glass door to observe this phenomenon more
closely and could hardly believe his eyes. Standing there inside
Chloe's microwave was a four-inch tall humanoid figure bathed in a
purple glow. Chloe arched her back and spat, narrowly missing
Frogmorton's face which he had turned towards her as if to ask her for
confirmation of that which he had just witnessed. He looked back at the
microwave. There was no glow this time. Everything appeared normal.
Frogmorton tossed the mouse inside and set the timer to four minutes.
He thought he had better get off to bed - he must have been more tired
than he felt.

**********

Isn't fate funny? Things invariably happen either when we least expect
them or when we've turned our backs or left the room just for a couple
of seconds. Like when your favourite football team is playing a
televised live match and you have to leave the room half way through
the first half because of an urgent call of nature. You can bet your
bottom dollar that the moment you leave that room the deadlock will be
broken by one or other of the teams sinking the ball into the back of
the net. And when you're out and about on holiday, for instance, you
know that the moment you start to put a new film in your camera, Elvis
Presley will walk by hand in hand with Amelia Earhart.
Such a case of peculiarly bad timing occurred at NASA's SETI
installation at Ames Research Center near Palo Alto, California. For
the briefest of moments, the instruments picked up a particularly
strong and localised signal. Further investigations would have revealed
that the signal had been aimed at somewhere in the UK. However, at
precisely the same moment, Gavin Woosner, the operative on duty at the
time, decided to sneeze. It wasn't, of course, a conscious decision
and, if he had had the choice, he would probably have preferred not to
bother, but the event did distract him from observing the first real
contact with extra-terrestrial life this planet would have. He did, of
course, notice the incident on the printout, but, thinking the anomaly
was caused by his nasal ejaculation, his reaction was to say, "Man!
When I sneeze, I SNEEZE!" and then he continued to ignore it. If Gavin
Woosner had been able to make arrangements to sneeze at a later date,
he could have made a name for himself at NASA.

Two

As we have already established, space is big. It should, therefore,
come as no surprise that we are not alone in the Cosmos and proof of
this fact, if proof were needed, embodied itself in the shape of the
inter-galactic StarDestroyer Blagn'k as it sped along at velocities
that we can only dream of. It's crew consisted of StarFleet Admiral
Kratol and SpaceTrooper (Fourth Class) Domr'k. Although the star shaped
vessel was the size of a small city, a larger crew was unnecessary. The
two aliens hailed from the planet Braakl'g, and they were in the employ
of a highly developed life-force known as The Source, who used them to
do some of the more mundane tasks associated with being Controllers of
the Universe.
The Source had been in existence long before what we regard as the
Universe, although they had limited knowledge of events preceding the
Big Bang or, as they called it, the Big Event. They evolved over the
millennia into a single entity embracing the whole of their
civilisation whilst, somehow, retaining the individuality of each
constituent part. A hard concept for us to grasp - agreed, but take my
word for it. What reason do I have for lying to you?
This single entity had no physical form and relied on using lesser
species to perform any actions that were on a lower plane than pure
thought. That was where Admiral Kratol and Trooper Domr'k came in to
the picture. Oh, sure, the fact that Kratol was an Admiral seems very
impressive, but the rank was automatically awarded to any officer of
the Braakl'gian Space Navy who was in command of a StarDestroyer. The
truth of the matter was that he and Domr'k were nothing more than
inter-galactic janitors sweeping up the mess left over when The Source
had finished a project and was satisfied (or not) with the
results.
The mighty StarDestroyer Blagn'k slowed to below light speed in order
that Domr'k could send the statutory warning message to the inhabitants
of the planet Erith. They had to drop below light speed or the
communications accelerators would not function correctly and they would
probably arrive at their destination before the message. The message
gave the inhabitants a chance to put their case to the Justice Council.
It gave them the opportunity to avoid annihilation if they could
convince the Council that they were a viable civilisation that would be
able to enrich the common being of The Source and/or Universe. The name
'Justice Council' sounded grand and important and that's why Kratol
used it. The truth was that there wasn't a Council at all, but Kratol
believed himself to be fair and compassionate.
"Whoops!" said Domr'k.
"What do you mean. 'Whoops!'?" demanded Kratol.
"It's alright your Excellency. I have corrected my mistake."
"Your mistake? What mistake?"
"The warning message, your Excellency. I accidentally transmitted it
to the wrong planet."
"The wrong planet? There is only one planet within a radius of twenty
light years. I hope the communications accelerators didn't kick
in."
"I'm afraid they did."
"In that case, if the 'wrong' planet is within a million light years,
they will have already received the message. It will throw the entire
population into a state of chaos and anarchy. Where did you send the
message to?"
"Earth."
"Earth? Well, that's not quite so bad. The population there is already
in a state of chaos and anarchy."
"It's an easy mistake to make, your Excellency. The planet has got
such a similar name to Erith."
"You've got to be more careful. We'll just have to hope they think
it's a hoax."
"It only transmitted for a few seconds. They might not have
noticed."
"Enough! There's nothing we can do about it now."
"Yes, your Excellency."
"So. If it's not too much trouble, do you think you could send the
message to the planet Erith now?"
"Of course, your Excellency."
Domr'k took great care in feeding the correct data into the
communications computer and checked everything twice before executing
the transmission.
"It is done," said Domr'k.
The four-inch tall humanoid figure bathed in a purple glow,
materialised in the main chamber of the queen's domain and started,
dutifully, to impart its sombre message to the inhabitants of
Erith.
Erith was a beautiful planet. It was rich in the universe's most
precious resource - water - which took up nearly nine tenths of the
surface. The seas and oceans were teeming with life at all stages of
the evolutionary process. Here creatures did not leave the water to
colonise the land, maybe because it was in such short supply or perhaps
just because they preferred the vastness of the oceans.
In fact the only land dwellers on Erith arrived here quite by
accident, clinging to an asteroid which bounced off their home planet
scooping them up and depositing them here. Hardy little blighters
aren't they? With no competition from indigenous species, these land
dwellers flourished and spread across the entire landmass. They soon
adapted their diet to make the most of the varied plant life they
encountered and developed a way of farming their favourite crops. These
land dwellers resembled ants in the way they behaved socially and,
indeed, by the way they looked. If we had come across them in the
Amazonian rain forests we would have definitely declared the discovery
of a new species of ant. Because these land dwellers were alien to the
planet, Project Erith had become unstable, because life had not
developed there naturally from the primordial soup. Erith civilisation
had been contaminated by alien life forms and so the great experiment
that The Source was conducting was flawed and now Kratol and Domr'k
were being sent there to sweep it all under the cosmic carpet.
The four-inch tall humanoid figure, bathed in a purple glow was, in
fact, a holographic projection of Admiral Kratol. He decided at the
outset that he was the only one fit to deliver the message. It was,
after all, a very important message and Kratol was, in his eyes at
least, a very important being. I suppose he was a very important being
in Domr'k's eyes as well, but then, when you only hold the rank of
Space Trooper (Fourth Class), even a Braakl'gian ooze beetle was a very
important being.
"Inhabitants of Erith." the message began, "Pay heed to this message.
After all, this is a very important message."
The inhabitants of Erith didn't pay much heed to the message at all.
For one thing, the real inhabitants were too busy in the oceans running
their everyday lives to be bothered with a four-inch tall humanoid
figure, bathed in a purple glow, going on about the impending doom of
the planet. And another thing, the hologram was projected into the
queen's chamber of the alien land dwellers, so the real natives of
Erith never got to see it anyway. Sure the ant-like aliens saw the
hologram, but they didn't pay it any attention at all. They preferred
to go about the business of grazing on the plants they had farmed and
making sure the queen was doing her bit in the reproduction of their
species.
Although Kratol was convinced about the very important nature of the
message, it was hard to understand why he relied on a four-inch
hologram, projected at the planet's surface at random, to provide an
opportunity for the inhabitants of that planet to defend themselves. If
he had looked back at the past records of the message's effectiveness
in providing that opportunity, he would have seen that, out of the two
and a half thousand or so planets that he had sent it to, only four had
responded and none had been successful in their attempts to avoid
oblivion.

**********

It may be of some interest to you to know why Kratol and Domr'k are
hurtling through the cosmos laying waste to thousands of planets. They
are not merely inter-galactic vandals, far from it. As I have said
previously, they are in fact, glorified janitors in the employ of The
Source.
Here on Earth, we have always been fascinated about where we come
from. Were we created by a Supreme Being or did we evolve from simple
one-celled organisms millions of years ago? Well, I'm not one for
controversy, but I can reveal, here and now, that both schools of
thought are correct. Yes, we can have our cake and eat it. Mind you,
there would be no point having the cake in the first place if we had no
intentions of eating it.
So, all the arguments that have raged throughout the ages concerning
the origins of mankind could have been avoided. We did evolve from
one-celled organisms - but it was a Supreme Being who created them. The
Source.
You see The Source is very old, very wise, but very frustrated. They
themselves, although they are a Supreme Being, are plagued with the
same question that has been hounding us. They want to know where they
came from. Were they created by an even more Supreme Being, or did they
evolve from the lowly one-celled organism like the rest of us?
In order to try and solve this ancient riddle, The Source had created
life in it's simplest form on all planets in the universe that were
capable of sustaining it in whatever form it might develop and were
keeping a watchful eye on the evolutionary processes at work to see if
life would evolve into a carbon copy of themselves. Time was of no
concern to The Source and, as it is a man-made phenomenon anyway, they
weren't even aware of it. The only thing of importance to The Source
was finding their - well, their source! They were interested in nothing
else. Well, being a single entity, they wouldn't even be interested in
sex, would they (but I don't know that for certain, so don't quote me).
Mind you, if one of those life evolution experiments worked and created
a second Source, sex might be on the cards.
However, getting back to the plot, The Source were anxious that their
experiments were conducted under the best possible conditions and would
not tolerate interference from any outside influence. This showed a
flaw in their approach, as far as I'm concerned, but- hey - what do I
know? I'm not a Supreme Being; I'm just a writer. Far be it for me to
say that I've ever created something from nothing.
Consequently, if any project was under threat from any contamination
or even any deviation from its anticipated course, it was terminated.
Enter Kratol and Domr'k stage left. They were The Source's instrument
of termination. It was their job to roam around the universe tidying up
all the failed projects. They were damn good at it. Their brief was not
to destroy a planet wholesale, but to make it devoid of all life forms
ready for the project to be started all over again. The Source was
clear in its instructions to the two Braakl'gians, after all, it
wouldn't do to go around blasting planets out of existence. That would
upset the fine balance of the universe and would have an impact on all
the other projects. All they had to do was make sure each failed
project was cleansed and made devoid of all life, but only after the
message had been sent, in case the life forms had any reason for being
allowed to survive. Just wanting to live was never really a great
defence as the four planets that responded to those messages
discovered.

**********

Three days later, the StarDestroyer Blagn'k entered a very close orbit
around the planet Erith, its huge star-shaped hull casting a gargantuan
shadow over the world below. The communications lock had pinpointed the
exact location of Kratol's hologram, which had just finished delivering
the message. Not only was the message very important, it was also very
long. The sudden arrival of the huge craft did nothing more than arouse
a passing interest in most of the more trendy worker-ant-like beings,
but they shrugged the apparition off and continued with their daily
chores. A few of them, however, did get a little excited about it and
made up their minds to inform the queen. Domr'k announced the
StarDestroyer's arrival to his commanding officer.
"We have arrived at Erith, your Excellency."
"Domr'k, your ability for stating the obvious never fails to impress
me."
"Why, thank you, Excellency."
"Have we received any communication from the Erithians."
"Not yet, Excellency. Should we prepare to go down to the surface to
meet them face to face?"
"I don't think that would be a good idea. Remember what happened on
Gweelox 4. The mob turned rather nasty on us."
"Well, we did threaten to annihilate them, your Excellency."
"That's no excuse. We threaten to annihilate the inhabitants of all of
the planets we visit and we generally do annihilate them, but none of
the others turned nasty on us. They just accepted it and let us get on
with it. There's absolutely no reason to take things out on us. It's
not our fault if they don't know how to evolve properly."
"Quite so, Excellency."
"No, if the inhabitants of this planet can't be bothered to listen to
our message and respond to it, they deserve to be wiped out. I don't
see why I should go over it all again with them. Why do you think we
send the message ahead of us in the first place?"
"I don't know, Excellency."
"That's what I like about you Domr'k. Your complete lack of any
intelligence whatsoever. Prepare the De-populator Device. I shall be
resting in my quarters if you need me. Don't disturb me until the
Device is ready for deployment unless you hear from anyone on the
planet."
"Yes Excellency." Domr'k said as he prepared the De-populator Device
for deployment. Not that there was much preparation involved. He merely
had to flick a switch to turn it on. Then he had to wait whilst the
Device prepared itself for activation.
The De-populator Device worked on a very simple principle. Firstly, it
would scan the planet and register all life forms and then it would
analyse each one and isolate all of the requirements necessary for its
existence, for example, what it ate, what it drank, what it breathed,
etc. Then it would use the StarDestroyer's replicators to produce
chemicals that would neutralise all of those requirements. These
chemicals would then be deployed on the planet via light pulse carrier
waves as digital information which would be received and decoded by
each individual creature. Once decoded, the chemicals would act
immediately bringing every living organism on the planet to a swift and
untimely demise. Neat, don't you think?

It's amazing! For three days the four-inch tall humanoid figure,
bathed in a purple glow, went about its task of explaining what was
going to happen to life on Erith unless somebody came up with a jolly
good reason for leaving the planet in peace. For three days the
ant-like alien land dwellers dutifully ignored the hologram's very
existence. They would walk round it rather than through it, but they
were damned if they were going to listen to it. Then it stopped talking
and fizzled out. That's when the ant-like land dwellers noticed it. The
queen summoned one of her workers who happened to be near to the
hologram when it disappeared.
"What did you do to that light-being?" She demanded to know.
"Nothing, your majesty." he replied quite honestly.
The queen was quite ready to carry on with the interrogation when she
was interrupted by one heck of a commotion at the entrance to the
colony. Workers were running here, there and everywhere, excitedly
shouting things like, "It's here!" and "It's back!" as they witnessed
the arrival of the StarDestroyer Blagn'k, mistaking it for the great
asteroid that had transported their ancestors to Erith all those
centuries ago. All at once, the ant-like alien land dwellers discovered
religion.
"It's the prophecy!" cried out one of the workers with the kind of
enthusiasm that is expected when acclaiming the coming of anything
described in a prophecy.
"What prophecy?" the queen enquired, quite rightly, as there had never
been any prophecies in their culture. The workers had always been too
busy working to have the luxury of just sitting around wondering about
the universe and working out prophecies that may or may not come true.
Still, just because there hadn't been a prophecy in the past, the
workers didn't see why they couldn't have one now.
"The prophecy of the return of the asteroid!" cried a second worker
with suitable gusto for the occasion.
"Who prophesied that?" asked the queen.
"He did," said the second worker, pointing at the first worker with
his antennae, "just now."
"Well, that doesn't count. Prophecies have to be announced well before
an event occurs, otherwise it wouldn't be a prophecy, would it?" The
queen retorted. She was feeling a little uneasy at the prospect of
having her authority undermined.
"Who says?" came a voice from the crowd, which had come to a
standstill by now.
The queen was shifting about uncomfortably. She could see she was onto
a loser, but she stuck with it. "You can't have something happen and
then say, 'Oh, by the way, we knew all along that that was going to
happen.' Any fool could do that."
"But you can't deny that the prophecy has happened." said the first
worker, " Look at the sky above. There it is for all to see. The return
of the asteroid."
"Yes, I know its there," continued the queen, "but you didn't mention
anything about a prophecy until after the asteroid had arrived. How do
you account for that?" She knew she had them stumped with that one. The
whole colony gazed skyward and racked their brains for the answer. This
was a dangerous time for the queen. None of them had ever stopped to
think before. If they continued to go on like this, the next thing
they'd want to do would be to form a government.
The queen, unnerved by the sound of silence as the colony concentrated
on the problem, tried to push home her advantage and said,
"Well?"
The first worker was struck with inspiration and held his head high to
announce, "We forgot to mention it before."
"You forgot to mention it?" mused the queen, "You forgot to mention
something as important as the prophecy of the return of the
asteroid?"
"Yes. That's right. We forgot to mention it," said the second
worker.
This was met with great murmurs of approval from the other workers.
The first worker was gaining in confidence now that his newly found
memory and religion started to kick in and said, "We've been working
non-stop all our lives and we were always so busy it just slipped our
minds. But, now the prophecy has come true, I declare today a
holiday."
The crowds of workers erupted into spontaneous applause and cheering
at the prospect of having a holiday. Somewhere near the back of the
throng, one worker turned to his neighbour and said, "What the hell is
a holiday?"
"Who cares?" came the reply, "But we're having one."
The queen was right to be worried. Her subjects were starting to think
as individuals for the very first time. The normal running of the
colony ground to a halt as workers split up into groups to hear stories
of the prophecy being told by self-appointed holy men. Some workers
began to compose music and create elaborate sculptures as they
discovered the Arts; however, they were grossly under-funded. Other
small groups would sit around in circles and develop philosophies. One
of the greater minds amongst them came up with the shatteringly simple
philosophy that 'I think I am, therefore I might well be.' None of the
others had a clue what he was going on about, so they declared him to
be the greatest philosopher they had ever known.

**********

I think it's probably time to put your mind at ease about the way in
which the ant-like alien land dwellers arrived on Erith. I know you're
wondering how these creatures managed to survive the impact of an
asteroid hitting their home planet and also the endless trek across the
stars clinging to the aforementioned chunk of rock for countless
generations and, finally, how they came to be deposited on Erith
itself. At this rate, if I keep explaining everything to you, there
will be no mystery left in the universe. Of course, I can't possibly
know the exact details; I can only offer you a theory.
Have you ever been out in the garden on a summer's day, tip-toeing
merrily through the tulips, when you come across a swarm of ants
marching across the garden path? No? Well, you ought to get out more
then! Those of us who have encountered this phenomenon will,
invariably, try to kill all the little ants by crushing them underfoot.
However, no matter how hard you put your foot down, when you lift it up
again there are always one or two ants that you've missed. How, you may
ask? Easy - they were hiding in the tread on the sole of your shoe and
then came out when you lifted your foot. That is my simple theory. When
the asteroid hit the ant-like alien land dwellers' home planet, a whole
bunch of them hid amongst the cracks and crevices on the surface of the
asteroid. Obviously, because of the force of the impact, they were
probably winded and couldn't come out of hiding straight away and were
trapped on the asteroid when it bounced back into space. Of course, the
force of the impact would have meant that part of the home planet's
surface, including lots of plants, would have stuck to the asteroid, as
well, thus ensuring a source of food for the hapless creatures
kidnapped by the great rock. As for the reproduction processes required
to maintain the population aboard the asteroid as it sped across the
universe - well, I don't think I need bore you with the details of
that! The depositing of the ant-like alien land dwellers on the surface
of Erith is also easily explained.
When the asteroid bounced off their planet, its trajectory was set,
unwittingly, for a collision course with Erith. Had Erith been a planet
much less endowed with water, the asteroid would probably of hit the
surface and, because the last contact it had made with a planet had
damaged the internal structure of the asteroid, it would have shattered
into millions of pieces, killing all of its reluctant passengers.
However, when it finally did hit Erith, it touched down in the sea,
skimming along the surface like a World War II bouncing bomb, slowing
down considerably as it journeyed on. When it reached the shore, all
the ant-like alien land dwellers decided to get off the asteroid whilst
the going was good. A wise decision, because, owing to the scarcity of
land, it ended up rolling into the ocean on the other side and sank out
of sight below the waves.

**********

Life amongst the ant-like alien land dwellers had reached new levels
of spiritual attainment. In the few hours since the prophecy, they had
formulated a new society where the individual was more important than
the whole and they all revelled in their new-found freedom from the
shackles of perpetual labour. There was joy and celebrations wherever
you looked and, for the first time ever, they were experiencing
happiness.
Aboard the StarDestroyer Blagn'k, Domr'k hailed his commander on the
communicator. "It is ready, Excellency." he announced.
"I'm on my way." Kratol replied.
This was the bit that Kratol really enjoyed. This was the moment when
he assumed the role of Saviour or Destroyer. If the inhabitants of the
planet came up with a good reason for allowing them to live, he would
graciously reprieve them from their fate. If, however, like all the
rest of them, they had no excuse for evolving wrongly, he would wipe
them from existence and try not to smile whilst he was doing it. He
strode along the corridor on his way to the bridge with all the dignity
of a triumphant emperor, marching into a recently conquered city,
cursing his luck that there was no one around to see him. As he entered
the bridge, Domr'k stood up and saluted as a mark of respect and Kratol
ignored him. He marched up to the De-Populator Device and, with his
finger hovering above the activator said, "Any messages from the
planet?"
"No, Excellency."
Kratol smiled and stabbed his finger down on the activator. The
ant-like alien land dwellers below looked up as the light pulse wave
carriers shot out in all directions from the mighty
StarDestroyer/asteroid. The first worker was about to inform his fellow
creatures of the prophecy of the strange lights from the asteroid, but
was unable to impart this wondrous knowledge, because a split-second
later he, and indeed the rest of all life on Erith, ceased to be. They
no longer thought and they no longer were.
"Right." said Kratol, "Plot a course to the next planet on the list."
And then he went back to his quarters for a well-earned rest.

Three

Frogmorton Culpepper managed to wake up at the most annoying time
known to man - one minute before his alarm clock was due to go off. It
wouldn't have mattered if he had overslept by an hour, or even if he
had woken up a couple of hours early - he could have coped with that,
but that one minute deficit really made him cross. That single minute
would have made all the difference to the outcome of his dream. A mere
sixty seconds stood in the way of him climbing into the Jacuzzi with
the gorgeous, naked, Elaine Markham, the Head of Department's
twenty-six year-old, beautiful, single daughter. But wasn't that always
the way with dreams? Didn't they always end just before the good bits?
Either that or the good bits would slowly start to turn into bad bits.
Like the time when he dreamt that he was swimming with Elaine, racing
to the island in the middle of the lake, knowing that victory meant
that she would do whatever he wanted her to and how, when the shore was
in sight, he heard his mother calling him for help. She was drowning in
another part of the lake. That dream had real promise. There he was,
about to make love to the girl of his dreams whilst listening to his
dreadful mother drowning in the background - true bliss, but it wasn't
to be. His mother started to shout louder and louder until he could
bear it no longer. He awoke with a start, realising that his mother
really was calling out for help. She sounded quite distressed and so,
half an hour later, sensing that it might be urgent, he went to
investigate. The sound was coming from the bathroom. His heart sank as
he entered the bathroom and there, he was confronted by the sight of
his naked mother wedged in the bath like some bloated elephant seal
demanding that he should free her and, with the help of a bottle of
washing-up liquid and the A-frame from his garage, he did.
However, no amount of thought regarding the oddities of dreams was
going to change the situation. Frogmorton was awake and so he thought
he might as well drag himself from under the duvet. He swung his legs
out of bed and fished hopefully, with his feet, for his slippers, only
to find that Chloe had already found them. "Why can't she use a litter
tray like any other cat." he mused. He removed his foot from the damp
and smelly slipper and hopped to the bathroom to take a shower.
He liked a hot shower first thing in the morning. Mind you, with
thoughts of Elaine Markham lingering in the back of his mind, it might
have been more appropriate for him to take a cold shower.
He had fallen in love with Elaine the moment she first walked in to
the university's Environmental Technology Laboratory some six months
ago. She had all the things he was looking for in a woman - two arms,
two legs, all her own teeth. He wasn't too fussy. But then, on top of
all those basic requirements, she was gorgeous. He had spoken to her
many times about his project, Project Earth. He had told her how he
hoped one day to reverse the Greenhouse Effect and to plug the holes in
the ozone layer. Every time he saw her he would try to impress her with
his scientific know-how. He hoped that, one day, she might even take
time to listen to him.
The sad fact was that, as far as Elaine Markham was concerned,
Frogmorton Culpepper didn't exist and, if he did, he was probably that
funny little laboratory assistant chap who swept up in the lab. Still,
Frogmorton didn't allow any of these thoughts to dampen his enthusiasm.
He knew that, when the postman came and delivered his exam results and
when the Dean gave him a research post in the Environmental Technology
Department, then he would stand a real chance with Elaine. He let his
mind wander as he smothered shower gel all over his puny body. He
imagined what it would be like conducting all those earth-shattering
environmental experiments with Elaine at his side offering assistance
and the occasional kiss on the back of the neck. He lingered over the
last thought for a little longer than he intended and couldn't help
noticing that he was lathering up the shower gel on a certain part of
his anatomy with much vigour and gusto. Just as he was about to
complete his soap-frenzy the bathroom door was flung open and in
marched his mother who flung down the toilet seat, flung up her nightie
and deposited her carcass onto the aforementioned seat with an
ear-splitting display of anal music in the form of a military
fanfare.
"Mother!" Frogmorton protested, "Do you mind? I'm in the
shower."
"What of it? Nnnngh!" She replied, "You haven't - nnngh! got anything
I haven't seen before."
"That's not the point."
"I've seen plenty in my time - and not just your father's. Randy old
devil he was," this she said to the accompaniment of the unfinished
concerto for derriere and other wind instruments.
"Will you just hurry up and do what you've got to do and leave me in
peace?" Frogmorton pleaded, "I would like to take a shower without
interruptions from you."
"If you found a decent girl and got married, you wouldn't get
interrupted by me."
"I couldn't count on it."
"It's not natural, a boy of your age - single."
"Alright, mum! I'll see what I can do. If you'll only vacate the
bathroom and let me finish this shower."
"I haven't finished yet. You'll just have to wait - nnnngh!"
Despite performing some very difficult orchestral pieces, Frogmorton's
mother was unable to complete the first movement and, amidst a flurry
of toilet tissue and thunderous applause from the cistern, she took her
bow and left the room.

**********
Isn't plumbing fascinating? In fact, it is so fascinating that some
people devote their entire lives to it. These people are called
plumbers. No, that's not their name, that's their profession. They are
so devoted to their work that they are always busy. No matter how great
the emergency, they can never attend a call out until "at least a week
on Tuesday, at the earliest." And they are perfectionists. They would
never dream of mending any piece of equipment if they could replace it.
Of course, it would be wrong of me to say that all plumbers are that
devoted to their work and some of them might take exception to this
generalisation and be writing to their solicitors at this very minute.
So don't imagine, next time you call the plumber out and he says "I
can't come round until next week." that the delay has any relation to
how devoted he is to his profession. They can't all be expected to be
martyrs to their trade. Anyway, enough about plumbers. Let's
concentrate on the main point - plumbing.
Have you ever noticed that plumbing is, without exception,
temperamental? The older the plumbing, the more grumpy it becomes. You
can't even empty the sink without the pipes groaning about the task of
carrying the used water down to the sewer. Also, no matter how hard it
tries, it has great difficulty in mixing hot water with cold to provide
running water that is a comfortable temperature for the human body to
tolerate. Mixer taps, especially in older systems, can be a nightmare.
Swilling your hands can take up to fifteen minutes just to get the mix
right. Then, just as you manage to get the temperature exactly right,
what happens? Yes, someone turns on a tap somewhere else in the house
(or even somewhere else in the street with some systems) and all the
balancing between hot and cold goes down the drain - you end up getting
scalded. The same thing happens in the shower if someone flushes the
toilet.

**********

"Aaaaargh!" Frogmorton squealed with an enormous amount of passion as
he leaped out of the boiling shower. He stepped onto a wet patch and
felt his feet slide from underneath him. He let out another yell as he
performed a double back somersault, ending up in an untidy heap on the
floor. He lay there for a few moments, making sure that the room
wouldn't attack him again, but then, before he could regain his
composure, the bathroom door swung open again and his mother tossed in
a hefty envelope which landed on his manhood in a far from friendly
manner.
"Postman's been." his mother informed him and then she turned and left
the bathroom, leaving behind the lost chord in her wake.
This was it. This was what Frogmorton had been waiting for - his
results. If they were good enough he could make a name for himself in
the world of environmental technology. He would be taken seriously at
last. Why, he might even receive government funding to continue his
Project Earth on a larger scale. Good Lord! He could even envisage a
Nobel Prize.
Frogmorton studied the envelope in great detail, turning it this way
and that, the way most of us do when we receive mail, looking intensely
at the outside of the envelope in the vain belief that this will
somehow reveal the contents to us. After studying it this way for about
ten minutes, Frogmorton realised that the only way he was going to be
able to read the contents of the envelope was to open it and so he did.
For some strange reason, the ability for him to read and understand the
English language disappeared. The text became blurred and
indecipherable. Then he realised that water was dripping on to the
paper from his body dissolving the ink where it fell. He quickly
grabbed a towel and dried himself off before continuing to read his
mail. He read swiftly through the preamble and soon got to the
important bit. Yes. There it was in black and white. He had passed. He
now had a degree. He could put letters after his name. More
importantly, he could now approach the Dean for a real job.
Frogmorton jumped to his feet excitedly and ran from the bathroom,
frantically waving his piece of paper for all to see. He ran into the
kitchen and announced in a loud voice, "Look what I've got!"
Now, you must remember that our hero had dashed straight from the
bathroom floor to the kitchen and, therefore, was as naked as the day
he was born. His mother was noticeably unimpressed with the arrival of
her naked son into the room. After all, didn't she herself admit to
having seen plenty in her time? Unfortunately, Mrs. Douglas from next
door, who had come to partake of morning coffee with Frogmorton's
mother, was not so well travelled and, despite having had six children,
had never set eyes on the male reproductive organ in her life before.
Consequently, Frogmorton's sudden arrival in the kitchen, shouting,
"Look what I've got!" came as something of a shock to the poor woman.
Not realising that Frogmorton was referring to the piece of paper in
his hand, Mrs. Douglas took stock of Frogmorton's prowess, let out a
shriek that would have made a banshee proud and fled hysterically from
the house, not looking back once.
Frogmorton's mother looked on incredulously as Mrs. Douglas ran into
the road causing several vehicles to swerve dangerously and said,
"Hasn't that silly cow seen a letter before?"
"I've passed!" Frogmorton cried, unperturbed by the Mrs. Douglas
incident, but only because he had been so engrossed in his own good
news that he hadn't even noticed her.
"Passed what?" His mother enquired.
"My exam."
"What exam?"
"Mother!" Frogmorton said, feeling quite upset by her apparent lack of
understanding of the entire issue, "Don't you pay any attention to me
at all? My Open University exam. I've passed it and now I've got a BA.
Do you know what that means?"
"Bugger all?"
"It's a Bachelor of Arts degree!"
"I never knew you wanted to be an artist."
"I don't."
"Then why have you got a degree in Art?"
"I haven't got a degree in Art. I've got a degree in
technology."
"You just said you've got a Bachelor of Arts degree."
"Yes that's right, but in technology."
"I didn't know you could do painting."
"I can't."
"Well what sort of art is 'technology' then?"
"It isn't any sort of 'art' - it's a sort of 'science'!"
If Frogmorton's mother wasn't confused up to this point, his last
statement really did it for her. She furrowed her brow and thought long
and hard before coming up with the following question, "Why haven't you
got a Bachelor of Science degree then?"
The moment had been lost. Frogmorton realised that no matter how much
he explained the situation, his mother would never grasp the concept
and, even if she did, she probably wouldn't even care.
"Never mind." he said as he turned and headed back to the bathroom to
get a towel to dry himself properly.
His mother called out after him, "With a bum like that you shouldn't
have much trouble finding yourself a wife. Your father had a bum like
yours. Randy old sod, he was."
Frogmorton went into the bathroom, picked up a towel and took it into
his bedroom to dry himself off. What the hell was his mother going on
about? Her words echoed around his head - "With a bum like that you
shouldn't have much trouble finding yourself a wife." How on earth
would that help? He could just see it now. Him walking into the
Environmental Technology lab, sidling up to Elaine Markham and dropping
his trousers so that she could appreciate the finer points of his
posterior. Yes, very impressive. How could she resist?
It's not as if Frogmorton didn't want to get married. In fact he quite
relished the idea, not least because it would be an escape from his
mother. It was not the sort of thing he ought to rush into though. He
had to make sure that the woman that he chose to spend the rest of his
life with was the right one. What a ghastly mistake it would be if his
wife turned out to be as bad as his mother. The more he thought about
it, the more he was sure that Elaine Markham was the one. All he had to
do now was convince her that he was the right one for her. That was
going to be the hardest bit.
Frogmorton finished drying his important little places and tossed the
wet towel into the washing basket and then got dressed and went down
for breakfast.
"Boiled eggs, this morning." his mother informed him as he sat down at
the breakfast table.
He was just about to reach for his spoon when his mother said, "Hold
on." and then she picked up his egg spoon and proceeded to insert the
handle of it into her ear.
"What are you doing?" Frogmorton asked in wonderment.
"I've got a bit of wax I need to shift." She explained, digging deeper
and deeper with the spoon handle.
Frogmorton got up from the table and began to brush his hair.
"Aren't you going to eat this egg?" his mother asked.
"I'm not feeling that hungry anymore."
"I'll have it then." his mother said, "I'd hate to see it going to
waste."
"I thought you didn't like eggs."
"Oh, I like eggs. Trouble is they give me wind."
Frogmorton's mother removed the spoon handle from deep within her
cranium, wiped it clean on her petticoat and then started to devour the
egg.
"Have you seen Chloe this morning?" Frogmorton enquired.
"Yes." His mother replied, spraying albumen and yolk across the table,
"She was in here earlier with a dead thing. I put it in the microwave
for her."
When his mother mentioned the microwave, it reminded him of the
incident the previous night, when he imagined he had seen a tiny purple
alien creature in there.
"Really?" Frogmorton said, "Did you notice anything odd about
it?"
"About what? Chloe, the dead thing or the microwave?"
"The microwave."
"Not that I know of." said Frogmorton's mother, "Should I have?"
"You didn't notice anything inside it?"
"Only the dead thing and I put that there. What's this all leading
to?"
"Probably nothing. Only last night I could have sworn that I saw
something purple in there."
"You ought to clean it out more often."
Sensing that the conversation was going nowhere, the usual route it
took when his mother was involved, Frogmorton said no more and left for
work, making sure that he had his exam results with him.