Murdoch's the name, teleportation's the game.


Sitting back, relaxing, in my teleporter recliner (circa 1910 by La’League), as cool as the silky smoke from my fat roll of Cuban weed.

Life in this quadrant is good. Cool and good.

All I have to do right now is be cool. Cool because I am on a mission.


Yes, I know what you’re thinking ...

Well no. What the hell are you thinking?...The mission? ...


Oh yes. My mission is to press this button on my Time Warp Reclinator.


Why? ...


Because that’s what we do, us ...the prodigious protectors of all things cool and good, eliminators of evil.

So watch as I press this b...

...gadzooks, wrong damn button!


I staggered forward, cool as a cucumber on a barbecue grill, and there in the mist which always appears in timewarp scenes, was...OMG...no, it couldn’t be. But yes it was. As the schmuck cleared, there before me was my villainous old archeological cronie Arnold Grindenburger, purveyor of finely swindled ‘objet de fabriques’. Yes, we had met in the previous time zone within quadrant ZZ OGGILOG, with full 3 phase energisers supplied by Meridian. I had just stumbled upon some ancient occular plasmatic carvings dating back to pre-Neolithic times prior to the introduction of steam, and it was greedy Grindenburger who had weaselled the carvings from under my very feet.

He stood before me, one eye attempting desperately to cast itself in my direction, the other notoriously noted for its entire lack of cohesive control, which caused me to recoil somewhat (well alright, quite a bit really) with understandable revulsion.

“Grindenburger! You old scientophonic imbecile. I never thought to see the likes of your ...

your form ever again. Now listen here you...you haemotonic idiot, I need you to get me back to these co-ordinates. Look here they are complete with GST.”

Luckily Grindenburger remembered his rank and jerked rigidly to attention, causing his
wayward eye to dispense itself into my emergency ration of Cup-o-Soup, whereupon he half examined the authorisation code for the co-ordinates in quadrant ZQ 04 PEED ZAKe. He then suggested two possible medical solutions.

”Take these intergalactic sedentacious rocks and process them through your
Prosonic Inculation device. This will then regulate their modulus-of-elasticity somewhat so that you can take each one twice a day.”

”Alternatively you can get stuffed”.

With an understandable amount of relief I finally unstuffed myself and exited the departure gate at ZQ 04. But I was content. Yes, once again cool and content that I had successfully smuggled three of the aforementioned 20kg sedentaciously artful objects out from under Grindenburger’s nefariously challenged eyesight. I had them skilfully and inconspicuously concealed within my Nike-labelled leather underpants.

 

At the Arrivals Hall however, my dearest Mrs Capt. Lara Enid Gertrundle Murdoch was not at all deceived by the concealment, but did look somewhat deflated upon discovering the nature of my procurement.




© Ashley Grant, for Lightwave Gallery 2013