| As Incapable and Earwax rushed around madly for no apparent reason, one by one the other porno crazed space beavers fell subject to the long sleep. The Captain and his trusty sidekick were alerted to the situation and rushed up the hill to the rather spooky house on top of the hill: previous owner Stephen King. �What happened Sheriff?� asked Incapable. �I�m not the Sheriff, I�m the pool boy you idiot! Sheriff�s over there.� The Captain paced over to the real Sheriff and repeated his question. �Space beaver�s are gone. Good riddance, they tore down the T.V. ariel. Go get something to eat, this case is closed,� said the Sheriff. �Well, that was quickly sorted out, but that�s always the way with our adventures isn�t it Earwax,� said the Captain. �Yeah, yeah, whatever, let�s eat!� Our two intrepid heroes paced it down the hill and walked into the butcher/cafe. Rather strange I know, but these situations are just a bunch of crap shoved together. The Captain and Earwax sat down at their table and ordered two specials. �Two specials comin� up,� grunted the green goo stained butcher. After a whole series of cracks, slops and all icky sounds imaginable, the butcher came slipping out the kitchen, or arrangement of cardboard boxes as it actually was and served up our heroes meals. They were just about to dig in to the pile of what was known as food when the Captain noticed that both meals had space beaver tails and the side salad contained numerous skimpy space garments. �Wait a minute! What the hell is going on here!� shouted the Captain. �I expect to be given napkins with my meal!� The butcher padded over and handed them a couple of rags from behind the toilet. �Bon appetite!� muttered the butcher. He walked away. �Er, Captain,� said Earwax boy quietly. �Not now. Can�t you see I�m trying to butter this swimming costume!� �No! Listen you fool! These are those god awful space beaver punks, the butcher cooked them!� �And a damn fine job he did too!� replied Incapable. �Do you ever get tired of listening to your own stupidity?� asked Earwax boy. �What are you implying?� �Come on! Let�s nab the butcher!� shouted Earwax. �What for?� asked a bemused and confused Captain. �Painting his nails with the wrong shade of pink. For nailing those spiteful tosser, mean-ass beavers!� �O.K. Let�s get him!� shouted the Captain. Then, with all the pizzazz of a traffic warden, our two intrepid superheroes leapt out of their seats and pounced after the butcher. But he was too fast, he ran, surprisingly fast for a fat arse and pegged it into the back room of his butcher shop, so that was the extra big Angus �R� Us box behind the stack of crap which he called his shop. �Damn! He�s locked the door!� shouted the Captain. �It�s made out of cardboard for god�s sake, just kick it in!� moaned Earwax. Incapable stuck his foot through the cardboard door and they burst in to find a tardis like situation, ripped off many a time before, this situation was right out of something weird, I guess. �You�ll never stop me now!� uttered the mad butcher. �Oh yeah...well...yo mama!� shouted Incapable. And so began the slagging match between the butcher and the Captain, opportunely leaving a huge amount of time to allow Earwax boy to hatch a plan, draw a diagram, then build a scaled model, sleep on it for a few days and then finally, his plan was ready. Earwax stepped behind the butcher and pulled a leaver, releasing a tank full of beaver sweat all over him. �AHHH! I�m melting, I�m melting!� yelped the stinking butcher. �God shut up! You�re just rolling around in beaver sweat, it�s not acid or something!� yelled Incapable. �It IS acid you idiots, you pulled the other wrong lever!� �Damn! And that was my best laid plan! This small English mouse helped me concoct it,� said Earwax. And so, the butcher melted away into something as our two intrepid superloosers stumbled off into the sunset, until they realised it was just a bill board. |