The Adventures of... \_____
____ \___ For 80-column fixed-pitch displays
_mWWMWMMMmmw__ \___________ (c) Colin McEwan
wWM0^ ^^"P" \______ May 1996
,#W#^ \___ Issue 8
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(and his menial assistant, Kevin)
Deep in the labyrinthe bowels of Captain Prat's secret subterranean
fortress, a scream hf anguish, hf desperation, a scream of intense
frustration reverberates round the tunnels and passageways. It's echoes die
slowly and painfully, until eventually there is silence.
Kevin> Now, that has punch, and it's original too.
Captain Prat> Oh, so now you're suggesting I use "AAAAAAARGHHHHHHHH!!!" as
a catch-phrase? You've lost it. Try and understand this. I am no
longer looking for a catch-phrase. Got that? When I say something,
consider it as conversation, not as a prospective catchprase.
Kevin> Too long, doesn't quite have... Oh, you mean you're not suggesting
catchphrases anymore?
Captain Prat> Precisely. I've got through to you at last! Now, come on, we
have to find out about that top-secret military project that was
stolen.
Kevin> Hey, yeah! I'd almost forgotten about that!
Captain Prat> Let's go: to the PratMobile, Kevin!
The lights flick on in the PratGarage, and from a large, colourful and
well-polished 'chute slide Kevin and CP.
Kevin> That was fun! Can we do it again!
Captain Prat> Later. Let's get going. You get the garage doors, I'll start
the car.
With a growl, the PratMobile shakes itself awake, and CP revs it a little to
warm it up. Kevin presses a prominent red button on the rock face of the
wall, and the garage doors slide open.
Kevin> I still wish you'd picked a more respectable car. I mean, I would be
happy with anything else, ANYTHING. I mean, okay it's a nice enough
car, but it's the reputation of the manufacturers I don't like.
Captain Prat> Hey! I'll not hear a word against the Bavarian Motor Works.
They make a good, solid car. And besides, it's so me. Let's hit
the road.
And in a screech of tyres and a chorus of car horns, the flourescent green
BMW hurtles out into the city traffic.
Meanwhile, in the parking lot of a truck-stop just outside Ditchwater City,
three dubious-looking characters swarm around a large containter truck, with
several buckets of whitewash and a handful of paint brushes and rollers. The
shortest, dumpiest, most besuited of the three takes his cigar from his
mouth, and attempts to instil some order.
Henry The Cockroach> Okay, boys, gather round. Now, we've got to paint
this truck, see? Because if we don't, the words "Top Secret Military
Research Project" are gonna be there on the side of it for all the
world to see, see?
Number One> Okay, boss. Paint the truck. Yeah.
Number Two> Paint it, yeah.
Henry The Cockroach> Now get to work, boys. If you want me, I'll be in
the diner over there, see? I have some business to attend to.
Henry The Cockroach sticks his cigar back into his face, and makes his way
across the parking lot to the diner, pausing only to look back at the truck,
with which Numbers One and Two are already busying themselves. "op Secret
Military Research Project".
By now, hur main man (and his everpresent major subman) have arrived at
their destination. An innocuous-looking office on the ground floor of a tall
office block close by one of Ditchwater's busiest shopping areas.
Attendant> Hello, this is the Ditchwater City Citizen's Advice Bureau.
How may I help you?
Captain Prat> Yes, my good man, I need information. Information of a
highly sensitive nature. Information which, if it fell into the
wrong hands, could surely be the undoing of us all.
Attendant> Ah, I'm sorry, I can't help you. I have, honestly, no idea
when the new Kylie Minogue album is out. You're the third person
who's asked this morning. You want to be asking in a record shop for
that, I would reckon.
Captain Prat> Kylie Min...? Oh no, she hasn't, has she?
Attendant> 'Fraid so, sir. Was on Top of The Pops and everything. Could
be the end of civiliastion as we know it. Now, would that be all, or
is there anything else I can be helping you with?
Captain Prat> Ah, yes. I was actually wondering if you could give me any
information on this top-secret military research project that's been
stolen. You see, we're sort of... well, superheroes, kind of, and we
were sort hf hoping to, err... find it, basically.
Attendant> But why?
Captain Prat> That's a very good question, and I'm glad you asked it.
Kevin, answer the man.
Kevin> Umm... Err... Is it, umm, 1066? Ah, no, hold on, it's... a muscle
found in the lower leg of horses?
Captain Prat> Oh come on, Kevin, can't you remember?
Kevin> No. Tell us, then, if you're so smart.
Captain Prat> Why certainly, it's because... uh... It had something to do
with, like, good and evil, and stuff, and, err, terrible danger
and... That's beside the point. The point is: can you help us.
Assistant> That'd be a top-secret thingie, wouldn't it? Sorry, can't
help you 'm'fraid. You'd best be asking the army or something, I
would guess.
Captain Prat> So, what you're saying is that you can't help us, correct?
Assistant> That's about the size of it, sir.
Captain Prat> "Can't" help us, or "won't" help us? ANSWER ME!
Elsewhere in Ditchwater City, people other than Captain Prat were demanding
answers. Answers to questions of even greater importance, questions close to
the hearts and minds of the people of Ditchwater City. For example, over at
the Ditchwater City General Hospital...
Nurse Saunders> Are you quite comfortable, Your Lordship? Would you
like another pillow? How about a nice glass of hot lemon?
Mayor Jennings> No, I'm fine, thankbth. Ib my perbonal abthithtant
there?
Nurse Saunders> Your assistant? Yes, he's right outside. I'll show
him in, shall I?
Mayor Jennings nods, and Nurse Saunders leaves the plush private ward,
motioning on her way past to the dark-suited, silk cravatted man waiting
outside the door, who enters the ward, closing the door softly behind
him.
Mister Smyth> Hello, Your Lordship. Any improvement in your condition at
all?
Mayor Jennings> Nodt really. I'd neber really nodithed how nabthty a
really bad cold cann be. It thuckth.
Mister Smyth> It can be a real pain. I think I'm coming down with one
myself. Anyway, what can I do for you?
Mayor Jennings> Thith tob thecret milidary rebtherch prodjedct
thingie thatdth been thtolen. Ib id anythind tdo woryy adbout?
Mister Smyth> Oh no, it's perfectly harmless, probably, nothing to worry
about at all, I'm sure.
Mayor Jennings> Sdo why ib id tob thecret?
Mister Smyth> Oh, you know the military. They get a kick out of keeping
things secret.
Mayor Jennings> Soddy 'bout dat...
But back at the C.A.B., Captain Prat was busy proving that one of the few
things more difficult than removing nasty stains from a silk cravate is
extracting information on the nature and, if possible, whereabouts of a top
secret military research project from an otherwise amiable and helpful
civil servant...
Captain Prat> Okay, we'll go over this one more time. Now, we're looking
for information on the nature and, if possible, wherabouts of a top
secret military research project. CAN YOU HELP US??!!!
Assistant> Look, for the zillionth time, I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!
Captain Prat> TELL US, YOU INSIGNIFICANT WORM!!!
Kevin> Don't worry, we don't want to hurt you.
Captain Prat> Not unless you force us to, ha-ha, ha-ha!
Assistant> I'm sorry, but I really don't know anything about it. It's
top-secret, remember? Now, I can appreciate that you really need to
find hut, and I have pointed you in the direction of several
potential information sources, so are the hundred watt lamp and the
handcuffs, and the chair and stuff, are they all strictly neccesary?
Kevin> Well, admittedly, it may seem a little extreme, but... fair enough.
Captain Prat, can I speak with you for a moment?
Kevin pulls CP over to one side, and fixes him with a level expression.
Kevin> He has a point, you know. I mean, it IS a bit extreme, don't you
think? Why would anyone tell him anything about it? Poor bloke, he'd
hardly have expected the spanish inquisition, would he?
Captain Prat> Ah, but nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!
Kevin> No, Monty Python used that one.
Captain Prat> Yes, I KNOW that, but... oh, it doesn't matter. Okay, point
taken. It is a little harsh, I suppose. Besides, we're just wasting
time, when we could be cruelly interrogating someone who definitely
does know.
Kevin> Good. Just one other thing: next time, *I* get to play the bad cop.
Kevin and Captain Prat turn back to the assistant, and try not to look too
sheepish.
Captain Prat> Baaah... Err, I mean, uh, Sorry to have inconvenienced you,
and please accept our profuse apologies, and this small token of our
esteem.
Assistant> Oooh! A genuine Captain Prat mug! Why, thank-you. I'll
treasure it always.
Kevin> Yeah, we're sorry to have troubled you.
Assistant> No trouble, I'm only sorry I couldn't have been more help.
Have a nice day!
Take a handful of grease, and a spoon, coat the latter in the former, and
you're looking at something which bears absolutely no resemblance to what
our fiendish villains are currently sitting in, but which a lot of us would
call by the same name...
Henry The Cockroach> So, boys, what's ya having? My treat, see?
Number Two> Can I have an omelette, boss?
Henry The Cockroach> Sure you can, since you did such a good job on the
truck, see? Howzabout you, Number One?
Number One> An omelette would be nice, boss.
Henry The Cockroach> Okay, hey, waiter! Two omelettes, okay? Good. Stick
it on the tab.
Number One> So what's IN the truck, boss?
Number Two> Yeah, tell us, boss, tell us!
Henry The Cockroach> A-ha, now that'd be telling, wouldn't it. But what I
can tell yas,..
The crooked cockroach-like character leans across the table and glances
around,..
Henry The Cockraoch> ...is that it's something that's going to make me, I
mean US, very rich indeed.
Number Two> Gee, boss! How?
Number One> Yeah, how?
Henry The Cockroach> In that truck is something with power. Immense
power. Horrific power. And we're gonna use it in the way that's
gonna get us the most money.
Number One> Are we gonna raid Fort Knox?
Number Two> Or the First National Bank?
Number One> Or are we going to bust into the City vaults?
Henry the Cockroach> No, you fools. We're gonna use this thing by NOT
using it. We're gonna hold the entire city to ransom. And if they
don't give us what we want, we use the top secret military research
project, and we just waltz into town and TAKE what we want!
And speaking of top-secret military research projects, our heroes are, as we
speak, at a top-secret military installation and research lab, (whose
whereabouts is so secret that they only advertise their visitor centre on
The Fishing Channel on local cable TV. Secret indeed, my
friends...), and have just found someone who definitely does know about the
top secret military research project.
Captain Prat> So, General, what you're saying is, in essence, this: that
you know what the top secret military reseach project was and what
it's capable of, you have a suspicion of who took it, but you're not
going to tell me, yes?
General Iastion> Correct, soldier! And that's "Yes, Sir"!
Captain Prat> How many times do I have to tell you, I'm a civillian, I
don't have to call you 'sir'.
General Isation> So how come you call yourself 'Captain' Prat?
Captain Prat> Because... Well, it's a sort of general captaincy. I can
sail a dinghy... It's not really a title, it's just... a name,
really... Kevin?
Kevin> It doesn't really matter, does it? Oh, by the way General, do you
have a mains electrical socket somewhere handy where I can plug in
this hundred watt spot-lamp?
General Isation> Just over there by that chair.
Kevin> Hey, that's convenient.
Captain Prat> Hold on, Kevin. Is this really such a good idea. I mean,
there are people with guns around here. Even worse, SOLDIERS with
guns!
Kevin> You're right. Let's just get hut of here. Where did I leave my
ring-binder? Oh, right, here it is. Okay, let's go.
Captain Prat> Well, General, thanks very much for your help. Sorry to
trouble you. We'll be off now. 'Bye.
General Isation> Nave a nice day!
Out in the street, Captain Prat and Kevin climb into the PratMobile, and
start on their way home.
Kevin> Hey, what's this in my folder? That wasn't there before. I can't
read it, it must be some sort of code...
Wow, this really IS getting exciting! Top secret military research projects,
and now plots to hold the whole of Ditchwater to ransom, and coded
documents? It's all too much. I'm going to have to go and have a lie
down...
[CMcE> But before that, a cryptic message: Paul Hardcastle II ]
"The Adventures of Captain Prat", written by Colin McEwan, is FreeWare, and
as such may be freely copied and distributed, providing it is not altered,
and no profit is made by it's distribution. All other rights reserved.
Comments, etc. to CMcE, 11 Helen Way, Alexandria, G83 9PJ, Scotland or mcewanca@dcs.gla.ac.uk or 9502940m@student.gla.ac.uk
... ...
