Last Week as You Recall…
The Frenchman's dirty foreign fingers closed around the radio, which was lying on the table, behind the teapot.
Right were he had left it.
The Frenchman collapsed further, taking the radio with him to the floor. He lay on the grime-encrusted floor, not caring what is was that he was lying in. His mind was more preoccupied by the shooting pains in his head where the Legopolian had hit him with a pipe, and the gentler, throbbing, pains in the back of his knees where the Legopolian had kicked him. He remembered spitting something from the posters at them, which on reflection may not have been the best idea.
This was not turning out to be the kind of life the posters had advertised.
He pulled himself, painfully, into a sitting position, he was sitting in a corner of The Undercity, a maze of pipes and tunnels that made up the majority of Legopolis' sewage, heating and air needs. He had carved out this little corner of it months ago, and it provided him with all the necessities. It also was the perfect spot to spy on the mayor of Legopolis, the illustrious Captain James Brown, and divine the best time for the french to strike! Crushing these dirty foreigners with the swift hand of Democracy!
At least that's what the posters said. There was a lot of propaganda about Democracy, and about how the Legopolians, being subjects of a tyranny, were things to be rescued! And pitied! And shown the way of Democracy!
The Frenchman remembered his duty to his fellow officers, and radioed them about the mad Legopolian, and his girlfriend, who was named something foreign, like 'terrace'.
His team filled him in on their encounter with the piratical Legopolian in black, who had somehow rescued the Captain, and had disappeared up some vent.
The Frenchman cursed, and ordered his team to give chase.
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| -=fig. 392: gun battle on the ladders=- |
The mad Frenchman, screaming like a banshee, obviously seized by madness and patriotic pride, ran up the ladder of the tiny passage, Louis tried not to hurt the man too badly, despite the heavy gunfire the man was exuding, most of it aimed at Louis himself, but it's so hard to control these things, in the heat of battle, and the mad Frenchman fell dead over the railings and
Down,
Down,
Down.
Louis didn't have time to reflect on this, and the horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he himself was killed moments later by the second Frenchman. The one right behind the mad one. Dr. Smith, who had somehow fallen to the rear of their little group, heard the wet sound of the impact, but it was too late. Louis had fallen, like the mad Frenchman before him, to his further death over the thin railings of the ladders. Capt. Brown, who was just ahead of Dr. Smith, pushed open a hatch in the ceiling, and pulled Dr. Smith up after him. They came out into the sunlight, for the first time in what felt like days but what {in all likelihood} had only been hours. They were on the roof of the Capitol building, a fine piece of James-era architecture.
Birds were singing, the sun was shining and from their vantage point above the city they could see the valiant Legopolian troops fighting off the vile French invaders,
And for the most part failing.
There was a plane flying overhead.
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| -=fig. 393: the dynamite stick of democracy=- |
According to the radio reports this was the 'Capitol' building, seat of the vile tyranny that plagued this tiny nation. The Frenchman lit the dynamite stick of democracy, and dropped it through the clouds to the highly architecturally significant building below.
-=Best Regards=-
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Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.
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Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.
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I could have sworn I published this one already.
ReplyDeleteLuckily I don't swear.
-Sir.