Leprechauns, Hedgehogs and Semicircles...Have Absolutely Nothing To Do With This Story

The air on Kloom B was surprisingly wet for this time of year. Usually the air was dry and contained a faint scent of mustiness often encountered in old wardrobes that haven’t been opened in some years. And when they eventually are opened the opener is swallowed by a mound of musty old clothes which foist the strange aroma of mustiness and ancient moth balls onto the openers own clothes, causing them to hide those clothes in a wardrobe which in time will become old and musty and the whole vicious cycle will repeat again.

Therefore it is understandable why all of the inhabitants of Kloom B were happy and rejoicing that for the first time in twelve years, their summer, or what planet Earth inhabitants would call summer, didn’t make their world smell like their grandparents closet.

Instead, as previously stated, the air this summer was wet, and, as not previously stated, the air was so wet and thick that it became much like bubble blowing liquid. So much like it, in fact, that one sneeze or burp would cause the air surrounding the sneeze or burp to erupt in bubbles. This caused a few problems for the inhabitants of Kloom B (known as Kloombeans) as when the days on Kloom B were windy the air outside consisted of constant streams of bubbles, making it impossible for the Kloombeans to partake in any outdoor activities.

Nevertheless, the Kloombeans were a very happy people this summer.

One of these very happy Kloombeans was none other that Reginald Colonel Snuff who was a fine specimen of Presidential authority. The main reason for him being a fine specimen of Presidential authority was because as he was president, anything he said went. Therefore, if he thought he was a fine specimen of Presidential authority, which he did, then by golly his people had better believe it as well.

He lived at the lowest part of his very hilly land, purely because he figured that instead of him, as president and leader of this land, looking over his people, his people should all look over and protect him. And what better way to do that, he thought, then by having all of his people look out of their windows from the top of the hills, and down at him. What a jolly good idea, he had thought.

On one particularly bubbly morning, Reginald Snuff was out in his front garden pruning away at his pretty Kolli flowers which were in full bloom this season. He was pruning away with two hands while his other two were busy scratching his head and holding his glass of cold beverage.

Prune, prune, prune. He thought. Snip, snip, snip.

He glanced up at his hilly land. A woman he knew as Mrs Oggwalf, a woman with only two arms instead of four, was storming towards his house angrily.

Prune, prune, prune. He went.

He glanced up again. Mrs Oggwalf was closer this time.

Snip, snip, snip.

“SNUFF!” she called out.

“My dear Mrs Oggwalf!” Snuff stood up and extended his four arms graciously. “What a pleasure to see you again. How is that young lad of yours doing? Keeping out of trouble, I hope?”

He chuckled.

“That’s exactly what I’m here to talk to you about!” she yelled. “Why is it that your security team of your space-car station has failed to catch my intruding son, yet again?”

“I, I don’t know what you mean…” he said uneasily.

“I got a call five minutes ago from your security team. It seems my son has made off with one of your space-cars last night. Said he was going to the blue-green planet.”

“Ah, I see.” he frowned. “Well, at least he’s having an adventure! Which is more than I can say for his friends. They’re off vandalising buildings and trampling trees. Thrilling stuff!”

He grinned at Mrs Oggwalf, who, failing to see the humour in the situation, glared at him with crossed arms.

“Right,” he said awkwardly, “Well, I’ll uh, I’ll get my security team to go fetch him hastily then.”