Umpwiffle snored.
The previous nights events had proved a little too much for this tired Trungler. He was presently enjoying a moment of peace and quiet, his mind filled with a re-assuring blackness, no thoughts came or went. Umpwiffle was temporarily happy.
Yet something began knocking on the door of Umpwiffle’s mind. The mysterious something guessed that no-one was home and a hazy shadow slipped through the keyhole. Once inside, it started to grow, forming vivid pictures, filled with all the colours of the spectrum. Then, as if someone had released the pause button, they all began to move. The shapes grew voices that were painfully loud and shrill. Umpwiffle’s mind was invaded by a multitude of noise and figures which were now dancing in a circle. Each dancing shape held a bunch of blossoming Fogflops and at regular intervals they began blowing their seeds all over the inside of his head.
‘Aaa-aaa-Chew!’ blasted the unsuspecting Umpwiffle and awoke to find himself face to foot with Tolita.
‘Perhaps that will make you think twice about napping when there’s work to be done,’ she laughed triumphantly, tightly holding the lid on the cone shaped container which she held carefully in one hand. ‘There’s a whole field of Fogflops in here,’ she continued, ‘just so you don’t get any more clever ideas’. There was more than a hint of smugness in her voice.
Tolita knew most creatures weaknesses. It was a shame for Umpwiffle that he was allergic to Fogflops and that every time he caught a sniff he sneezed so hard that his head nearly turned inside out.
The Judgess frowned as she watched the snivelling fool shuffle back to his bench. Feeling the eyes burning into the back of his head, Umpwiffle dutifully commenced noting down and then storing away the bizarre collection of materials which were situated on his work-top. Tolita shifted her attention to take in the entire surroundings of her productivity workshop. There were ninety-two Trunglers in all, each with their own job, designed to make the operation successful. Next to some Trunglers benches were wooden boxes - exactly like those stolen from the Moloks earlier that morning, except now they were empty.
Tolita understood power.
