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Book: Hippies
Chapter 10: Thick Carpet of Vomit

Ross, Pan and Peter were running down yet another of the Lentil Seed’s damp and dismal passageways.

Ross made an astute observation. “The design of this ship is a fuckin’ nightmare.”

Peter was still brandishing his battle knife. “Can’t argue with you there.”

Pan shouted. “Look at that!”

Ross and Peter stopped running and looked back at Pan. He was pointing at one of the large porthole windows. They walked over to the window and peered out.

Pan continued. “Is that what I think it is?”

A huge and superbly designed black behemoth was approaching at an incredible speed.

Peter’s jaw dropped. He was speechless.

Ross was never speechless. “Fuckin’ run!”

They ran, but not very far. The impact literally took the floor away from under their feet.


Like a toad inflated by a foot pump, the hull of the Lentil Seed split wide apart.


General Kath pulled some debris from her hair and looked around the bridge of HMS Death Reaper. Apart from many damaged consoles, and some hideous injuries, the collision with the hippy ship seemed to be uneventful. Suddenly, fear for the lives of her friends filled her mind. She activated the com system. “Ross? Pete? Pan? Are you there?”

There was a crackle, and then a voice. “Doughnut! I really need a doughnut!

Kath grinned, a tear of happiness crept down her cheek. “Pan! Thank God you’re all right!”

Yep, we’re all fine, thanks to our suits.

The general sniffled. “That’s so good to hear!”

Do you have any doughnuts over there?

Kath looked around. “I’m not sure. I think the doughnut machine here on the bridge is broken.”

Pan’s voice was anxious. “I really need one!

“I understand.” Kath said. She had known Pan for years and understood the seriousness of the situation. “I’ll get right on it. Death Reaper out.” She turned and looked at the disorientated bridge crew. “Sort yourselves out. I want this ship back into tip top condition A.S.A.P., or some heads will roll.”

The bridge crew rose out of their stupor and activated the ship’s auto-repair systems.

The general pointed at the broken doughnut machine. “Make that the priority!”


Peter, Pan and Ross drifted majestically through the vacuum of space accompanied by thousands of contorted hippy corpses and masses of frozen lentil soup. After several minutes they reached HMS Death Reaper and grabbed on to its hull. After Peter had finished chiseling away with his battle knife at the lentil goop that had solidified over a nearby access hatch, they clambered inside.


Many of the Death Reaper’s bridge systems were back on line. General Kath was impressed with the speed of repairs.

“General?” The pilot said. “Some of our sensors have detected a trail of lentil particles heading towards the blue planet below.”

Kath walked over and looked at the pilot’s screens. “Interesting. Survivors?”

“Possibly.”

“Let’s find out. Are my friends safely on board?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Follow those lentil trails.”

The pilot shook his head. “Sorry, general, but the engines are not operational. They suffered very heavy damage. It’ll be another two hours before they’re repaired.”

“Damn!” She exclaimed with frustration. “Do we have any smaller ships, like shuttles or fighters on board?”

“We do. As far as I know they’re all fully functional.”

General Kath smiled. She put her hands together and drummed her fingers. “Excellent!” She turned and headed towards the exit. “I’m off to greet my friends. Pilot, you have the conn.”

The pilot nodded. “Cool!”

“And keep a close eye on Lawrence.”

The pilot looked to the back of the bridge. Lawrence was squatting over the lifeless form of the large-breasted security officer, his face buried in her bloodied chest. He was munching steadily on her flesh. The pilot shuddered. “Not cool!”


Several six-metre wide globules of solidified lentil soup drifted away from the leftovers of the Lentil Seed. The globules, each powered by a small rear-end lentil-vapour-derived ion thruster, maintained a perfect ‘V’ formation as they descended to the blue planet.


Inside the lead globule, Commander A’Doner hauled his heavy bulk to a transparent patch on the back wall. Anger burned through his soul as he looked out at the shattered remains of his ship. Beyond, he could see the distant but distinctive profile of the Death Reaper.

“It was those bastard British navy anal stretchers!” The commander shouted. He turned to Moonbeam, one of his two companions in the escape globule. “Why, in butt monkey’s hell, didn’t you spot that shit-stabbing submarine before it hit us?”

Moonbeam took a quick and deep draw on his reefer. “It’s like, not my job to spot submarines.” He said; smoke billowing out of his mouth and nostrils. “I’m, like, your security assistant. Not your, like, submarine lookout, or something.”

“Then whose job is it?”

Moonbeam keeled over and giggled as the weed took effect. “Hooch’s, of course. But he’s, like, been totally blown away. He’s, like, history man. He’s, like, climbed the heavenly spliff and returned too...”

Commander A’Doner’s fat fist silenced Moonbean’s rantings. The security assistant’s teeth embedded themselves in the back of his throat. He groaned and coughed blood.

The commander glared at him. “Waffle like that again, you bottom-burgling turd master, and I’ll force your nose bone right through your brain. Understand?”

Moonbean smiled a toothless bloody smile, gave the commander a big thumbs-up, and then passed out.

Commander A’Doner breathed heavily. The loss of his ship and the incompetence of his crew had stressed him almost to breaking point.

Daisy Muff, the commander’s personal pleasure mistress, was his other companion in the escape globule. Noticing her master’s discomfort, she crawled over and began to massage his blubbery neck and shoulders. The commander sighed.

The small console at the center of the globule bleeped. Commander A’Doner brushed Daisy aside, leaned over and pulled a lever. “What?”

It’s, like, me! Doey Limprist!

“Who, in hell’s rectum, are you?”

I’m your, like, chief engineer! I used to sit in a deck chair in the engine room and do nothing at all! I’m in the globule behind yours.

The commander looked back. There, through the transparent front of the escape globule behind, he could see Doey. The chief engineer was waving and smiling in a very girlie manner. Commander A’Doner cringed. It was that disturbing gay bastard he had always tried to avoid. “I see you. What do you want?”

I thought you’d like to know that we are about to enter the atmosphere of the planet below.

“I can see that!” the commander screamed. “What about it?”

I was wondering what your orders were. Only twenty of us escaped alive and we’re going to splash down in that planet’s huge ocean in ten minutes.

The commander thought for a moment. “My orders are simple. We are going to regroup on the ocean’s surface and come up with a devious plan to rescue the supreme Layzee Sponjer from that British submarine, and then we will destroy it in a most spectacular way.”

The peculiar engineer laughed. “With what? All we have are, like, these escape globules, and two weeks emergency rations of lentils and spliffs!

Commander A’Doner screamed with rage. “We will prevail! How dare you doubt my genius?”

Sorry, commander. But you must admit, we are, like, deep in it!

“We must succeed in rescuing the Supreme Layzee Sponjer! His powers will then help us to destroy the Death Reaper, and return us home to Layzee Sponjer for a heroes welcome!”

Err… Okay, I guess.

The commander’s escape globule began to shudder. Outside, an orange glow brightened rapidly. In a blaze of lentil plasma, the little fleet of escape globules entered the blue planet’s atmosphere and headed for the rolling seas below.


“I’m so glad you’re all okay!” General Kath said, rushing into the Death Reaper’s side airlock changing room. She gave Pan, Ross and Peter a big welcome hug. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Really?” Peter said calmly, zipping up the armoured jump-suit he’d just put on. “There was nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Yeah!” Ross agreed, stepping out of his space suit. He grabbed an armoured suit similar to Peter’s and began suiting up. “Those fuckin’ hippies are brainless twats! No fuckin’ problem!”

Pan was still inside his space suit. He nodded, agreeing with the others.

Peter was curious. “Aren’t you going to change out of that space suit, Pan? You’d be better off in one of these trendy outfits.”

“No way!” Pan said. “This space suit’s still full of snacks and drinks. I’m keeping it on till I’ve had the lot.”

General Kath remembered the task at hand. “Keep the suit on if you must, but we have to get moving. We detected a trail of lentil particles heading down to the planet.”

Ross clenched his fists and stabbed at the air. “Escaping hippy fuckers!”

“Right.” Kath said. “Unfortunately the Death Reaper’s engines are damaged, so we’re going to have to go after them in one of the smaller craft we have on board.”

“Cool!” Pan said. “We’d better check on Lawrence first. Make sure he’s still strapped down.”

“He’s not.” General Kath said, as she made her way out of the changing room. “But he’s still on the bridge. He attacked the large-breasted security officer. He’s been busy munching on her big fleshy nipple domes since before we came through the wormhole. Her breasts are large enough to keep him occupied for quite a while, I think.”

Ross was shocked. “I can’t believe it! Fuckin’ pervert!”

Kath was curious. “Why was he strapped down, anyway?”

Peter answered. “He’s not Lawrence anymore. He’s the Supreme Layzee Sponjer, long lost supreme ruler of those hippies!”

The general was stunned. “Bloody hell!”

Pan selected an energy-boosting snack. It shot into his mouth. “Ross?” He said through a cloud of crumbs. “That security officer’s massive knockers won’t keep him occupied for that long. You and I had better get up there and sort him out!”

“Fuckin’ right!”

Pan and Ross sprinted away.

Kath looked at Peter. “You’d better come with me. Your legendary Micro Machines skill will come in useful piloting one of the Death Reaper’s smaller craft.”

Peter smiled. “I knew that skill would come in useful one day!”

General Kath and Peter headed down to the Death Reaper’s main hanger bay. After a brisk one-minute stroll they arrived. Peter operated the control next to the hanger bay’s door. The door whooshed open.

The interior of the hanger bay was not as expected. A multi-myriad of colours - every colour that ever existed, in fact - smoothly swam to and fro in an endless oily soup of mistiness.

Peter was shocked. “Usually hangers are full of spacecraft. What the kind of hanger is this?”

General Kath did not answer. She was transfixed by the swirls of colour before her. She took a step forward, her eyes wide and bright.

“Kath? Are you okay?” Peter asked, concerned.

The general continued to ignore her friend. She took another step forwards. One of her boots was now touching the coloured oily misty stuff.

“Kath?”

General Kath still did not respond. She took another step. She was now standing on the mist itself. She turned and looked towards Peter.

Peter stared in amazement at the general. Her eyes were a rainbow of colour. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but all that emerged were a multitude of colours.

Peter activated a communications panel next to the hanger bay door. “Security? Get down to the main hanger bay. Now!” Peter composed himself and looked back at his friend. “Kath? Please step away from the hanger. I think you need to get some…” Before he could complete the sentence Kath coughed, releasing a dense cloud of the colourful stuff. In less than a second, Peter was completely enveloped. He fell to the floor as weak as a flu-ridden kitten.

Kath turned and floated gently up into the air. The colourful oily misty stuff was changing, fading. Within seconds it was black. Pure deep impenetrable black.


Ross and Pan rushed through the entrance into the bridge. The stench of puke that greeted them was almost overwhelming.

Ross grimaced. “What a fuckin’ odour!”

For the first time in his life, Pan lost his appetite. “You’re not wrong, mate.” He lowered his visor to get rid of the fetid tang.

The bridge certainly looked different from the pristine condition it was in just a couple of hours ago.

Ross pointed. “What's that over there?”

They both made there way through the thick carpet of vomit. What they found was quite the opposite of pleasant. A young woman, almost naked and covered in congealed blood, was lying spread-eagled on her back. A defiant but pained expression filled her pale face. Her eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling.

“Fuck!” Ross exclaimed. “Nauseating! It’s the massive-meloned security officer.” He pointed at the two huge wounds on her chest. “Her fucking tits have been completely eaten away!”

Pan was not happy. “That’s disgusting! Killing people by double mastectomy is a more heinous act than I ever thought Lawrence was capable of. And believe me, I though he was capable of some hideous things!”

Ross looked at Pan. “You mean the Supreme Layzee Sponjer?”

“Of course I do. Same person, isn’t it?”

“I guess so.” Ross looked back at the mutilated security officer. “Poor fucker! What a waste.”

A quiet squelching and crunching sound could be heard.

Ross looked around. He spoke quietly. “I think I hear something.”

Pan nodded. “Over there.” He pointed to the navigation console near the front of the bridge. “Behind that.”

Pan took the left side and Ross approached from the right. With perfect timing they leapt on Lawrence – the Supreme Layzee Sponjer, dragging him off his latest victim. Pieces of what were once the navigation officer's small but well-formed breasts dropped to the floor. Ross scowled, and then punched Lawrence hard in the face.

Lawrence spewed several litres of vomit, and then rolled away. “Ya’ll fookin’ die fa that, ya uglee maggot!”

Pan kicked hard, pushing the metal sole of his right boot into Lawrence’s groin. The Supreme Layzee Sponjer doubled up, vomiting more of his vile juice.

One more rapid kick to the head by Ross knocked Lawrence out cold. He splashed back into a thick pool of his own toxic puke.

Pan smiled. “Nice one!”

A loud emergency siren sounded. Pan and Ross hurried over to one of the consoles.

Ross found out what was happening. “Fuck! The main hanger bay has been breeched!”

Pan twiddled some controls. “Isn’t that where Pete and Kath went?” A view of the entrance to the hanger bay was shown on the main screen. Kath was there, floating on nothingness towards the camera, her expression bland and devoid of all emotion. As she got closer to the camera they noticed her eyes. They were as black as night. Kath opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. The inside of her mouth was as black as could be. She drifted off down a corridor.

Ross spoke, a touch of despair in his voice. “Another of our friends has lost it!”

Pan nodded. “Look’s like it. Wonder what happened?”

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