Raiders Of The Lost Island Consignment Shop – Part 41

rotlics part 41 - titles

As if an invasion by Daleks and all manner of cultural memes isn’t bad enough for Moonlight Falls, now there’s even more trouble ahead down at La Shove Beach with the arrival of…

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‘The time of triumph is at hand. You have made well with the preparations I see.’

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‘I have followed your instructions to the letter, oh luminous one.’

‘Your Magical Unicorn expects it to be so. From this, there will be no further mistakes. Nothing can stop us now.’

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‘This will be the dawn of a new era, our era, that of the elite. Every city, town, village and home in the Simming third dimension will be in accordance to my great plan. No more need for any Jazzhandias. No need for any fickle Founding Fifteen to depend upon. All Simmies shall be happy to serve in accordance to my divine will from birth, as granted to them in my wisdom, or suffer for it until they learn to mend their ways…’


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Looks like Aarin and Chyla’s plans have already hit their first snag…

Meanwhile…in the Bell Tower of the Commonwealth Court…

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‘Well, here we are, Reesaroo, the end of the line. Get your eyes peeled because somewhere in here…’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, you don’t need to spell it out!’

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‘But where is it going to be amid all this junk? You talking about those Harry Potter cosplay kids earlier, this looks like that Room of Requirement in Hogwarts. How much random crap can you cram into one place, and it looks like it’s not been visited for centuries.’

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‘Oh, not centuries. Decades. Old Gilbert Winterbottom saw to that once he realised no one was using it. He even volunteered to look after the maintenance of the bell four times a year as part of his role in the Moonlight Falls Chamber of Commerce…’

‘…so only he would have access?’

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‘… arrrr-haa-haa-haa! You’re catching on nicely to how old Gilbert’s mind worked.’

‘And no one visited since?’

‘No, they replaced the bell with an electronic recording some time ago. Less wear and tear – the bell you can see from outside is only for show. The more this place was used as a lumber room after Winterbottom, the more his stuff was hidden in all the assorted rubbish, such as the paraphenalia for the seasonal festivals in town. I think we ought to make a start on those trunks of his first of all, I’ll bet thee he’s got it all tucked away inside there…’

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‘Wrong once again, Moryrie, but then your sad little Aarinite gang never were as smart as you all liked to think you were…’

‘I know that voice behind me… but it can’t be…’

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‘Tut-tut – you disappoint me. After dealing with those gullible losers Evil One, Rflong7/13, Berrypie and Spychip, I really hoped you would present more of a challenge – and your old buddy Gabriel Vigmed deserves a challenge, don’t you think? Oh well, before going to retrieve Winterbottom’s lost treasure, I suppose I may as well just kill the both of you…’


Meanwhile, back at La Shove Beach …

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‘She won’t help us. What do we do now?’

‘Don’t you understand what she said, Jon? We don’t come from this plane of existence. We’re worse than dead. We’re lost forever.’

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‘For God’s sake, let us sit upon the sand and tell sad stories;
For within the Iron Throne keeps Grimmy his court and there the antic sits.

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‘Nay, let’s talk of graves, of ghosts, and deathflowers;
Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes write sorrow on the bosom of the earth;
I live with goopy carbonara like you, feel want, taste grief, need friends.’

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‘Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood. Nor any other album by Roxy Music.
With solemn reverence: throw away respect, tradition, form and ceremonious bumnuggetry.’

‘For you have but mistook me all this while:
Subjected thus, How can you say to me, I am a … Simmie?’

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‘What’s a Simmie?’

‘I don’t know, Shireen – anyway, what’s bumnuggetry, Jon?’

‘I don’t know either.’

‘Tsh! You know nothing Jon Snow!’

‘Why do I always have some smart mouth ginger saying that to me wherever I go?’

‘Never mind that? What’s goopa carbonara, Roxy Music, deathflowers? My head feels weird right now…’

‘Me too.’

‘Uh, I’ve felt strange since I can remember being here.’

‘That’s it! Sod this for a game of thrones – I’m following her.’

‘Princess, no, wait – weren’t you were running away from her not so long ago?’

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‘That was then, this is now – if you two want to sit on the sand telling sad stories no one’s stopping you, but I’m not going to sit here and wait for the Seven or the Lord of Light or whoever to tell us what to do next. Let’s at the least find out what she’s up to.’

Aarin and Chyla meanwhile were now having to deal with their secret plans no longer being so secret…

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‘Who or what you are is of no consequence. Be gone, while you still can, insect!’

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‘It’s the Cloverstardrop brat. Shall I dispose of her?’

‘No need. Lord Bimble. We can settle our account with this irritant at our leisure later. Now, attend to the drones at once! They must fly with the rising of the sun to do what must be done – the last one we’ll set the timer on for here in Moonlight Falls before disapparating in the Not So Routine Machine…’

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‘So, Aarin, hatching another dastardly plan like a bird with a dastardly egg are we? But – oh! – how unoriginal: an air attack at dawn without warning? Considering your ethnic background a bit clichéd, is it not, although novel that this one is coming from a harbor rather than attacking one…’

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‘Almost as novel as casual racism…’

‘As racist as the next Simmie. Anyway, you’d know all about that – you tried inventing whole new master races to do your bidding in local science labs from their unwilling dead! How ironic to see your skin’s turned the same lilac colour as my livormort friends out on Lonely Island – you remember them, don’t you? They certainly remember you… Elysia… the Tynehams… all pass on their kind disregards by the way. Didn’t you learn anything from what happened in Twinbrook? Whatever you’re planning after umpteen years of procrastinating, give it up – now! – or we’ll all be sorry.’

‘For your information, I’ve not been procrastinating as you put it. I’ve just not utilised my time as well as I could be. Nevertheless, this shall eclipse all my prior hypercrude enterprises. This world… this dimension… shall be mine – to infinity and beyond!’

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‘With this? Drones armed with nuclear bombs? Have you lost any last vestiges of decency? What sort of insanity over and above that caused by Hands On Neck Syndrome makes you think this will achieve anything worthwhile?’

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‘No, no, no, no – not nuclear bombs. What sort of a monster do you take me for? Vacuum bombs, dear! Nukes are soooo 20th century. Thermobaric weaponry means no radiation, no interference with any dark matter research devices which may be working in those cities – simply the clean, surgical, sanitary evaporation of all buildings and lifeforms, ready to be built anew to my pure vision.’

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‘And that in your twisted mind is somehow more civilised?

‘They will destroy the Dark Matter facilities at Sunset Valley, Riverview, Twinbrook, Bridgeport and Moonlight Falls. Never again will Simmies meddle in the forces which they are not advanced enough to explore yet – except under my strict supervision, of course. Afterwards, the drones will drop across the remaining free Simmie cities and islands those eggs first laid on my pumpkins in Lunar Lakes before being specially mutated by my genius, a new invincible strain of Gonepteryx fatum nemesis…’

The Butterfly of Doom?…’

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‘Very good! Swiftly infecting the rest of the Simming world, increasing the terror and paranoia to fever pitch, everyone will believe King Henry Tapuwhai and the Pasimfic Empire is responsible after his little television meltdown, and without Twallan the world’s Simmies will quickly seek another saviour to the menace the Simgurus cannot protect them from – one they had previously rejected on their advice.’

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‘Whereupon – lo and behold! – the miracle: advanced weaponry from Lunar Lukes to defeat and conquor the Pasimfic Empire once and for all, with a cure for the more extreme version of Hands On Neck Syndrome we’ve polluted the planet with coming from our new HONF lab as a side salad!’

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‘… and all of a sudden Aarin’s back to being Our Magical Unicorn Goddess again – everyone loves you and those who don’t had better beware. That’s it? That’s your master disaster plan?’

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‘A world of peace and unity – what the Simgurus and their kind were too weak, too lazy and too avaricious to give. There will be room for the talented to flourish under my tutelage and strict obedience. This will be the dawn of a great future – the future Simmingkind deserves. What have the Simgurus ever done for you except outlaw you for daring to point out their failings. Join us!’

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‘No, no, infinity times no! Who the hell are you to say what constitutes Utopia? Holy trollbat, even Pescado knew when he was beat but not it seems the Great Knit Aarin and her toothpick Croat toadie Chyla, still with your cloud cuckooland dreams of everlasting evil overlordship Civilization-on-the-PC style – all shall bow down to my awesomesauce, or else! – and still with the same old disastrous sense of timing! Get your Hands On Neck Syndrome riddled brains tuned into the fact your schemes will cost you any chance of having a planet or dimension left to live in, let alone conquor!’

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‘What do you mean? Explain yourself!’

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‘You can destroy every city, you can destroy every Dark Matter laboratory – it’s not going to stop the chain reaction you’ve already started! Every time the LLAMA network spits out one of your bloody derpbutt pumpkin Daleks, it’s spitting out even more unstable dark matter on top into this plane of existence. You want to take over the world – go right ahead! You’ll have twelve days at best to enjoy your conquest before the whole bloody Simmerverse is destroyed to sub-atomic level – tick-tock!

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Pumpkin Daleks? I didn’t junction into the LLAMA network to send through Daleks!’

‘Oh come off it, Great Knit! I… we … haven’t time for pretense!’

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‘Um… Lord Bimble… please tell me that beetle browed brat is making this all up… Lord Bi… Chyla? Chyla!

‘Oh shoot… in the words of the Travelling Wilburys, “sometimes you’re better off not knowing you’ve been had”!’

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‘Ugh! Why am I surrounded by incompetence?! Every great plan, every evil enterprise dashed by maladroit minions!’

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‘Oh shut up Aarin – it’s your own fault. Someone’s sabotaged your own sabotage by tampering with the LLAMA boxes after Chyla did – thus instead of pumpkins coming out for your drones to drop, you’ve got some sort of psycho-pumpkin-Dalek crossbreeds running riot over Moonlight Falls, which will grow increasingly uncontrollable as the effects of HONS in them kicks in! Your paranoia over secrecy meant you never told Chyla exactly what you were sending through the LLAMA network in the first place, resulting in her accepting what came through as your handiwork with no way of double-checking until it was too late. I’m a loner, but at least I’ve learned to trust people, more than you’ve even done with your own friends – and see where it has got you!’

‘Spare me the pop-psychology lectures from Twitter. I can stabilise any dark matter leak safe from Lunar Lakes. So some will have to die for a better world? In order to gain everything one has to sacrifice something. No great advance was ever made without paying the price of the comforting certainties of before. It matters not to my cold icy black heart if…’

‘Spare me the cold icy black heart comic book clichés, Aarin. There’s nothing so mundane than the pseudo-intellectualism of blackhat nerds and counterculture snobs so intoxicated by their own reciprocal surly intolerance of the zeitgeist that they rationalise it into a feigned superiority complex. Hatred never solved anything – it’s robotic, mechanical, and has got nothing to do with Simanity.’

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‘Oh, and you Miss Social Justice Warrior, Miss Standard Bearer of the Queerarchy are somehow above all that?’

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‘See that ship in Moonlight Falls Bay, Aarin? That’s Moryrie and Reesaroo’s – your friends, in case you’ve forgotten, even if you abandoned them once they were no longer of use! Your reckless plan has put them – and all the other former Jazz-Handers – in mortal danger. If the Daleks don’t get them, the unstable dark matter field in a few days time certainly will!’

‘In which case my drones will be merciful – No pain. No trauma. Just instant volatilisation.’

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‘I’m a third of your age, Aarin. I’ve an excuse for still herping the derp. The difference between us is I know I foul up, I know I screw up, I know if I’m not stepping on toes I’m stubbing my own, but I try to make amends. In that collective world of overwhelming bastardliness you and I both so despise, my attempt at reducing that bastardliness may not amount to a speck of dust, but at least it means my conscience is one less voice in my life nagging me before the day’s end.’

‘Oh, how noble. Shall we both clap? Give you a gold star sticker and a Twinkie bar? Run along now – the grown-ups have work to do.’

‘Whatever. Goodbye Aarin, goodbye Chyla. I’m going back into Moonlight Falls to try and save Moryrie and Reesaroo – same as they helped Zhivan try to save me from Sleeping Dragon island a few years back. They’re not my friends, it may only gain them an extra twelve days of life, but I owe them that much in the time that’s left. Do what you want Aarin and Chyla – because you two are beyond saving from yourselves.’

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***Gigglesnort!*** Knew that emo brat couldn’t handle our awesomeness. Let’s get on with the plan, oh luminous one – once safely back at Lunar Lakes and the dark matter problem solved, we can use it for our base of conquest and mop up Moonlight Falls at our leisure later…

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‘… my Magical Unicorn?… Aarin?’

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‘Princess Shireen, what’s going on?’

‘They were shouting at one another. Something about that ship, and some things I don’t quite understand.’

‘Jon, do you think think it’s important.’

‘I don’t know, Sansa. Maybe that Captain Moray Eel she was talking about earlier is important in some way?’

‘Maybe it’s not that, Lord Commander…’

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‘… I think it’s the ship… what it represents. Something the woman in the black and red dress once had, and valued… but never showed it… took for granted… and only wanted to once it was already lost and could never come back… ‘

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‘Alright. We shall postpone – for now.’


‘Quiet, Lord Bimble. So, Switch-Cloverstardrop or whatever you’re called this week, I take it we can work together to stop the breach?’

‘Have circumstances given us any other choice?’

‘Touché. Now let us plan a way out of this mess.’

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‘First we must shut down every single tampered LLAMA box without getting killed by the Daleks.’

‘I’ve already got an idea how to do that, Aarin, but I’ll test it on the box here first. Getting rid of the Daleks however is another matter…’

‘Although the primary hazard, they are actually the least of our worries. Second, we find a way to soak up all that dark matter or at least stabilise what’s already come out – that one’s strictly my department! If we can at least achieve that until Twallan can be found and if necessary rescued, our odds will double.’

‘Can you use the Bloom Institute of Wellness nearby – according to Jessamine Diane they seemed to be up to all sorts of sinister stuff in there?’

‘I’m not sure – it was shut down as a dark matter testing zone fairly early on as the strong magical field around Moonlight Falls interfered with any experiments. The equipment will probably be dated, but it makes good logic to go there first regardless.’

‘And finally, we need to get a hold of that Winterbottom treasure and have that also contained, because if the real Copper Urn I found is anything to go by, it could well contain a massive source of dark matter that may do in a day what those LLAMA boxes might do in twelve days if someone unearths it.’

‘Oh yes, about that twelve days you mentioned…’


‘I did a quick cerebral calculation. If there’s fifteen LLAMA boxes spitting out one new Dalek and a blob of dark matter about every five minutes, well um actually we have only about twelve hours now – not twelve days.’

‘That’ll concentrate our minds to the task ahead wonderfully!’

‘Meh – if we’re all going to die, at least our last half-day’s going to be an exciting one…’


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