Bumageddon: The Final Pongflict

by Andy Griffiths

  CHAPTER 71

  PREPARATIONS

  Zack looked into the sky.

  The arseteroid was close now.

  Very close.

  He clenched his fists.

  The future of the world depended on the next two hours.

  This was it.

  This was what all the bum-kicking, bum-smacking, bum-pinching, bum-forking, bum-flicking and bum-fighting—real and simulated—had been leading up to.

  The final pongflict.

  It had been a long and smelly road.

  Across the Great Windy Desert. Through the Brown Forest. Over the Sea of Bums. Into the heart of a bumcano. Caught in a simulated crapalanche. Trapped inside an underground maggotorium. Sucked into a brown hole. Lost on Uranus. Buried under a giant brown blob.

  But the long and smelly road was almost at an end.

  Zack sucked in a deep breath as he summoned up the courage, the energy and the resolve for the battle that would determine the very course of bumolution.

  Despite the Blind Bum-feeler’s predictions that Zack would be the saviour of free men everywhere, Zack had seen and experienced too much to think that success was guaranteed. The Great White Bum was a powerful foe. And most of the cards were stacked in the Great White Bum’s favour.

  Zack was certain, however, that Robobum’s wedding demands would prove impossible to fulfil, thus buying them the time they needed to launch the nuclear wart-head, immobilise the Great White Bum and ensure that the giant arseteroid would put an end to both him and his deranged dream of world domination.

  This was, after all, a world in which wedding dresses hadn’t yet been invented. A world in which flowers were a relatively new—and therefore scarce—bumolutionary product.

  And, surely, the chance that ‘sweet’ music could exist in such a world was remote.

  But Zack was wrong.

  Wrong on all three counts.

  CHAPTER 72

  AWOL

  Within an hour the three Great White Bums returned bearing their precious gifts.

  The first bum to approach the Great White Bum bowed and scraped the ground.

  ‘I bring a most beautiful dress for your bride,’ it said as it knelt and held out the white paper-thin bark of a primitive bum-tree.

  Robobum gasped with pleasure at the sight of it. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, wrapping it around herself like a sarong.

  She turned slowly from side to side. ‘Does my bum—I mean—do I look too big in this?’ she said to the Great White Bum.

  ‘No. It’s perfect,’ said the Great White Bum. ‘You look even more beautiful than before.’

  ‘You’re sure I don’t look fat?’ said Robobum. ‘I wish I had time to lose just a few kilos.’

  ‘Robobum seems to be really getting into this “wedding” thing,’ said Eleanor quietly to Zack.

  ‘I’m hoping it’s just an act,’ said Zack.

  ‘Me too,’ said Eleanor, biting her lip.

  ‘It is a beautiful dress,’ said Eleanor’s bum.

  The second Great White Bum stepped forwards with a very impressive bouquet of ferns and grasses that, while not technically flowers, were still very pretty.

  They heard Robobum gasp again, and she brought the plants up to her face as if to smell them.

  ‘Olfactory report indicates molecular breakdown very pleasant . . .’ said Robobum.

  ‘What’s that, my dear?’ said the Great White Bum.

  ‘Robobum!’ whispered Zack. ‘Stop doing Robospeak!’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Robobum. ‘It’s just that they’re so beautiful!’

  Again Zack and Eleanor traded worried glances. What was happening to Robobum? She was the onboard computer of a bum-fighting machine, programmed for functionality and practicality. She wasn’t set up to appreciate beauty or fashion. What would have been the point? But here she was, apparently breathless with excitement about wedding dresses and flowers . . . Zack frowned.

  Something wasn’t quite right.

  But there wasn’t time to fix it now.

  The third bum stepped up.

  ‘Your Great Whiteness,’ it said. ‘I present to you the finest wind ensemble in the land. The incomparable, the one and only, Great White Bum Quartet.’

  Four Great White Bums stepped forwards and started making the most unpleasant music that Zack had ever heard.

  ‘That is so bad,’ said Zack.

  ‘Just be grateful that we’re in here,’ said Eleanor. ‘It probably smells even worse than it sounds.’

  ‘I reckon it rocks,’ said Zack’s bum.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Eleanor’s bum, who was now recovered enough to sway slowly from side to side and tap her foot. ‘It’s got a good beat and you can dance to it.’ ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Robobum, beginning to cry again.

  ‘So there you have it,’ said the Great White Bum. ‘A gorgeous dress—a bridal bouquet—and fine music—all you desired—all you deserved and more—now can we get married?’

  ‘No!’ said Zack, desperately trying to think of another demand. ‘Say no!’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘Well?’ said the Great White Bum.

  ‘You heard Zack, Robobum,’ said Eleanor. ‘Tell him no!’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Robobum. ‘We can get married now. I have everything I need.’

  ‘Oh no!’ said Zack. ‘She ignored our commands!’

  ‘Can we take manual control?’ said Eleanor. ‘Try the override.’

  Zack pushed the button frantically. ‘No response,’ he said. ‘Robobum’s gone AWOL!’*

  *AWOL: Arse without leave.

  CHAPTER 73

  WEDDING

  Zack and Eleanor watched helplessly as the Great White Bum led Robobum to stand beside him with her back to the assembled bums.

  They watched as two small—and strangely familiar—bums appeared in front of them.

  ‘Isn’t that . . .’ said Eleanor, trying to remember where she’d seen the bums before. ‘Isn’t that the Prince?’

  ‘And Maurice!’ said Zack’s bum.

  ‘Who are they?’ said Eleanor’s bum.

  ‘Good question,’ said Zack. ‘I’m not sure that they know the answer themselves. One minute they’re working for the Great White Bum, next minute they’re working against him. Looks like they’ve gone back to working with him.’

  ‘But why?’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Why not?’ shrugged Zack. ‘Everyone else seems to be.’

  ‘I’m not working for the Great White Bum,’ said Zack’s bum.

  ‘Me neither,’ said Eleanor’s bum.

  Zack’s bum shuffled nervously in her direction. ‘Um,’ it said, ‘I guess I owe you an apology.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Eleanor’s bum. ‘You weren’t to know.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Zack’s bum, ‘but that doesn’t make it . . .’

  ‘Shush,’ said Zack. ‘It’s starting!’

  ‘Sorry,’ said the two bums in unison.

  As they watched, the Prince cleared his throat and began to speak. ‘We are gathered here today to join these two bums in holy buttrimony.’

  ‘Holy buttrimony,’ echoed Maurice. ‘Holy, holy buttrimony . . . holy, holy, holy . . .’

  ‘That’s enough, Maurice,’ said the Prince.

  Zack bit his lip.

  It was all happening too fast.

  ‘We’ve got to do something!’ said Zack. ‘At this rate they’ll have married and left for their honeymoon before the arseteroid has even entered the Earth’s atmosphere.’

  ‘We’ve got to launch the nuclear wart-head,’ said Eleanor. ‘Hopefully, it will immobilise the Great White Bum and keep him here until the arseteroid hits. We’ll do it when they kiss. It’s our only chance.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Zack. ‘I just hope we can launch it. Without Robobum’s cooperation it may be difficult. And that’s assuming it’s even functional.’

  ‘I’ll get out there and launch the darn thing myself if I have to,’
said Eleanor, her eyes burning.

  ‘If there is anybody here who knows why these two bums should not be joined in holy buttrimony,’ said the Prince, ‘let him speak now or forever hold his peace.’

  ‘Or forever hold his peace,’ said Maurice. ‘Or forever, and ever and ever . . .’

  ‘Shut up, Maurice!’ said the Prince.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Maurice.

  A hush descended upon the crowd. The Prince waited, but nobody spoke.

  ‘Get on with it,’ said the Great White Bum impatiently.

  ‘Yes, Your Whiteness,’ said the Prince. ‘If there is nobody here who objects, then we may proceed . . .’

  ‘I object!’ gurgled a strange and unearthly voice. ‘This wedding must not go ahead!’

  CHAPTER 74

  SPRUNG!

  There was a collective intake of breath from the assembled crowd.

  Zack and Eleanor both gasped. It was a voice that they knew all too well. It was also a voice that neither of them had expected to hear again. Zack looked over his shoulder at the vacuum cleaner.

  It was empty.

  All that remained of the Mutant Spew Lord was a glistening trail across the floor which ended at the entrance to the teleportation tube.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Zack quietly. ‘We’re in trouble. BIG trouble. The Mutant Spew Lord must have taken advantage of his liquefied state to escape out of the vacuum cleaner!’

  ‘You’re right!’ said Eleanor, pointing at the screen. ‘Look!’

  The wedding crowd was in uproar.

  ‘Who—and what—are you?’ thundered the Great White Bum, staring down at the Mutant Spew Lord, who was now little more than a lumpy puddle on the ground in front of him.

  ‘Just a humble servant, Your Whiteness,’ said the Mutant Spew Lord puddle. ‘One that simply wants—and has always wanted—the best for you.’

  ‘On what grounds, puddle of vomit,’ said the Prince, trying to regain control of the proceedings, ‘do you object to this wedding taking place?’

  ‘Because,’ said the Mutant Spew Lord puddle with a dramatic pause, ‘because the bride is not in fact a bum. She is a robot! She is nothing more than a hotted-up bum-mobile!’

  There was a collective outpouring of methane from the shocked crowd.

  But no bum released more methane than the Great White Bum himself.

  ‘What’s the Mutant Spew Lord playing at?’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Revenge,’ said Zack. ‘He must have figured that if he can’t have what he wanted, then neither can we.’

  The Great White Bum, blanched and shell-shocked, turned to his bride. ‘Tell me it’s not true!’ he begged her. ‘Tell me it’s not true and I’ll have this . . . this . . .’

  ‘Faithful servant,’ ventured the Mutant Spew Lord puddle helpfully.

  ‘Whatever it is,’ continued the Great White Bum, ‘scraped up and thrown into the Crack of Doom! Are you really a robot?’

  ‘Tell him it’s not true,’ Eleanor urged Robobum in the desperate hope that Robobum might have regained control of her higher logic functions. ‘Run while you still can!’

  ‘But this is my wedding,’ said Robobum in a halting, confused voice.

  ‘It will be your funeral if you don’t run while you’ve still got the chance,’ said Eleanor. ‘Please!’

  The Great White Bum repeated his question. ‘Are you really a robot?’

  ‘Affirmative,’ said Robobum. ‘The puddle of regurgitated zombie blowfly vomit speaks the truth. I am Robobum. Fully riveted reinforced steel cheeks. Turbo-assisted jet repulsion units. Nuclear wart-head equipped. Matter transport assisted entry and exit. Inside and outside voice options. Onboard tea- and coffee-making facilities. And I am self-wiping!’

  The Great White Bum let out a bum-wrenching howl of pure pain. ‘No!’ he cried. ‘Tell me it’s not true!’

  ‘I cannot deny the truth,’ said Robobum. ‘But this doesn’t have to change anything, does it?’

  ‘Of course it does!’ thundered the Great White Bum. ‘It changes everything. And somebody’s going to pay!’

  And saying this, the Great White Bum picked Robobum up by the legs, held her upside down and began shaking her violently.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ said Zack. ‘Hold on, everybody. This could get a little rough.’

  But it was too late.

  And more than a little rough.

  Eleanor, Zack and their bums were shaken around like beans in a can, bouncing and crashing off the walls, roof and floor.

  It was almost a relief when they hit the emergency exit and it popped open, sending them flying out onto the ground in front of the Great White Bum and right into the middle of the Mutant Spew Lord puddle.

  Almost.

  CHAPTER 75

  PUDDLE

  ‘Get out of me!’ said the Mutant Spew Lord puddle.

  Zack, Eleanor and their bums were only too happy to comply with the puddle’s request.

  ‘Gross!’ said Eleanor, jumping up and brushing the slimy goop off her clothes.

  ‘Double-gross!’ said Zack, shaking his arms and hands clear of the stinking muck. Being giant-brown-blobbified had been bad, but this was much, much worse.

  Eleanor shook her head. ‘You should have left him in that web, Zack,’ she said. ‘You should have let the bumantula take care of him. We would all have been better off . . . including the Mutant Spew Lord puddle.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Zack. ‘I know that now . . . but I didn’t know it then. If only I could go back and change things I would, but I guess it’s not that easy, is it?’

  ‘No,’ said Eleanor. ‘Nothing is easy.’

  But as disgusting as they were, the remains of the Mutant Spew Lord were the least of their worries at that moment.

  The Great White Bum was purple with rage.

  They looked up at his huge dark cheeks. ‘You two!’ he roared.

  ‘Four, actually,’ said Zack’s bum, pulling Eleanor’s bum out of the puddle.

  ‘Whatever!’ said the Great White Bum, shaking. ‘I should have known that you would have one last desperately futile attempt to stop me from fulfilling my dream, but I never suspected that you would stoop as low as this. All is fair in love and war, but to break my heart in this way is unspeakably cruel.’

  ‘Well, you’d know all about unspeakable cruelty,’ said Eleanor. ‘You killed my mother.’

  ‘And mine,’ said Eleanor’s bum.

  ‘And mine,’ said Zack.

  ‘And mine,’ said Zack’s bum.

  ‘You’ve been responsible,’ said Eleanor, ‘for the deaths of everyone we loved, and you have the nerve to accuse us of unspeakable cruelty?’

  The Great White Bum chuckled. ‘Flattery will get you nowhere,’ he said. ‘But never forget, it was you and your type who made me what I am!’

  ‘By what twisted logic do you come to that conclusion?’ said Eleanor.

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ said the Great White Bum. ‘Back when I was just a hatchling. I was barely out of my shell when our nest was attacked by bum-fighters. They wiped out my whole family. They tried to kill me, too, but I outflew them. I took refuge on Uranus, where I was treated as a god by the local bums. I stayed for millions of years. I eventually returned to the Earth to rejoin my race, but discovered that all of my kind were dead, wiped out by an arseteroid. I realised I was the last of the Great White Bums. I thought I was destined to spend the rest of my life alone. That is, until I discovered the time-travel possibilities of the brown hole.’

  Zack gulped.

  Eleanor glared at Zack.

  ‘Can you imagine what sort of welcome to the world it is to be shot at by bum-fighters?’ continued the Great White Bum. ‘If I am violent and vengeful, it is all their fault. They made me what I am!’

  ‘Nobody made you anything,’ said Eleanor. ‘You made yourself.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said the Great White Bum. ‘And maybe not. What is certain is that I am now making the way clear for the first, last and greatest life form
on the planet!’

  ‘With my help, of course,’ said the Mutant Spew Lord puddle.

  ‘Your help?’ said the Great White Bum. ‘A puddle of vomit?’

  ‘Not just a puddle of vomit, Your Whiteness!’ said the Mutant Spew Lord puddle. ‘Your faithful servant.’

  ‘Faithful servant?’ said the Great White Bum. ‘I’ve never seen you before.’

  ‘Sir,’ said the Mutant Spew Lord puddle. ‘For many long years I was known as the Kisser . . . working for the B-team . . . but I was a bum-fighter in name only—a double-agent—working at every opportunity to sabotage their plans in order to help you establish the new world order. Let me continue to serve you. Let me be your right-hand man! Please . . .’

  The Great White Bum regarded the puddle on the ground sceptically. ‘You don’t even have a right hand—or a left. And you don’t even resemble a man. You look like you’ve been eaten by maggots, sicked up by flies and put yourself together again!’

  ‘I have,’ said the Mutant Spew Lord puddle, bubbling sadly.

  CHAPTER 76

  MOPPED UP

  The Mutant Spew Lord puddle’s reply took the Great White Bum so much by surprise that he began to laugh. The Prince took his cue and began to laugh as well. Maurice and the other Great White Bums joined in and the entire gathering began emitting great gales of methane-fuelled mirth.

  Zack blocked his nose and looked at the puddle. Its bubbling had been replaced by steaming.

  ‘What I want to know,’ said the Mutant Spew Lord puddle, as the laughter subsided, ‘is what’s your excuse?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ said the Great White Bum. ‘Excuse for what?’

  ‘Your excuse for being a big pimply loser with half of his left cheek missing who doesn’t know who his true friends are!’ said the Mutant Spew Lord puddle.

  Zack caught his breath sharply. It was not a good idea to talk like this to the Great White Bum. Even if it was true.

  ‘Seize that puddle!’ said the Great White Bum. ‘And throw it into the Crack of Doom!’