The Old Improbable Island Wiki

Dogend Skronky is sitting looking at the pictures in a National Geographic magazine that he found fluttering in a clearing. It has been in the room awhile, and has the normal assortment of cider stains and fag burns that one might expect.

Big Su Skronky comes in the room and flops down on another chair. “Wotchu luckin ut thun?” she asks. “Thus loik.” comes the reply. “Wotz thut thun?” she asks, looking at the picture on the open page.

Dogend Skronky isn't quite sure where it is that he's looking at, so he makes a guess at the first faraway place that comes to mind. “Utz thu moon innit?”

Big Su Skronky looks closely at the picture of the Amazonian rainforest. “Rully?” her attention is caught in particular by a an old cider stain. “Wotz thut thun?”

Dogend Skronky looks closely as well. “Dunno. Lucks loik baccy ore dunnit?”

Big Su Skronky's attention is caught. Another source of baccy ore? That's something that the Skronky business empire should be paying close attention to. On the moon. “Hmm.” Big Su is thinking. “Oomuns av gut tu moon avunt they?”

Big Su Skronky “Uf thuy cun do it, thun so cun we. Butter thun they cun.” Thus is born the first attempt to put squats on the moon.

Big Su Skronky strides into Squat Hole town centre leading a small procession consisting of Dogend Skronky, Shagnasty McAlistair, Cantankerous Biggs, and a small team of squats dragging one of the town defences' catapults behind them.

Big Su Skronky is here to introduce a historic event. The First Squat On The Moon! A closer inspection of the catapult would reveal that it has been souped up with extra springs and reinforcements added on in apparently random places.

Dogend Skronky positions the catapult in the middle of the town square. A dustbin is brought out from the group of squats, which has something scrawled on the side in large messy letters. 'Squthul Spuce Ajun..' before running out of space.

Cantankerous Biggs climbs up into the bin. Someone has done their homework and looked at some pictures of astronauts, and Biggs is given a goldfish bowl to put on his head. He doesn't know it yet, but he's now in debt to the Skronkys for that. Plus interest.

Cantankerous Biggs in the bin is carefully placed in the cup of the catapult in preparation for take off.

Big Su Skronky is a very sensitive squat, and strongly feels the importance of the occasion. Once again Squat Hole leading the way forward. She feels that this calls for a speech.

Big Su Skronky addresses the growing crowd of gawpers watching what's going on. “Ludiz und guntuhmun. Ere's thu lutust leap furwurd in mudun technology. Wunce agun Squthul leads thu way ferwerd. Wez gunna put uh squat un moon.”

Big Su Skronky feels that this is enough and strides over to the catapult to launch the moon mission. Drawing out a carving knife, she brings it down on the rope holding back the catapult. Sprooooong!

The crowd consists of eighty six squats, three mutants who happened to be passing through, a robot researching squat society, and two zombie donkeys. Of these, four squats are missing an eye and so is one of the zombie donkeys.

The robot has vision sensors rather than eyes, and one of the mutants has, at best count, one hundred and three eyes.

There are “oohs” and “aahs” and two hundred and seventy eight eyes and two vision sensors are raised slowly upwards as Cantankerous Biggs in a dustbin soars moonwards.

There are “oohs” and “aahs” and two hundred and seventy eight eyes and two vision sensors are lowered slowly downwards as Cantankerous Biggs in a dustbin plummets earthwards.

Cantankerous Biggs crashes back down to ground again, or, more precisely, crashes back down to the back shed of the Skronky Pot, where three months worth of lung-butter is being stored awaiting distillation.

Cantankerous Biggs crashes down into seven hundred and eighteen barrels of raw lung butter. Of these, seven hundred and seventeen barrels are smashed, and one manages to remain intact.

Mildew Skronky watches in horror as Cantankerous Biggs is washed out on a tidal wave consisting of seven hundred and seventeen barrels worth of valuable prime lung butter. That's going to cost.

Mildew Skronky wades through the spilt lungbutter and grabs a still dazed Cantankerous Biggs by the scruff of the neck. “Wot thu fack duz yer fink yuz doin? Thut's hi-qulity lungbutter thut iz! Thut duzzen jus grow un trees! Yur gunna replace thut, uvry fackin drup!”

Cantankerous Biggs is strung up and hung by his heels over one of Mildew's spare pots. “Nu yuz gunna stay thur until utz ul replaced!”

The observing robot, based on an accepted value for the average value of a squat, calculates that if he produces his own body volume in phlegm a day, then this will take approximately five years, two months, three weeks, two days, five hours, eight minutes and fourteen seconds.

Cantankerous Biggs starts producing. Sadly none of it reaches the pot as nobody has thought to take his goldfish bowl off him. This starts to slowly fill up. Finally Scumbelly Perkins notices this oversight - a goldfish bowl going free!

Cantankerous Biggs is relieved of his helmet, together with all the lung butter produced so far. He'll be here for some while yet.

See here for more tales from Squat Hole.