Slime Squad vs the Conquering Conks Read online

  “It . . . it looks like a nose,” breathed Plog in disbelief. “A giant walking nose.”

  The nightmare nose-creature’s eyes narrowed. “Do not move,” it rasped in a cold, bunged-up voice. “Countess Kiss . . . Plog of the Slime Squad . . . from this moment, you are powerless prisoners of the all-conquering Conks!”

  Snorting and wheezing, the bizarre beast lumbered towards them.

  Chapter Three

  UP TO NOSE GOOD

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Nosy,” said Plog, still lying sprawled on the alley floor, “but the Slime Squad’s leader is never powerless!” He kicked the empty cardboard box into the conk-monster’s face.

  “Fool!” With a snarl and a swipe of its three-fingered hand, the creature batted the box away. “Soggy cardboard cannot stop us.”

  “But it can buy me time to get back in the ring!” Plog had tugged out one of the countess’s gold hoops, and now he hurled it at the Conk’s left eye. The giant nose snorted in pain and staggered backwards.

  “Now I see why you wanted protection.” Plog jumped up and grabbed Countess Kiss by the wrist. “I’d quite like some myself – come on, run!”

  The unlikely allies sprinted to the end of the passage – only to find three more creepy conk-creatures hurrying towards them, blocking their escape route.

  “I’ve heard of running noses, but this is ridiculous!” Plog dragged Countess Kiss up the front steps of the Dentists-R-Us building and shoulder-charged the heavy door, smashing it open. “Come on, we’ll hide inside.” More green splats sprayed the wall beside them. “Ugh – they’re firing nose-juice out of their nostrils!”

  “Don’t let it touch you,” Countess Kiss warned him. “That revolting stuff is what scared away poor Sukka and Blowdart. If it hits you, you’ll be at the Conks’ mercy – and they don’t have any!”

  Plog ducked as another gooey missile flew over his head. “We’d better run for it.” He charged into a showroom full of dentist’s chairs and headed for the back stairs, Countess Kiss close behind him. As they took the steps three at a time, the horrendous hooters burst into the building, firing wildly.

  “No wonder they sound so bunged up,” Plog panted. “They must have never-ending snot supplies!”

  A sign at the top of the staircase announced the MOUTHWASH DEPARTMENT. Big bottles of minty antiseptic were stacked up all around; Plog quickly knocked them over and kicked them down the stairs, directly into the path of the rampaging Conks. They snarled and snorted as they were sent flying, banging and crashing out of sight.

  “That won’t stop them for long,” the countess panted. “Keep moving.”

  Plog sprinted with her up the next flight of stairs and followed her out onto the roof. To his surprise, a small white aircraft was parked there. A lipsticky kiss-mark was printed on each pointed wing and a large exhaust pipe hung down from its rear.

  “Your own private aircraft,” Plog realized. “So that’s how you left the smoke-writing in the sky.”

  “Naturally.” Countess Kiss ran over to the plane and opened the door. “I suppose that since I want your friends to help protect me, I’d better not abandon you to the Conks. Climb aboard.”

  “You’re too kind,” Plog muttered, squeezing into the seat beside her as she started the engine. The plane’s propellers began to spin – just as the Conks burst out onto the rooftop. Plog’s tummy lurched as the plane took to the air amid a hailstorm of gooey green missiles, climbing quickly out of range.

  “Phew,” said Plog. “We got away.”

  “But they’ll keep coming after us,” Countess Kiss sighed. “They’ve already chased me halfway across Trashland. Now it seems they want you as well.”

  “I wonder why these Conks want to capture us? Why not just drive us away like they did all the bad guys – or simply kill us?” Plog frowned. “Where did they come from, anyway? How many are there?”

  “Who knows?” said the countess. “But you heard for yourself what they’re planning to do. They want to conquer Trashland!”

  Plog remembered the bunged-up boast of the nasty nose all too well – then realized its voice was the same as whatever had scrunched PIE’s sensors that morning. “There must be more of these weird conk-creatures up to no good on the Car Wreck Coast,” he muttered. “Maybe lots more.”

  Countess Kiss shrugged. “So?”

  “So that means Zill, Furp and Danjo are in massive danger,” said Plog. “We’ve got to get to them – fast!”

  At that exact moment, Zill, Furp and Danjo were bouncing through the vast rust-and-rubber outskirts of the Car Wreck Coast. The crumpled cars had once belonged to human giants, and were slowly falling apart in titanic, teetering heaps. Beside them, the Nosepick Ocean shifted sludgily in the morning breeze.

  Furp looked out of the window. Judging by the thick, sticky slime-trails over much of the metal coastline, the sea-level was dropping fast. “Brake here, Zill, could you?” he called. “I think we’re nearing the spot where PIE’s sensors are hidden.”

  Zill slowed the Slime-mobile to a trundle and checked the electronic map beside her. “You’re right. There should be two human-car tyres on top of each other somewhere round here – PIE’s sensors are squeezed in between them.”

  “I can’t understand why it’s so quiet.” Danjo peered around. “There’s a Formula Bum motor race being held near here today. There should be loads of monsters getting ready.”

  “It’s still early, remember,” said Furp, “and we’ve come in on the back roads.” But secretly he was feeling quite unnerved himself. None of them had spied a single monster. And since PIE’s sensors had been destroyed, even their big boss couldn’t warn them of any possible dangers. “The sooner I repair PIE’s bits and pieces, the better.”

  “That must be the place.” Zill drove towards a pair of large, dirty tyres on top of a hillside of broken car doors. “Let’s check it out.”

  Zill stopped the Slime-mobile beside the tyres. Furp hopped straight out and scaled the metal tower to inspect the damage. “Ah-ha,” he murmured, catching sight of an aerial sticking out between the two tyres. Then he saw that the electronics beneath were covered in a thick green goo, hardening in the sunshine. “Yuck!”

  “What is it?” Zill called up to him.

  “I’m not sure.” Furp pulled out a screwdriver from his pants and prodded the sticky mess. “Some kind of slime, I think.” But when he tried to tug the screwdriver out again, he found he couldn’t. “It’s like a kind of green glue, gumming up the works. I’ll have to mix up something in the lav-lab that will dissolve it.”

  “That’s going to take you some time, right?” Danjo looked at Zill. “While Furp’s busy, why don’t we climb the hill and see if we can spot anyone?”

  Zill nodded. “Will you be all right on your own for a bit, Furp?”

  “Sure,” said Furp. “But be careful.”

  He watched his friends charge away up the hill, the sun flashing off their golden outfits, then wriggled through the gap between the tyres to inspect PIE’s gummed-up sensors more closely.

  “YOU are the one who should be careful,” came a thick, bunged-up voice above him.

  “What—?” Furp looked up to find a huge, lumpy nose-monster jumping down from the rim of the tyre above him. “Ooof!” The thing knocked him flying and he fell to the ground with a thump. Stunned for a second, Furp heard the nose land beside him, sniffing and snorting.

  “You shouldn’t be so nosy,” it said. “That’s our job . . .”

  And the next thing Furp knew, a giant quivering nostril was closing around his head! It was hot, dark and sticky. Sharp hairs scratched his froggy skin. Slimy goo bubbled around his face. “I can’t breathe!” he gasped. “Zill! Danjo, help!”

  “Zill Billie and Danjo Jigg are not required,” rasped the monster. “Only you and your leader are needed to help the Conks!”

  Then Furp’s eyes flickered shut and he knew no more . . .

  Chapter Four

  TISS
UE ATTACK!

  Unaware of the fate that had befallen their friend, Zill and Danjo were clambering over the car wrecks that made up the local coastline. The rusty ground clinked and crumbled under their feet.

  “I think the racetrack is on the other side of these huge cars,” said Danjo. “How about we take a short cut?” Raising his right pincer, he sprayed a stream of slush out in an arch, right over the roof of a giant vehicle. It quickly hardened to ice and Danjo climbed over it like a bridge.

  “Good thinking, partner!” Zill spat a slime-line at Danjo’s back, sat down on the ice and held on, allowing him to tow her to the top.

  The two Squaddies were soon gazing down over a monster racetrack, crammed with sporty motors and crowds of onlookers. “That’s more like it,” said Danjo. “They’re all getting ready for the race.”

  “But then . . . how come no one’s moving?” Zill stared around, baffled. “It’s like they’re playing musical statues – and forgot to bring any music.”

  “What are we going to do?” wailed a mattress-mite in the crowd.

  An old man monster beside her nodded. “I’m so hungry and thirsty . . .”

  “And I really need the toilet,” groaned one of the drivers from inside his car.

  “What’s the matter with them all?” Danjo wondered.

  “I’m not sure. But they look afraid.” Zill bunched her fists. “Well, let fear disappear . . .”

  “The Slime Squad is here!” Danjo clapped his pincers together. “Or half of it, anyway.”

  Zill slid down the other side of the frozen bridge like a champion speed-skater, while Danjo followed close behind.

  “Look!” The mattress-mite pointed but didn’t budge from where she stood. “The Slime Squad are coming!”

  “They’ll save us!” cried the old man monster.

  “Have they brought a potty?” called the driver.

  “Unstick us!” a big, three-eyed lady monster begged. “Please, set us free!”

  “What are they on about?” Zill muttered as she hurried over. Then she saw the puddles. They were nasty, thick and green, and the monsters were stuck in them up to their ankles. The cars were held tight too.

  “Furp said that green glue was gumming up PIE’s sensors, didn’t he?” Gingerly, Zill put a paw against the goo – and had to fight to free it again. “Where did this stuff come from?”

  “The noses!” moaned the mattress-mite.

  Danjo scratched his head. “The who?”

  “Revolting conk-creatures,” the old man monster confirmed. “In place of nostrils they have double-barrelled snot-guns.”

  “We got here early for the races, and they ambushed us,” said the three-eyed monster. “First their servants rounded us up. Then the noses stuck us to the ground with their hooter-juice.”

  “I guess that must be what they didn’t want PIE to see.” Zill’s own nose wrinkled. “Why would these conk-creatures do this? And where are they now?”

  “I think they went off to round up some more victims,” said the mattress-mite. “They could be back at any time.”

  “Sounds crazy,” said Danjo, “but I guess it’s snot to be laughed at.”

  An excited buzz of chatter was swelling as the trapped monsters realized they might be close to rescue. “Please, everyone, shh!” Zill called as loudly as she dared. “The things that did this to you might hear and come straight back!”

  Danjo tried to lift the lady monster clear – but she could not be budged. He fired red-hot slime at the sludgy stuff, but it had no effect. Zill helped him, pulling so hard that the lady monster began to stretch like chewing gum! But finally, after five minutes of frantic pulling – FRRRRRIP! – she came loose. “Thank you!” she groaned.

  “You’re welcome,” Zill panted. “But if we take that long to free everyone, it’ll take us months!”

  “Months?” said the red-faced racing-car driver. “Oh, no. I really do need a wee!”

  Zill saw that his doors and windows had been glued shut by more of the sticky splats, trapping him inside. She coughed up a slime-line and spat it at the back of the car. “Danjo, let’s try to pull him out – then we can use his car to help us tow more monsters to safety.”

  The two Squaddies heaved and strained with all their strength. Then, suddenly, something wispy and white caught Zill’s eye, blowing over the top of Danjo’s ice bridge. It hung there for a few moments like a kind of sheet, until another one blew against it. Then both floated down towards the racetrack.

  “EEEEEK!” The lady monster ran for her life and the crowd erupted in panic. They gasped and yelped and screamed, waving their arms and wobbling about, desperately trying to free themselves.

  Zill frowned. “Shush, you lot!” she hissed as the white things wafted over and brushed against Danjo’s legs. “It’s only a couple of old tissues.”

  “You don’t understand!” The old man monster’s eyes were wide with fright. “Those are no ordinary tissues – they are servants to the noses!”

  Even as he spoke, the tissues tightened and twisted around Danjo’s three sturdy legs with savage force. “Hey!” cried the crab-creature as he let go of the slime-line and crashed to the ground. The crowd cowered in helpless terror as the white sheets reared up with an eerie rustling sound, ready to engulf Danjo.

  “No, you don’t!” Zill grabbed one in her jaws and yanked it away. Quickly she found it was as tough and stiff as hard-boiled bogeys – and tasted even worse. She spat it out – as another giant tissue came billowing out of nowhere to land on her head. “Aargh! Danjo, quick – I can’t see!”

  Danjo fired boiling hot slime at Zill’s attacker, but the tissue merely absorbed it and continued to attack, lifting her into the air. Before he could fire again, the hostile hankies tightened around him, pinning his pincers to his sides. “This is ridiculous,” he groaned. “How can these things be so strong? They wipe noses!”

  “Not just noses,” Zill gasped as the living tissue slammed her down on the ground. “This one’s wiping the floor with me!” She kicked and bit as it hurled her around, and finally tore a hole large enough to push her head through. Instantly the tissue tightened around her throat, choking her.

  “Oh, no!” someone yelled as the crowd’s cries of panic grew louder still. “Here come the Conks – with more prisoners!”

  Helpless in the grip of her nose-wiping nemesis, Zill stared, speechless: four giant walking noses had appeared through gaps in the towering car-cliffs on the far side of the crowd. Ahead of them they herded dozens more terrified monsters – wrapped up in green-stained tissues – onto the rusty racetrack to join the existing scrum. SPLAT! SPLOSH! The Conks blew big green blobs from their nostrils and stuck their prisoners fast.

  “Can’t . . . let them do this,” panted Danjo, still trying to break free. “Have . . . to stop them.”

  One of the Conks looked over sharply. “Stop us?” he said in his harsh, bunged-up voice. “No. Interference with the Test Zone will not be tolerated.”

  “Test Zone?” Zill echoed. “What d’you mean?”

  “That is no concern of yours.” Sniffing and snuffling, the Conk trampled over the poor monsters in the crowd to reach the Squaddies. “You cannot stop our plans.”

  “We’ll see about that,” said Zill bravely as the warty monstrosity drew closer. “The Slime Squad never gives up.”

  “This time you will.” Coldly, the Conk surveyed the Squaddies. “You will be stuck here like everyone else – and left to rot . . .”

  Struggling even harder, but still just as helpless, Zill and Danjo could only watch as the Conk aimed his dribbling nostrils straight at them, and prepared to fire . . .

  Chapter Five

  PLANE CRAZY!

  Zill and Danjo closed their eyes, ready for the splatting of a lifetime – and suddenly heard a mighty roar of engines just above them . . .

  Danjo opened his eyes – and gasped! A white aeroplane was zooming towards them, hugging the ground as if it meant to land. The Co
nk glanced up, astonished – and then squawked as a metal wing whacked him away. He was propelled high into the air, little arms and legs waving, before finally smashing into a rusty car on the other side of the valley. The glued-down crowds cheered, but not for long – as the sturdy Conk got straight back up again.

  “Where did that plane come from . . .?” Zill squinted into the sky, and gasped to see a familiar furry friend waving from the cockpit. “Danjo, look – it’s Plog!”

  “And check out who’s with him,” breathed Danjo, boggling as the plane turned to reveal a slender white-clad arm waving from the pilot’s side, with a big red mouth just behind it. “It’s . . . Countess Kiss!”

  “HUH?” Zill spluttered. “What’s going on?”

  “Attack that aircraft!” roared the battered Conk. “Bring it down!”

  At once, a volley of green splodges sprayed from the nose-monsters on the valley floor. The white plane dipped and dived and looped the loop as it daringly dodged the sticky missiles – then an enormous cloud of thick white fog exploded from its rear end.

  “It’s been hit!” cried Danjo.

  “I don’t think so.” Through the plane’s passenger window Zill saw Plog clapping his hands – and then it turned above them once again. “That must be the smoke that Lip-features used for sky-writing!”

  The dense cloud spread out overhead, cloaking the entire valley. Zill held her breath as the trapped crowd burst into helpless coughing. Even the tissue holding Zill began to twitch and splutter – and while it was distracted, she finally kicked her way free. “Danjo,” she gasped, “I’ve got loose!”