The chase is afoot. The compasses turn sideways, dancing into the twister like twirly roses of the winds.
"Who invited you people?" I goodlegeek to the compasses.
"SECTOR 9 DIRECTOR."
"Wells... I am un-inviting yous!"
"OVERRIDE COMMAND NOT ACKNOWLEDGED".
I abuse my G-Dir privileges, dig deep into the protocols of compass-brains and take out the brackets. This only manages to disable their navigational sub-systems. They still persue us visualley.
The ravaging storm smouches two compasses together in an attempt to make them kiss and make up. It does not turn over well for us, things go explodey and upside down.
Zee Governor and our mighty wheeled steed blink out in the inferno and the 3 musketeers of Captania end up overboard.
The compasses are charging their poking sticks. They aims for Snippey. I note that Snippey has a heartbeat. This is inexplicable. He should not. Heartbeats are dangerous things in the land of the dead. The Poking sticks aim, triangulating Snippey's fall.
He would not endure their passionate temperate beatings for his hearty meats are reading as soft and fragile.
"You leaves him alone!" I goodle into their mind rooms.
"YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER US, EUREKA INSURANCE DIRECTOR." The compasses answer. The closest one counts down to ion release.
"Snippeeeeay! I FORGIVE YOUR INDISCRETIONS!" I shout, blinking on the aiming softwares of the firing compass.
I frantically blink out more brackets from the triangulation subroutines, repositioning the beam to the next closest meaty thing.
That turns out to be a somewhat bad decision and puts me on fire as the ion beam vaporizes my rather essential liver.
I liked that liver.
All I see are stars, dancing in my eyes.
Goodle warnings of dangerously unacceptable acts twirl among the stars.
My coat makes for a nice sparkler as bright confetti escape out my insides.
"Happy New Year!" I wish to Snippey, as I plummet into the clouds and loOose track of his blur_rey fromage.