Vaccuum Cleaner That Ate California
Authors: Lonely Walker and Captain Marina
"Aaaarrrggghhh!!!!" Face said from his new position on the floor after being assaulted by a cardboard box wielded by one HM Murdock Esq.
"Murdock! What are you doing!"
"Faceyman!!!" Murdock grinned enthsiastically before his expression turned to complete seriousness. "In here, come on!" With one movement, he picked Face up and threw him into a storage cupboard presently occupied by a vacuum cleaner.
"Oh, this is nice." Face looked around. "What do you want, Murdock? And this better not be you coming onto me!"
"No..." Murdock said. "But I understand the vacuum has quite a thing about you. No, we have to talk. How'd you feel about this...thing?"
Face swallowed, stared at the ceiling. "I don't exactly like it, Murdock, but what else can we do? We have to."
Murdock shook his head. "Stockwell's playing a game this time all right and I don't think he's betting with us."
Face nodded. "True, but whatever happens, happens, right? We're still the A-Team! We can do this!" His face darkened. "Do you think...Hannibal and BA and Frankie...will they be okay?"
"We can worry about them when we get out of this." Murdock smiled. "See you tomorrow, Face."
Face nodded. "Yeah." And left Murdock in the cupboard.
The pilot stared at the vacuum cleaner. "This sucks, doesn't it?"
What happened next -
What happened next is a matter of some debate in the opinions of all concerned. Until Captain Murdock's personal diary was recently discovered in the burnt ruins of Washington D.C., it had been thought by the wider population that nothing of consequence happened to anyone involved with the A-Team until around five o'clock the next morning when they had to save the life of the President. If asked to speculate what exactly Murdock did, anyone would probably answer that Murdock went to bed, perhaps read some of the phone book, set his alarm clock and went off to sleep. If asked to speculate what exactly Murdock did after they had read his diary, the answer would probably gravitate towards the subject matter of hard drugs. However, as this is a family piece of writing, we will assume that all of the following events are not related to drugs of any kind. This also allows us to hand it out in History exams to sixteen-year-olds without us needing to pretend that we know more about drugs than they do.
What happened next was that the vacuum cleaner appeared to explode. That is: there was a blinding flash of white light, a shower of dust and a shockwave that slammed Murdock into the wall he was nearest. Murdock had learned to equate this sort of event with that of an explosion. He levered himself up without opening his eyes and reached out for a wall that wasn't there. That wouldn't have been so disturbing in itself, except that it also appeared that there was no floor either. Eyes fully open, Murdock screamed and screamed and...realised that it was fairly pointless to do so.
He was definitely falling - the flickering stars of light racing upwards were a big indication of this, as was the wind threatening to prise his baseball cap off. Murdock stuck a hand on top of his head and stared at the vacuum cleaner. It was sitting there, as vacuum cleaners do, totally unconcerned with the facts that it had just exploded and was now falling a seemingly infinite distance into thin air. Murdock continued to stare at it. There didn't seem to be much else to do.
As if to relieve the boredom, a naked woman on a white horse eating peanut butter suddenly raced past the vacuum cleaner and himself. *I didn't know horses ate peanut butter?* Murdock thought. He then worked out that he must be going insane again and calmed down.
With a resounding THUMP his feet and rear end impacted on something wooden which felt mysteriously like floorboard. Murdock, still keeping an eye on the vacuum cleaner, mentally checked over his body. He wasn't dead - at least, not more dead than he had been a minute ago - and there was a total lack of a bloody mess resembling any of his body parts on the floor.
"Okay." Murdock muttered to himself and got up. He was in a cupboard. Not *the* cupboard, because although it was absolutely identical to the one he had just left, this one had an increasingly agitated goat in it. "Hiya, little fella." Murdock grinned at it. "Ummm, I guess you don't want to tell me where I am and how I got here, do ya?"
A beam of light hit him across the face and he blinked in the direction of the now half-open cupboard door. "Why are you talking to a goat?" A foot-high teddy bear inquired.
"Because he seemed like a nice fellow-and anyway ahh...excuse me sir... I
don't mean to bother you, but you are a stuffed Teddy Bear what are you
doing talking to me? And where were you on the night of July 10, 1985
between the hours of 2 and 4 a.m.? " Murdock queried doing his best
Columbo impersonation, not wanting to be out foxed by a stuffed bear.