Beards From Outer Space by Gareth P. Jones

Author:Gareth P. Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781847158604
Publisher: Stripes Publishing

“Our best chance of defeating them is to find a way of separating the beards from the humans,” explained Mitzy patiently. “And that means getting a sample beard to the lab.”

“There’s no time for that! We need to catch the Beard King,” exclaimed Biskit.

“We’re Pet Defenders but we can’t defend anyone if we have no way of beating these beards.”

“You don’t need to tell me how to do my job,” said Biskit. “I was defending the Earth when you were still playing with balls of wool.”

“Biskit, you’re a brilliant agent—” began Mitzy.

“Thanks,” interrupted Biskit.

Mitzy gave him a look and continued, “But you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“It seems like I do actually,” said Biskit, before adding with a defiant snarl, “Senior agent or not, I’m doing this my way.”

He turned and ran.

“Biskit!” Mitzy cried after him as he raced past the security cabin and out of the compound. Then she remembered the bottle of King Cola in the security guard’s cabin. As long as the man hadn’t opened it yet, Mitzy could get the beard inside the bottle to the lab, where Example One would be able to work out a way of defeating them.

Mitzy snuck down to the security cabin and poked her head inside. The security guard had his feet up on the desk, and was reading a newspaper. The unopened bottle of cola was on the end of the desk, near his boots. The radio was playing a song she recognized. The man sang along tunelessly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… Stick your hands in the air, air, air.”

Mitzy looked up at the cola bottle. It wobbled precariously as the security guard’s large feet tapped to the beat.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Like you just don’t care, care, care,” he sang.

Mitzy smiled at the thought of what her owner, Cynthia, would have said about the song. Cynthia hated pop music. Mitzy actually quite liked this song, although not as much as the security guard seemed to.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Why d’you stop and stare, stare, stare?”

As the thumping beat got louder the security guard’s feet tapped more vigorously. Everything on the desk wobbled. The bottle of cola teetered on the edge. Mitzy crept into position, directly underneath.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Where d’you put your bear, bear, bear?”

Mitzy wondered if the security guard was singing the right words. Not that it mattered. The beat quickened and the foot tapping increased. Finally, the cola toppled.

Mitzy leaped up and grabbed the neck of the bottle in her mouth, twisting round and cushioning its fall with her belly.

“Stop right there…”

Mitzy froze, fearing she had been spotted until the security guard continued, “… there, there.”

He was still singing along.

Unseen by the security guard, Mitzy took the bottle and ran.

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