Snotman in Trouble: Part Two

Snotman rocked to and fro, eyes blinded and breathing laboured under a blanket of bubbling excrement. He waited for the inevitable coup de gras; a stream of green, acidic urine which would strip his flesh, leaving only a skeleton in rubber boots. Not even a Number One single would justify his final look.

Bowing his head and thinking of eating marshmallows as a young boy, Snotman raised his middle finger.

"Clunk!"

For long moments nothing happened, and then a large towel smelling of Chanel No. 5 was wiped across his face.

"KNOBIN!"

His special friend (the famous Boy Blunder) stood before him, nonchantly swinging a human leg. Master blaster had been somehow forced into a pickle jar, and was now cursing inaudibly from its depths.

"Thank the Lord you arrived just in time, my special friend!"

"The least I could do, my wonderful bosom buddy."

"But where on earth did you get that leg?"

"My utility truss was unfortunately empty, so thinking with quick, razor sharp clarity, I borrowed it from one of the Martyrs."

"Didn't he or she miss it?"

"No. Martyrs have not needed legs since the year 2049. They never go anywhere physically, and their needs are met in situ."

And so it was. Snotman survived to fight another day. He and Knobin linked arms and headed towards the nearest tearoom.....

Bravo!