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| - "No, Vladov. Not when we are so close to our goal." "Close!? We've been trying to infiltrate their inner numcircle for MONTHS now! Clearly they don't trust us" "You may be right, but what can we do? They blocked up the sofa exit with numbung fluff; we can't get through that!" "I know, Dimitri. I know." The numfiltrator sighed as he slumped onto the floor, clutching the head of his number-like disguise tightly, as if to hold on for his life. "Why would the boss send us on such a suicide mission? It’s like he knew we would be trapped.” “WHO GIVES A FLYING NUMFUDGE ABOUT COURT MARSHALLS, EVAN?” ‘Bu-‘
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| abstract
| - "No, Vladov. Not when we are so close to our goal." "Close!? We've been trying to infiltrate their inner numcircle for MONTHS now! Clearly they don't trust us" "You may be right, but what can we do? They blocked up the sofa exit with numbung fluff; we can't get through that!" "I know, Dimitri. I know." The numfiltrator sighed as he slumped onto the floor, clutching the head of his number-like disguise tightly, as if to hold on for his life. "Why would the boss send us on such a suicide mission? It’s like he knew we would be trapped.” “Don’t say something like that, comrade. You could be court marshalled.” “WHO GIVES A FLYING NUMFUDGE ABOUT COURT MARSHALLS, EVAN?” “Who the fudge is Evan?” “Oh- I… Um…” “Whatever. Look, we should suit up. Anyone could have heard us shouting.” The two numfiltrators silently helped eachother into their numsguises, making sure to wrap their legs around the inside of the holes. Dimitri grunted as he tried to squeeze in; perhaps he had eaten one to many numbiscuits. Dimitri’s disguise had been fashioned from the hollowed out corpse of the former numbastard ‘6’ – a nefarious dictator responsible for the selling of American nuclear armaments to the Andorran government (it’s a principality between France and Spain. The people there are dirty). They had been forced to eat the black tar-like substance that fills their forms like a water balloon. #noregrets Vladov on the other hand had managed to convince the numbastards that there had been a new number introduced into existence: Quimpy. He remained ambiguous in his description, though the costume he fashioned resembled an oddly misshapen nose, with an elongated tip not unlike an elf’s shoe. CHAPTA TUE They stepped out into the hallway that joins with the main numberwanghub, if you like the central nervous system of the numperation. All the numfucks had gathered there, from numberfucker 1 to numbershit 10, the conjoined twin and essential god of the whole twisted club. ‘Ah! Quimpy! Six! We wondered where you silly numwillies got to!’ ‘Oh hello there seven. We were just stretching our le- I- I mean doing those weird jumping movements and twisting about and shit’, Vladov fumbled out quite nervously. ‘Is that so?’ As he spoke, seven twisted that long straight bit that you done make sevens with, in an inquisitive manor, so he kinda looked like a lightnng bolt, ya know? ‘Because I have reason to believe all is not quite as it seems…’ ‘Wh- what do you mean, seven? What are you talking about?’ ‘Oh nothing really… just THIS’ Immediately the big monitor they use to spy on kiddies switched on, and showed what appeared to be security camera footage of the two numfiltrators, both outside of their costumes. ‘You’re numfucked now, bitches’ he growled, in a suddenly cockney drawl. ‘I don’t understand- that- that’s not real!’ ‘Oh don’t try and pull the num over my eyes, I see with absolute clarity, and I see you lyin’.’ ‘Bu-‘ ‘No. It’s over. You’re ours now’ ‘What are you talking about?’ ‘Oh you’ll see… you’ll ALL see’ *thud* *** This page is a candidate for deletion, since it may be created by the Numbertaker! If you disagree with its deletion, please explain why at Category talk:Candidates for deletion or improve the page and remove the {{<a href="/mediawiki/Template:Delete" title="Template:Delete">delete</a>}} tag. Remember to check what links here and the page history before deleting.
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