image courtesy of http://thecultofme.blogspot.co.uk/

Scorching through the window it set the curtains ablaze and made for a rather nice Ottoman, before the four men could douse the ball with water.

Smouldering, the sphere sat there and stained the wooden floor boards black.

“What on earth was that?” asked a particularly uninformed gentleman, with his displaced pocket watch dangling from his breast.

“Why it’s a Knid, of course!”

“A what?”

“A Knid, a Vermicious Knid.”

Twirling his moustaches; he and two of the other gentlemen in the room, they pondered such a response.

“From the planet Vermes…”

The men continued their absent minded stares.

“…really gentlemen, you are a trial.”

“Look, Wonka, this may all be old hat to you, but it’s news to us. Would you care to elaborate?”


The quorum took their seats again, but struggled to tear their eyes from the steaming mass in the corner.

“Some time ago, my grandfather, William W.Wonka Senior fashioned a device called a wonkascope, by which he might see into the farthest reaches of space”.

The men frowned buy listened attentively.

“Upon a particularly clear night, he happened to angle his ‘scope to left and up to the right. You know of course, that’s where the Galaxy begins…”

The gentlemen nodded, knowing no such thing at all.

“…well, that’s when he saw them, eggs of the most unusually large size, with two black, beady eyes. Brownish and greenish and all the ishes you might imagine. Well, while he was observing these oddities, one turned and stared right back.”

The men, totally engrossed in Mr Wonka Junior’s story shuddered in their seats.

“…and do you know what they did then?”

They didn’t, not one of the men in fact knew.

“They winked and began to turn. They wiggled and woggled and seemed to giggle and most certainly goggled until they had taken the shape of a series of letters.”

“What did they spell!” demanded one of the moustachioed men.

“The letters took shape.”

“Yes?” asked one.

“First came a B…”

“Yes?” asked another.

“then came and O…”

“Yes, yes? Then what came!” asked another frantic furry faced fellow.

“…another O.”

There was a pause in the room and their eyes, that had gravitated towards Wonka’s as the story progressed, slowly began to edge back, towards the mist covered mound on the floor.

A board creaked, then another.

The men, rooted to their seats, felt an encroaching presence. The hairs on the backs of their necks tingled and twirled. Fingers seemed to run up the backs of their spines. Toes twirled and bottoms burped. And then came the noise they’d been dreading, from the farthest reaches of the galaxy to the edges of the earth on now to the corner of their drawing room…



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