Boing The Boy Boing was pissed. His normally tawny-green coat was now deep purple, bristling with static electricity.
“Listen,” pleaded Danger Todd. “It’s a trap! General Tsao’s forces are on the move. We must act NOW!”
“Gee, do you think?” replied Boing. “Who said that like an hour ago? I give up. Oh, wait! IT WAS ME!!!”
“Boing, we don’t have time for this!”
“Oh really? So when I told you not to chase Pantsenstein down a dragon-shaft, we had AAAllll the TIME in the WOOooorrlld!”
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“Talk to the Boing!”
Danger Todd sighed, but when Boing The Boy Boing got like this, there was only one option. He scooped Boing The Boy Boing into his cheek-pouch and, with one flick of his cyber-eyebrow, he quanto-defibrilated them sideways into the Klang Dimension, milliseconds before a flux-grenade liquefied the exact spot they had just been standing.
And as they travelled between the folds of time, gabardine and dimension, Danger Todd pondered their next move against General Tsao, unaware that – within the folds of his cheek-pouch – Boing The Boy Boing was already tweeting what a shit-show this war had become.
