Free Intergalactic Terrorist (New Dimension Book 1) by J. F. Monahan Page A

Lights flashed, noises bleeped and beeped. A number of times the electrical shook and even once it made a loud flatulence sound. He decided it best to ignore the strange fish in the hatch .
        Charlie was sure that he had no idea what he was doing.
        After at least half an hour of poking and prodding, Geoffrey George stopped, hands on his hips, and said to Greebol sternly, “When did you last have this spaceship serviced?”
        “Serviced?” came the confused reply.
        “Everything is in very bad condition. Even the things I don’t know what the hell they are are in a bad condition! The whole thing needs to go to a garage. Do you have them in space? Space garages with over priced petrol? Do they too sell cheap flowers?”
        Greebol stamped one of his large feet and crossed his four arms. His bottom lip stuck out further than any lip had ever stuck out in the history of sticking out bottom lips. “The tight-fisted cheap bastard!” he moaned. “The cheap, cheating scoundrel! Dirty, thieving, lying moronic scumbag!”
        “Who?” questioned Charlie.
        “My brother!” shouted Greebol. “He sold me this electrical! Told me it was a bargain… the best electrical since sliced space rock! I always knew he was a lousy used electrical salesman. I do not know why I trusted him in the first place!” He turned to Geoffrey. “So that is it, is it? Ruined? I have to spend the rest of my life on this backwards little planet?”
        “Well I didn’t say that,” said Geoffrey pointing to a small gauge. Greebol took a closer look. There was a small arrow that was stuck at the edge of the gauge in the red zone. Greebol looked at Geoffrey questioningly.
        “You’re out of fuel,” said the plump man.
        Greebol smiled once again and squeezed Geoffrey until he nearly burst. “Fuel!” he shouted, “Of course! How could I have been so forgetful! The electrical needs fuel!”
        He bounded over to the small drawer, thrust his hand inside and pulled out a strange, curved red and black object that had a small spinning disk on the top if it, seemingly stuck on with some sort of spring. He gripped the handle in one of his large three fingered hands and rested a finger on what appeared to be some sort of trigger.
        “Is that a gun?” Geoffrey asked with a trembling voice.
        “No not a gun!” said Greebol. “It is a Fuel Converter!”
        Geoffrey and Charlie relaxed a little. However not for long. Greebol pointed the Fuel Converter at the two men. He considered them both, moving the Fuel Converter from Charlie to Geoffrey and back to Charlie once again.
        “What are you doing?” asked Charlie.
        “Converting my fuel of course,” came the answer. “Now… which of you do I like the best?” He stopped at Charlie. “I like you Charlie! I think we are one and the same you and I! We are good friends!”
        “We are?” said Charlie meekly.
        “Wait!” shouted Geoffrey with his hands raised, “if Pinwright is your friend then… then what am I?”
        Greebol grinned. However the grin was no longer the simple, happy smile that he usually had plastered on his face. This smile was sinister. It looked cruel. It looked like the smile itself could make a small child wet not only their bed but everyone else’s as well.
        “What are you?” he said with an odd sense of excitement. “You King George … are fuel!”
        He fired the Fuel Converter, which wasn’t a gun but fired a bullet very much like one. It was however, a bullet made of a bright green light that sparked and flashed as it left the end of the Converter and travelled, at a speed similar to that of a flying duck, towards the frightened Human making a scratching noise similar to nails on a blackboard.
        The light hit Geoffrey and quickly absorbed into his skin. An uncomfortable tingle sped down his spine that spread quickly through the rest of his