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

at the Mechanoid's head. It bounced off, dinting the box but not moving the robot.
        “What was that?” said Greebol in shock. “My money? You just threw out my Gumtharian Piggybank of money!”
        “How was I supposed to know?”
        “Use the broom,” Greebol growled handing Charlie a large wooden broom. Charlie took it and rushed back to the window. He poked and prodded at the robot, hoping to dislodge it from its vice-like grip.
        Suddenly X7421’s hand began to spin so fast that it blurred like a drill head. It grabbed the broom and wood chippings began to fly. There was a sickening crunch. Charlie fell back into the room holding a tiny shard of wood, the rest destroyed by the robot!
        “This is it,” he said, “we’re going to die!” And he truly believed it. He actually thought that this moment was to be the moment of his death. Charlie had thought he was going to die a number of times. The time that chip got stuck down his throat and he was given the Heimlich Manoeuvre by an old lady with false teeth who smelt of cabbage. Then there was the time he got stuck in the toilet cubicle at school for the full weekend. The most embarrassing thing was that not only was he stuck in the cubicle, he was stuck in the toilet itself! It took five firemen four hours to cut him from the seat. Charlie could still hear the laughter as he was carted down the school corridor, toilet seat around his waist and thighs, his naked spotty bum hanging out the bottom.
        However in those other instances there was a part of Charlie that knew that he would survive. That feeling was not there now. Or was it? As Charlie looked at Greebol’s strange face he realised that this was not the time of his death. And he was right. For Greebol had an idea. It flashed above his head like a light bulb switching on.
        “The table!” he shouted. “Throw the table at it!”
        Charlie clenched his fist and pounded it into the air. “Yes!” he cried with joy. “That’ll get the bastard!” But as he turned to grab the table his face drooped. The large metal table was at least three times the size of the small porthole. “Erm…” he said.
        “Look in the drawer,” said Greebol.
        Charlie did as he was instructed. He opened the drawer at the side of the room as the robot began to drill into the hull of the ship, sparks and metal splinters flying. Inside the drawer it was dark. Very dark.
        “Put your hand in Charlie,” said Greebol as he tried to turn the electrical sharply, in an attempt at dislodging the Mechanoid, “you will feel a number of small round objects.”
        Sure enough Charlie felt them. The space inside the drawer was ridiculously large considering that it was only a very small drawer. It messed with Charlie’s mind and made him go slightly dizzy. He pulled one of the small balls out and looked at it. It was made of some form of rubber that stuck to the fingers like jelly. Charlie hated jelly.
        “What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked, dreadfully aware that the Mechanoid was almost inside.
        “Stick it to the side of the table,” Greebol answered, “it is called a molecular expanded stretchy thing. It can make any item fit inside or through any other item… no matter of its size!”
        So that was how this drawer was able to contain so many objects when it was so small. It had one of these molecular expanded stretchy things inside it! Clever. Very clever.
        Charlie slapped the small rubber ball onto the side of the table, making a squelching sound like someone throwing a wet hanky, and instantly the table began to quiver as though it were not quite solid. However when Charlie grabbed the sides it was hard to the touch!
        Quickly, he picked it up, staggering from the weight. He wasn’t used to having to lift something this heavy. A quarter pound beef burger with extra cheese was about the heaviest thing he had ever