Part 1

Far, far away. In a place just down the street, sat a paper-clip – to be precise, Bloh the paper-clip. Bloh was an ordinary piece of stationery with an ordinary purpose and (opaque) colour. But he was an unhappy paper clip. He was actually quite pleasant to get to know, but the other stationary (in the land of Cyanide Not Allowed – CNA) always shunned him.

The highlighter-punks made fun of him and the fancy-fountain-pen aristocrats avoided him. He was completely normal except for one thing: he had Tourette syndrome. This unfortunate syndrome had the undesirable effect on poor Bloh to say inappropriate and vulgar things in the middle of his sentence involuntarily.

Although it was known that he couldn’t control it, he was still banished by the council of rulers from the exam-pad palace – forced to wander the inhospitable wilderness of the stapler-monster wastelands. This was because his constant cursing badly influenced the clutch-pencil-lead babies.

Anyway, one day the sad paper-clip was sitting in his hermit hut (out in the stapler-monster wastelands) wondering where he was going to get his next meal from, when something happened that hadn’t happened since… Well, ever: there was a knock at the door.



Part 2

Suddenly, dramatically the door opened. A gust of stale CNA air blew into the hut. There standing in all his magnificence was the Ruler-King. Out of all the rulers from the council, he was chosen to be king because he had one regal centimetre of extra height.

So there he stood (all 31cm of him). It took Bloh a moment to remember his manners (he was still just as respectful) and so he bowed down in humility,

“Oh your royal <****ing> highness, I am <bloody> honoured to have your majesty in my humble <*****> presence.”

“Oh, stop grovelling, Bloh,” snapped the king irritably, “I don’t want to waste any more of my time than I need to.” He let himself in and took a seat on the only sofa in the room.

Bloh stood up and offered the King refreshments which were rudely rejected.

“Just listen to what I have to say and keep quiet.”

Bloh nodded and poked the fire with an old piece of a staple that he had found in a corpse in the wastelands.

“I don’t usually make a habit of seeing people in person. They are usually summoned to my court by the royal guard. I could not employ their services for this specific situation, let alone let anyone know about it as it is so delicate-“

“I’m sorry to <****> interrupt,” interrupted Bloh, “but is your highness certain that <**** ****> you would not like a cup of tea?”

“No, Bloh, I’ve never been one for tea. As I was saying: I am seeing you in complete secrecy and this will not be spoken of (assuming you ever meet someone to speak to again). A neighbouring Kingdom is having some trouble. They are being pestered by a dark evil that only you (or so I’m told) can save them from.”

“Me? ” Asked Bloh in amazement, “someone needs me for something.”

“Yes, yes. Now the mission won’t be easy, but if you succeed, you will be granted amnesty from your crimes and paid handsomely.”

“I accept!” cried Bloh eagerly.

“Very well, follow me. ” The king swiftly marched out of the hut and climbed gracefully into his sellotape chariot. Bloh climbed into the back.

The powerful cart-scissors pulled the chariot across the tiled landscape of CNA. For a small part of the journey, they were out in the open. The brief rush of cool, dark air was stopped just after they entered the Kingdom known as:” Bathroom bizarre



Part 3

The scissors clicked to a halt in the back of the foreign Kingdom. After a while, a figure emerged from the darkness. It embraced the Ruler-king.

“Welcome old friend,” it told him. “It is sad that we must meet on this dire occasion.”

“Indeed,” replied the king solemnly, “but I might have the solution.” he tilted his head towards Bloh.

The figure turned to Bloh to get a better look. Bloh finally saw the figure for who he was: the famed and mysterious Cockroach king. The large cockroach squinted at him,

“Ah, you must be Bloh. Your reputation is widely known. The kingdom of CNA doesn’t appreciate your skills but we do.”

“I’m sorry,” apologised Bloh politely, “I don’t have any <*******> skills.”

“To us, I believe, your Tourette syndrome will save us. Come, let us go. I will explain as we walk.” They walked into the darkness. “You see,” explained the ‘roach, “my subjects are unhappy. We generally live in peace- for the most part. Of course we have our conflict with the humans (they don’t like the fact that we are fixated with filth) but we can handle that. Even when it gets really tough, we just console ourselves through remembering that we will outlive them by many millennia.”

They were silent as they walked into a small intrusion of cockroaches huddling together. They barely looked up.

“Do you see what has happened to my subjects? They have been frightened beyond what nature intended. Every night we are attacked by something. We have no idea what it is but every morning, there is a cleanness wherever it went. Anyone who gets caught is killed due to overexposure to cleanliness. The shaman has prophesied that ‘the one called Bloh will confront it alone. If confronted with violence, he will fail and if confronted in peace he will fail, but confront with passive curiosity, he will surely succeed. No-one but you will be able to interpret its meaning. We are going to hide until morning because the prophecy requires you to go alone.”

The fear-filled insects began hiding. “Wait,” protested Bloh but it was too late. He was already alone. He sat down miserably and wondered what he was going to do.

The prophecy said that he couldn’t use violence. That was a pity because he’d learnt a thing or two from living in the wastelands for such a long time.

It also said that he couldn’t use peace. He’d been ostracised for so long that he’d forgotten all about peace. Anyway, how would he make a peace offering to something that he had no idea what it was?

What did that leave… passive curiosity? He vaguely remembered something about curiosity killing a cat. He entertained himself for a moment being happy that he wasn’t a cat or else this would be significantly more difficult. In any case, how can you be passively curious? Doesn’t curiosity imply action?

Before he could come to a conclusion about his questions, he heard a sound that made him jump.

“Who <the ****> is there?” he asked nervously.

A titanic bar of Pantene (smooth-as-silk) soap slid into view. Bloh looked up in awe, “who <**** ****> are you?”

“So many questions,” said the Pantene (smooth-as-silk) soap in an ancient and minty-fresh voice, “and such bad language. I am Washer (cleaner of worlds). I have come to rid the world of gruesome filth like the cockroach nation but first I shall wash your mouth.”

“Oh, <s***! >” swore Bloh.

Washer grabbed Bloh and began scrubbing him. Bloh was shouting for help while letting out a constant stream of cuss-words. The more Bloh swore, the harder he was scrubbed. The harder he was scrubbed, the more he swore. Eventually there was just a big cloud of bubbles.

After a time, the commotion calmed down. As the bubbles popped, a spectator would have noticed this: Bloh was lying down next to the soap. Neither of then moved. An observant spectator would have noticed two differences immediately: Bloh no longer had any colour (although he was still opaque, he was now albino). The second thing that would have been noticed immediately was that Washer was no longer its original size but rather 5 times smaller and by extension, smaller than Bloh.

Washer recovered first. He got up, gasped at his tiny size and squeaked away into the darkness. Bloh woke up just in time to see him disappear. The cockroaches slowly came back. There were whispers at first. That became excited talking and finally exploded into ecstatic cheering. They chanted, “Bloh the hero! He who chases away the clean! Hooray! Hooray!”



Sometime later, Bloh was sitting at a large dining table. The Ruler-King was busy making a toast for the celebration feast.

“As we all know, Bloh was an inconspicuous piece of stationary, he always minded his own business but unfortunately his unfortunate condition could not be tolerated. He was banished and shunned but when the people needed him most, he was still there for them- selfless as ever. As promised, he has been granted amnesty and very, very generous treasure.”

The king paused while everyone at the feast cheered. He nodded in acknowledgement and went on, “As well as helping our good neighbours the cockroaches and defeating the evil that pestered them, he has also miraculously lost his disorder. Isn’t that right, Bloh?”

“It sure is, your royal Ruliest of rulers,” beamed Bloh joyfully.”

“Well there you go,” said the king, “all’s well that ends well. Please celebrate with me this auspicious occasion. Cheers!”

They all connected glasses. For a while the only sound that was heard was that of clinking cutlery and crockery as they all enjoyed their meals. The King held his glass up to drink when he stopped as if he had just remembered something.

“By the way, Bloh “said the King.

“Yes, your highness?”

“I spoke to the other council members and you’re banished. The people of my kingdom say that your albino skin scares the clutch-pencil-lead babies.” the King continued eating.

Bloh was silent for a moment before he spoke (still remembering his manners),

“<Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu->”



The End



The morals to this story: