Morris Magenta: Creeper Inventor, Book 1: Bolger’s Curse, Page 3

Day 95 (Entry 12)

  Me…Fred…

  Me…alone…

  Mr Magenta…gone…gone…gone…

  Think…think…zombie brain…hard to think…with…must write…diary…myself…

  Must…practice…

  Day 95 (Entry 13)

  Think thinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthink

  Day 95 (Entry 14)

  Ok…I think…we’re good…

  Dear reader. I am Undead Fred. I am Mr Magenta’s zombutler. I am writing to you now from a small hole in the ground I dug for myself so that I could hide from the horrible pig things that were horrible.

  I do not know how to be a scientist. I do not know how to do anything other than be a zombutler. But I must. I must rescue Mr Magenta. I must rescue Hoagie and Topsoil and Myrtle. I must defeat the horrible pig things that were horrible. I must be a hero. But I do not know how.

  What can I do? I can write. That is not useful now. I can serve tea and cook dinner. This is not useful now. I can dance, sort of. That is not useful now. I can garden, I can dig. That is not…dig…yes, dig…that could be useful now…

  I need to follow them. Yes. I need to find out where the horrible pig things that were horrible took Mr Magenta. And I must do it sneakily, so they don’t know I’m following them. Then I will find Mr Magenta. I will find him, and I will rescue him. Maybe with digging…

  This is good. Come on Fred. You can do this. There is no sun here to be afraid of. You’ll be fine. Be brave. Be like Mr Magenta.

  Day 95 (Entry 15)

  The horrible pig things that were horrible are easy to follow. They smell as horrible as they look. I can follow that smell over the hills. They also leave footsteps in the red weeds. It is easy to know where they go. This hero stuff is easy. For now.

  I must keep following them. I cannot slow down.

  Day 95 (Entry 16)

  The horrible pig things that were horrible (and still are) have a town. It is small, with buildings made of cobblestone and the red weed. All around the town are mines. Some are holes in the ground. Some are tunnels into the cliffs. The horrible pig things that were horrible (and still are) are going back and forth between the mines. They’re carrying handful of the glowing thing…what did Mr Magenta call it…Shiny-stone. They’re mining Shiny-stone.

  There are maybe a hundred horrible pig things in the town. And only one of me. Mr Magenta must be here, but how do I find him? They could be hiding him anywhere in…

  AHA! I see him! A small cobblestone hut on the edges of the town! It has bars on the windows! I can see a little green face staring out! Mr Magenta! I’ve found him.

  I think I said ‘AHA!’ out loud. I think I said it too loud. Two of the horrible pig things that were horrible (and are even more horrible up close) are coming over. Fred will hide.

  Day 95 (Entry 17)

  The horrible pig things that were horrible (but are now less scary than they were) were pushovers. I’m stronger than I thought. It must be all the carrying of dinner trays Mr Magenta makes me do.

  I hid behind a fold in the cliff, and waited for the pig things to come round the corner. Up close, I saw they were zombies just like me. Well, not exactly like me. Pig versions, and far meaner. But anyway. When their backs were turned, and they were oinking at each other, I launched myself at them with the Mob-Bopper. It knocked the first one flying into the lava lake, and the second followed right behind. I’m getting pretty good with the Mob-Bopper.

  The pig things left behind a pair of steel picks. I’m going to put these to good use. My plan is to mine a tunnel underneath the town, right up underneath Mr Magenta’s cell, and rescue them that way.

  On a side note, this writing your thoughts stuff is getting easier. Much easier. I can see why Mr Magenta loves doing it. I feel so much more intelligent.

  Day 95 (Entry 18)

  I’ve mined a tunnel right underneath the town. If I’ve counted the blocks right, I should be directly below Mr Magenta’s cell. I’m just about to mine upwards, and hope that I’m right. If not, well, then this will be the last entry in this diary.

  If it is, then I hope it finds its way to a library somewhere, so that the world can know how extraordinary Mr Magenta and his inventions are. Oh, and if you’re a pig thing reading this, then I’m sorry I was so horrible about you and your people. If you’ve read this far, then you’re okay as far as horrible pig things go.

  I’m just delaying now. Okay, here goes nothing. This is Undead Fred, signing off. Wish me luck.

  Day 95 (Entry 19)

  Blast it Fred, you took your time! Bungling zombiefied, what an earth were you doing that took you so long to rescue us? Hours we’ve been in this little cell, hours!

  What do you mean you’ve been writing in the diary? That’s my diary Fred, not yours. Good gracious. If you want to record all your thoughts and exploits, get your own diary. This one is mine! Not that anyone would read yours, of course. People want to read about daring and surprisingly handsome creeper inventor adventurers, not zombutlers.

  Oh, and thank you for rescuing us. You are the best zombutler!

  Right, back to my story. Hello reader. Morris Magenta back again. I suppose I should fill you in on what you’ve missed. Topsoil, Hoagie, and I have been stuck in this jail cell. The zombie pig men dragged us back to this beastly little mining town of theirs and locked us in here. I didn’t expect to find a mining town down here in The Nether, but it’s quite clear that they’re after the Shiny-stone. Whether they intend to sell it, build with it, or eat it, I have no idea. And I don’t care. This has gone far enough, and we need to get out.

  Topsoil says we should go out through Fred’s tunnel. A fair plan, but our business isn’t quite finished. We haven’t found Hamfist and Miriam, or Myrtle. However, ours is not the only jail cell here. As we were (rudely) dragged in, I saw several other rooms alongside ours. I’ll bet my creeper skin that our friends are locked in one of those. We’ll have to rescue them.

  I have a cunning plan. I suggest that Hoagie lures one of the pigman guards over to our cell. We’ll say Topsoil is sick or something, and get him to open the door. Once he does, I’ll menace him with my grisly creeper looks. He’ll be distracted, and this will give Topsoil and Fred a chance to jump him from behind. Then we’ll steal his keys, and check the other cells while Hoagie heroically holds back the other pigmen with the stolen sword. Once we’ve found the others, we’ll make a daring escape through town. Huzzah! Heroism!

  Fred has a simpler plan. He says we just go back into his tunnel, mine four blocks to the left, and mine upwards again.

  That’ll work too. But it’ll be less stylish.

  Day 95 (Entry 20)

  Okay. It appears that there’s been some confusion. See, Hoagie has been talking about Miriam since we met. He said she’d gone with Hamfist, and that he just couldn’t leave her behind. He told me how fond he was of her. That his life just wouldn’t be the same without her, and that he’d risk life and limb to bring her back.

  I just never realised that Miriam was a pickaxe.

  As per Fred’s (annoyingly simple) plan, we slipped back into his tunnel and mined along to the next cell. As we mined upwards, we heard a shout above. Someone in the cell cried “Blimey, now what?! Nether worms?!”

  It was not, of course, Nether worms. It was us, the rescue party. We climbed up into the cell to find a small, podgy and dirt-stained fellow. This, as it turns out, was Hamfist, the missing miner.

  “Hoagie! Topsoil!” said Hamfist, grinning, “Crikey am I glad to see you!”

  Hoagie didn’t run and embrace Hamfist, as you might expect old friends to do. Instead, he stormed over and said, “Have you got her?”

  “Of course I do. You think I’d leave her behind. I know how much she means to you, friend.”

  Hamfist produced an ornate diamond pickaxe. Hoagie snatched it at once, cradling it like a baby.

  “Oh Miriam!” he said, “I thought I’d
never see you again!”

  It is my personal opinion, reader, that anyone who loves his pickaxe as much as that has spent too much time mining, and should really try and find another hobby.

  “You fool!” Topsoil said to Hamfist, “I warned you not to come down here; I said Bolger’s Curse would get you into trouble.”

  “Bah,” said Hamfist, “There’s no such thing as Bolger’s Curse. It’s all a load of rubbish.”

  “You ended up in a jail cell owned by zombie pigmen in a hellish lava-filled nether-realm. If that’s not cursed, I don’t know what is.”

  “Relax,” said Hamfist, “I didn’t come down here to get mixed up in curses, anyways. I came down here because I was following footsteps.”

  The plot thickens, “Footsteps?”

  “Aye,” said Hamfist, “See, I got to thinking that certain members of the Pebbleton community were up to no good. See, our usual mines were running dry, yet some folks were getting richer than ever. So I wondered if they were pulling gold and diamond from somewhere else. Perhaps a mine they told everyone else was cursed, so they could keep it all to themselves. So when I found footsteps leading into Bolger’s Mine, I had to follow them. Course, it just meant I ended up here.”

  “What do you mean?” said Hoagie, “What members of the community?”

  “I think he’s talking about us.”

  Ah. Get this down Fred, every word. I don’t know how to tell you this reader, but, uh, Mayor Dickenwink is here. Foreman Tombold too. They’re surrounded by zombie pigmen. And Myrtle too, she’s aiming her bow at us. Right now. What sort of foul treachery is this?

  “You just couldn’t stay away, could you,” Mayor Dickenwink says, “Seize them!”

  Day 95 (Entry 21)

  It appears we’ve been duped. We’ve been double duped. In fact, I don’t believe that anyone in the history of duping has been more duped.

  Mayor Dickenwink and Tombold are thieves. Hamfist was right. They’ve been getting rich off of the Shiny-stone (though I’ve been reliably informed that, in fact, it’s called glowstone. Figures.). They made up the story of Bolger’s Curse to keep everyone away, and enlisted the help of the locals, these zombie pig types, to mine a small fortune for themselves. It’s nefarious stuff, and it’s the kind of thing that really makes my creeper heart feel fit to explode. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

  And worse, Myrtle is working with them! Of all the cheek! She was sent with our expedition to watch us from the very start. When she went through ahead of us, she must have warned them we were coming so the pig-men could capture us. Unbelievable.

  As Fred writes this, they’re marching us all to a larger building at the centre of town.

  Goodness knows what they plan to do with us. But I tell you this. Morris Magenta doesn’t quit that easy. We’re going to get out of this mess. I just don’t know how yet…

  There is one thing that still doesn’t add up, and it may be the key to our escape. The cave-in that Hamfist set off, which we had to mine through to reach the portal. It took us ages to mine through, and it hadn’t been touched. Yet Dickenwink and Tombold were in no hurry to clear the cave-in. If it was blocking off their route to their glowstone mines, they’d have been furious.

  That can mean only one thing. There must be another portal, another way in and out of here. I’m reminded of the purple lights I saw up in the hills, on the night before we came into the mines. Maybe, if we can just find a way to distract the pigmen, we can slip away and escape through this second portal. We can raise the alarm, and put an end to this evil scheme.

  Day 95 (Entry 22)

  I do believe Mayor Dickenwink is quite insane. The main building, as it turns out, is some kind of glowstone throne room. He’s sitting up there like some kind of pigman king. He’s put us under pig man guards in the corner of the room. I still don’t know what he’s intending to do with us. I’m not entirely sure he’s decided himself yet. He’s sitting on his throne talking with Tombold in hushed tones. Goodness only knows what they’re saying.

  Fear not Fred. Listen closely. I have a plan. I’ll admit, it’s not one of my best, but I’m working with what I’ve got here. With my heightened creeper ears, I can hear a familiar throbbing sound below us. I think that second portal might be downstairs, right below our feet. We’re going to have to reach it, but that will involve distracting Dickenwink, Tombold, and the pigs. Everyone will have a part to play, so listen closely.

  Fred, your job will be the most important job of all. I want you to stay right here, and I want you to write down everything that happens. As it happens. This is going to be our daring escape, and I don’t want the readers to miss it. Can you do that?

  Alright then. Here’s what we’re going to do.

  Day 95 (Entry 23)

  Ok, so, Mr Magenta is walking over towards Mayor Dickenwink and Tombold. One of the pig men is barring his path, oinking rudely.

  “I wish to speak to Mayor Dickenwink.”

  “Let him pass,” says Mayor Dickenwink.

  “So,” says Mr Magenta brazenly, “What do you intend to do with us, now we’re your captives?”

  “As for your friends, I haven’t decided,” says Mayor Dickenwink, “Perhaps I’ll put them to work in the mines alongside the pig men. But as for you, Mr Magenta, I have other plans. Myrtle tells me you have many marvellous contraptions, including ones that can mine as much dirt as twenty miners. This is something I must have.”

  “Thanks Myrtle,” says Mr Magenta, fixing our former friend with a bitter scowl, “You’re a true hero.”

  “Sorry Mr Magenta,” says Myrtle, “They told me I had to, or else I could lose my job. I love being a watchman; I can’t let them fire me.”

  Mr Magenta frowns, “First you shoot me, and I find the goodness in my heart to forgive you. Then Fred saves your life from a skeleton. And still, here you are, selling us out to slimes like these. I’m disappointed in you Myrtle. I hope you’re happy.”

  “Don’t listen to the creeper,” says Tombold, “He’s just trying to confuse you.”

  Watchman Myrtle is lowering her head. She looks very upset. Meanwhile, Mr Magenta is turning back towards Mayor Dickenwink.

  “So, you want my inventions, do you?”

  “That’s right,” says Mayor Dickenwink.

  “Then let us trade for them,” says Mr Magenta, “You let my friends go, and I’ll show you my inventions.”

  “Very well,” says Mayor Dickenwink, “But no funny business Magenta. You show me your invention first, and then we’ll let your friends go.”

  “Alrighty,” says Mr Magenta, “Hoagie. Bring me the device.”

  Hoagie is moving through the pig men now. After a nod from Tombold, they let him pass. He goes towards Mayor Dickenwink, and holds out a tiny, hand-held device. The Mayor accepts it, turns it over in his hands, and frowns.

  “What is this, Magenta?”

  “That is the answer to all your prayers,” says Mr Magenta, “A device that will make manual labour a thing of the past. It will revolutionize your mining beyond your wildest dreams.”

  “How?”

  “Push the button, see for yourself.”

  Mayor Dickenwink is hesitating. Still hesitating. Still hesitating. He’s pushing the button.

  SCREEEEEEEEEEECHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

  Day 96

  Righto. Sorry for the delay. We’ve been busy at the celebration dinner in our honour. I suppose we should record the details of our daring and heroic escape, shouldn’t we Fred? Alright, where did you leave off? Ah yes, The Magenta Screech-Tastic Warning Alarm.

  See, Hoagie didn’t give Mayor Dickenwink a mining contraption at all. He gave him the warning alarm, and when he pressed it, a mind-splitting wail filled the throne room like a thousand howling wolves. Not only did this scare the living dickens out of everyone, but, just as I’d hoped, it has a profound effect on the pig men. The device was designed to frighten mobs after all. The wailing sent the pigs into a madness. Running around like
lunatics, squealing and oinking. They even began to fight each other. Absolute chaos.

  “Now Topsoil!” I yelled.

  Just as we’d planned, Topsoil leapt into action. The Magenta Steel-Tipped Pick-A-Tronic in hand, she dived into the centre of the throne room and began mining through the floor. Down to the second portal, and our escape route.

  “Stop them!” yelled Tombold, “They’re getting away!”

  But the pigs didn’t listen. Instead, Myrtle showed her true colours by grabbing Tombold by the arm and taking him prisoner.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she declared, “Fire me if you like, but what you’re doing here is wrong. And I’m going to make sure you answer for it.”

  It went like clockwork, reader. With the pigs going crazy, Topsoil dug us a shaft down to the basement, where, sure enough, a second portal was waiting.

  “Quick!” I said, “Everybody through!”

  Myrtle went first, carrying Tombold as her prisoner. Hoagie went second, cradling his beloved Miriam. Hamfist and Topsoil followed, and finally Fred and I leapt through the portal.

  Just like that, we were back home. Out in the crisp night-time air of Minecraftia, on the hill overlooking Pebbleton. The place where I’d seen the purple lights many days ago.

  “Quick!” I yelled to Hoagie, “Use Miriam, destroy the portal!”

  “What?” said Hoagie.

  “We can’t have the pigs following us through! Quick!”

  Hoagie set to it, mining into the obsidian at the side of the portal. However, as I watched him, someone else emerged from the portal. Diamond sword in hand, Mayor Dickenwink ran at me with a frenzied look on his face. His long grey hair billowed behind like a dreadful tail.

  “You!” he roared at me, “You ruined everything, you crackpot inventor! I’ll get you for this!”

  He ran at me like Herobrine himself was on his tail. However, I was ready for him. I turned to face Mayor Dickenwink, and gave him a solid thwack on the nose with the Mob-Bopper. He went sailing backwards, right back through the portal. A second later, Hoagie destroyed the obsidian block, and the portal closed.

  “Serves him right,” said Hamfist, “Trapped in there with those pig things.”

  “We could rescue him using the other portal,” Myrtle pointed out, “So long as we take ladders with us.”

  “Maybe,” I said, “Let’s leave him there to stew for a bit though, eh?”

  As we returned to Pebbleton, the moon was rising high in the early evening. Watchman Melvyn spotted us, and raised the alarm. Soon the whole town came out to hear our tale.

  Myrtle, Topsoil, Hamfist and Hoagie told them what had happened. How Tombold and the mayor had deceived them, and how, thanks to Fred and I’s heroic efforts, their scheme had been uncovered and Hamfist rescued safe.

  Naturally, celebrations followed. I and Fred were treated to one of the finest meals we’ve ever had, and were told that we’d always be welcome in Pebbleton.

  I, of course, told them that such things are all in a day’s work for a famous inventor.

  Day 104

  Fred and I have returned to our house, happy in the knowledge of a job well done. Tombold was locked up in the Pebbleton jail for his crimes, and I’m told Myrtle is going to mount a rescue of Mayor Dickenwink. At some point.

  Hoagie has taken over the job of mayor for the time being, with Hamfist and Topsoil to help him. He plans to re-open Bolger’s Mine, and start a safe and secure expedition to mine out the glowstone. He hopes this will improve the fortunes of Pebbleton, and make it a healthy little village once again.

  As for me? Well, Fred and I are happy to be back home, and with one adventure under our belts, we’re eager to find another where I can put my inventions to good use. I also have ideas for a whole host of other inventions, and I’m going to begin work on them right away.

  For now though, I think I’ll just enjoy this mighty fine pork-chop. That’s another thing for the record – I think Fred has finally learned to cook.

  Day 106

  We had the most peculiar visitor today. A strange looking fellow, in a dusty old suit and tie, came wandering up the path just before my late-afternoon kip.

  “Greetings,” he said when Fred answered the door, “My name is Wendleby. I represent Sir Krinkle Abernathy, a gentleman of high status who owns the mansion up the road from here.”

  “What can I do for you,” I asked Wendleby, once Fred had led him to my office.

  “Mr Magenta,” said Wendleby, “Sir Krinkle has a job for you.”

  “Oh?”

  “He cordially invites you to be a guest at his upcoming dinner party, to commence on the seventh day of the month. It shall be a small, sophisticated party of all the social elites in the area.”

  “I’m flattered,” I said, “But I’m only a humble inventor. Is there a job you need me to do, or do you just want to invite me to the party?”

  “You don’t fully understand,” said Wendleby, “This is no ordinary party.”

  “Oh?”

  “No. You see, there are stories about this mansion. It belonged to Sir Krinkle’s father you see, long ago. Now Sir Krinkle wishes to get to the bottom of these stories, Mr Magenta, and so he’s invite a party of experts, scientists, and professors to investigate these stories.”

  I leant forwards, “What kind of stories?”

  “Stories, Mr Magenta, of a ghostly nature. Folks say that the mansion is haunted.”

  “Is it?” I asked.

  Wendleby smiled, “That is what we need you to find out.”