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Night Of The Pasta: Part Three

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After twelve minutes of banging, Thomas opened the boot door, only to find Lieutenant Larry standing in front. “Well, well, well!” he said. “What have we got here?” Tom attempted to escape, but was blocked by 3 pasta pieces. “Throw ‘im in the pile.” said Larry. With that, the two bulks picked up Thomas and took him to a flaming pit full of something Tom didn’t know. When he was pulled forward and then heaved back, an icy finger ran down his spine. Humans!

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!” exclaimed Thomas as he was thrown into the hole. “Have a nice trip!” laughed one of the bulks as soon as they walked away. “Grrrrr...” stormed Tom as he walked to the edge, feeling the wall. “Tar!” he exclaimed. “People!” Thomas began. “Do you have any matchsticks? Anyone?” he scanned the area to see if anyone was still alive. “Woof! Woof!” barked a cute sausage dog and leaped forward, a box of matchsticks in his mouth. “Who’s a good boy?! You are! You are!” Thomas stroked the pet and toook the matches out of his mouth. “Now to test my plan!” Tom wiped the side of the stick on the box and threw it onto a small ledge in the wall. “I’ll name you Dawn!” said Thomas before he lit the next match.

After fifty matchsticks had been set alight, Dawn and Thomas watched the entire wall collapse, also causing a few guards to fall in the fire and explode. “Dawn! I know our way of defeating General Wheat!” he exclaimed. “If those pastas will explode at great heat, will the rest of the army explode?!”
As the flames stopped, Tom carried Dawn up the steep, jagged wreck and rode his parked bike into the distance. Little did he know, FBI were on to him...

“Agent Dicker! We have reports of SpyDog #12 falling for our mortal enemy!” said a secret spy inside an ice-cream van, which was actually the pasta’s secret bas. “Well send in SpyDog #123 then! Duh!” replied the head of the spies department. “Sir! Spy Dog#123 was burnt in a fire yester-a male officer was cut off with “I don’t need questions! I need answers! Lots!” stormed Dicker. “But sir! SpyDog #12 and his homo-sapien have boarded a rocket ready for launch! Sir!” With this, Dicker was suprised. He picked up a phone and dialled a number in. “Agent Dicker here!” he said. What, Dicks?” replied Sergeant Wheat from his office. “Sir! We have spotted one enemy board a rocket ready for launch!” he said. “Uh-oh. I’ll call the spoace depo right away. Be on standby!”

Little did they know, Thomas and Dawn was already on Mars...
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Night Of The Pasta: Part Four

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The so-called ice-cream van got out of its parking space and drove off after Thomas and Dawn at high speed. In case you didn’t read last week’s story, Dawn is Tom’s newly adopted dog that helped him get out of a flaming pit. One of the spy pastas pulled a mini-megaphone out of the roof and called into it. “You can’t hide forever!” she said. Suddenly, Agent Dicker spotted something strange. “The rockets already left!” he exclaimed, but before he could close his mouth, the road in front of him started to give way. Steam poured out whilst a shiny machine flew upwards slowly. “The rocket!” Dicker shouted. “Launching in 3... 2... 1... BLAST OFF!” came the announcer, and the force of the boosters pushed the spy car backwards. Meanwhile, Thomas and Dawn were confused. “There’s no signs!” moaned Tom, and looked at Dawn for help. She barked in confusion, but ran off into the distance. “Dawn! Dawn! Dawn the Dog! Wait up!” Thomas almost caught up, but lost Dawn. “Great. Curse you, Martians!” he e...
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