Sascha Martin's Ripping News, the Podcast: Teaser 1

Listener discretion is advised, as the following audio contains nudity.

Sascha Martin’s Gobbly Goo was snotty yellow-green, the most revolting show-and-tell his class had ever seen.

‘You got it from your nose,’ said Mary Alice with a snigger.

‘I didn’t, and it grows,’ said Sascha. ‘Watch it getting bigger.’

He touched it with a Lego man he’d chosen to employ, and the goo shot out and gobbled up the little plastic toy.

Sascha’s classmates roared enormously, in horrified delight. And the goo was getting bigger.

He was absolutely right.

Mary-Alice, always naughty, poked the goo with someone’s pen, which it gobbled up and, ‘Oh my god!’ she said. ‘It’s grown again!’

Sascha’s best friend, Luca Blanco, threw his treasures at the goo - bits of gravel he’d been saving, and a rusty washer too, and a piece of string he’d had for years, but now he chose to part with.

Mary-Alice threw a pencil case that wasn’t hers to start with.

Other children, feeling wickedly inspired by the two, grabbed the nearest things that came to hand and tossed them at the goo.

Sascha ducked, and Mrs. Mayhem shouted, ‘No! and ‘No! and ‘No! But they didn’t want to listen cause they wanted it to grow.

So they pelted it with pencils, and they peppered it with pots, and they pummelled it with paper-mâché puppets …

There were lots.

They torpedoed it with tissue boxes, glitter, paint, and glue, and the fairy tales they’d written from a different point of view. And they showered it with shifty-looking portraits and a chair, and with everything belonging to Sheree, who wasn’t there.

Mrs. Mayhem shrilled a shriek of shocking, shattering dimension. But the children found it difficult to give her their attention.

They were jumping up and down and running round and being shrill, doing just the things they shouldn’t, as excited children will, throwing everything they found at Sascha’s ugly, heaving ball, which was gratifying everyone by swallowing it all.

They bombarded it with buttons, and they battered it with beads, and they fed it all the classroom rules that no one ever reads, plus an old computer keyboard and a new computer mouse, and a model, made by Marcus, of a medieval house, Amaterasu’s Godzilla, and Rowena’s Roman villa, Luca’s boat he called Marie Celeste, with no one at the tiller, Aggie’s book that she was reading, and a plastic doggy-poo, and the mascot from the reading corner, Kate the Kangaroo. And when everything of theirs was gone, they stormed the teacher’s desk, but the goo had grown gargantuan and gulping and grotesque.

It was teetering and tottering, it tumbled and it rolled. Sascha struggled, but the goo was just impossible to hold, and it toppled from his fingers, and it landed with a splat! Right on top of Mary-Alice, who was not expecting that.

How she squealed and screamed and thrashed about, complaining, as you do, when a massive, munching mucus monster’s masticating you.

Then she vanished, with a gurgle, and a silence briefly bloomed …

If you disregard the squelching as a classmate was consumed. Mrs Mayhem was beside herself, an awful place to be, and demanding Sascha set the girl immediately free.

‘She’s all right,’ he answered bravely.

‘I was careful to contrive, that my gobbly goo would never gobble anything alive.’

Quite correct, it spat her out, but kept her clothing, which was rude, and a blushing Mary-Alice hurtled past them in the nude.

To be continued.