Sascha Martin's Ripping News, the Podcast: Teaser 2

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

As they rolled in fits of laughter on the partly gobbled floor, Sascha’s hungering invention gobbled several children more, and ejected them soon afterwards, denuded but complete, having rudely dispossessed them of the bits that it could eat.

And it gobbled Mrs Mayhem, who was terrified and taut, but, emerging in her birthday suit, was even more distraught.

Then the goo sank underneath them with a loud, disgusting plop, and without a floor to hold them up, the children fell on top.

How they fuelled its expansion! Well, their clothing did, at least, and it grew in all directions while continuing to feast upon the ceiling and the whiteboard and the windows and the walls, and the room next door, its pupils, and their teacher, Miss de Vauls.

Then it finished off the building and it hit the ground, and still, with its appetite unsated, started rolling down the hill, eating concrete now, and asphalt, scoffing timber, grass and dirt, while its undigested victims rose, embarrassed but unhurt, soaring skywards till their up-momentum totally was spent.

Then they’d pause for just a moment, at the top of their ascent, scrabbling madly at the air or hanging, arms and legs askew.

Then, as gravity would grip them, they would plummet in the goo.

And of course they’d briefly vanish, and of course the goo would flare, and of course it couldn’t eat them, so it spat them in the air.

Thus, a cloud of laughing children, and their teachers, less content, rose and fell above the disappearing asphalt and cement.

For the children, being children, this was unexpected play, but their laughter turned to howling, and to screaming, and dismay, as the horrid things, made homeless by the gobbling of their lair, formed appalling, brawling, crawling infestations in the air.

Hairy spiders, and cockroaches, grubs and maggots tossed from their dark and damp and dreary little paradises lost. And the millipedes, the centipedes, the earwigs and the worms, all the creepies and the crawlies, all the wriggles and the squirms arose, divested, undigested, tossing helpless in the air, where they wriggled in the children’s toes and burrowed in their hair.

Now the Gobbly Goo, arriving where the lower school begins, ate the fat and glossy crows that ate the rubbish in the bins; plus the bins, of course, the benches, all the climbing ropes and bars.

Then it found the teacher’s car park and it gobbled all the cars. And it splashed against the classrooms at the bottom of the hill, and consumed the people in them, plus the building, plus the hill.

Mrs Barnum’s class and Mr Jack’s flew squeaking in the air.

There was laughter and delighting.

There was glumness and despair.

Mr Jack and Mrs Barnum, in surprise and disarray, wore processions of expressions, but they hadn’t much to say,

Being discombobulated, being puzzled and perplexed. Mr Jack was looking mortified, and Mrs Barnum, vexed.

But she wasn’t half as scary with her clothing gone astray, so the little kids would giggle, then they’d quickly look away.

To be continued.