Chapter 12 – What happened next!

Then all of a sudden the small world trapped inside the TV faded to black, as the video feed stops. An anxious Professor screamed “NOOOO”, and instantly leapt to his feet to search for the reason why his invention had stopped working. He fished out a small torch from his lab coat pocket and began to look at the huge machine. He searched from wall to wall looking desperately for the problem without finding any. The Professor then noticed that he was now all alone in the lab. But before he could shout for his Assistant, he heard a whistling sound coming from behind the large TV screen. He stalked up to the TV, (like a slightly overweight middle aged tiger after it’s pray) and as he poked his head around the side of the screen cautiously, he aimed his little torch at the source of the whistling noise. The light passed over electrical plugs for the machine. Next to the unplug mains power, for particle machine sat a small electric kettle. The Professor bent down to unplugged the kettle as his Assistant popped up in front of him from thin air and said “has it boiled all ready”. When the Assistant didn’t receive an answer he added “is it me or has it gotten a lot quieter around here, it’s probable just my imagination, so was it one lump or…”. In the eerie glow of the blue time

slime and the small torch, a very unhinged looking professor stared back at him. The professor reconnected the unplugged wires without taking his manic gaze off his assistant. He then picked up the kettle and walked over to his now petrified assistant, and said “I believe this is yours” handing over the kettle. As he walked away from his Assistant he added without looking back “I take two sugars, please”.
The professor made himself comfortable in his seat, and with the universal remote switched the TV back on. The video feed to the screen had jumped into fast forward because of the lack of power, and so the professor quickly pressed play.
The Teddy was sat on white sheets with the shape of two restless feet shuffling underneath the sheets behind it. In front of the teddy, hanging off the foot board of the bed was a notepad of scribbled writing. The feet moved back and forth, knocking the teddy over on to its stomach, and pinned to its back was an envelope. The feet came back again, giving the teddy bear another swift kick and rolling the bear over the side of the bed onto the floor below.
A short, wrinkly old doctor picked up the teddy and give it a little brush, and said in a clear British accent to the feet “how are you feeling today Mr Phillips, I thought that we had lost you at one point there. How’s your arm still in one piece?” The body in the bed shot out from the covers and sat up, its bandaged head turned frantically from one arm to the other making sure they were fully connected and working right. He looked satisfied as his hands patted their way down from his shoulders to each finger tip. The soldier