attack of the souped-up ramen noodle brigade

we had just walked through the door, armfuls of corn chips, coca-cola, jaffas, strawberry and creams, choc milk, bbq shapes, chilli dip, and winona ryder goodness, when we were swiftly set upon by a dastardly brigade of mutant ramen warriors.

“creepy!” my super-sidekick yelled as he was thrown to the ground by two rather ugly mutations. “we’re under attack! forget me! run away and seek revenge for my death at the hands of my merciless noodle captors who will no doubt torture me for many years with all kinds of insane devices! i shall not give in, though! i shall fight with my last breath and as that last breath comes, i know you will come and boil these buggers in a soup of their own making!”

i stepped back. “no! i will battle with you, side by side until the noodles are broken! their cunning shells are no match for my martial arts!”

“martial arts? creepy! you don’t know any martial arts!”

“ah, but i do! i never told you about my time in the jungles many years ago. when i got lost in the vine-like horror of our laundry, i was taken under the wing of a jedi chi master who taught me to defend myself from such evils as this! i will crush their noodley arms and gnaw on their bones!”

“look out! they’re all around you!”

“all the better to do - this!”

and this i did.