Astropup the Hero

Description Astropup the Hero

Astropup returns! His friend, the Parrot, has been elected President of the World. Could power and success inflate his bird brain? And we hear from another character who quietly went missing a few episodes back.

Story by Bertie.

Read by Richard.
Proofread by Jana Elizabeth.

Astropup the Hero -

Hello,

This is Richard, and I'm here to introduce the latest chapter in the biography of our space travelling hound, Astropup. You may recall that his friend and comrade in the Space Force, the Parrot, has been elected President of the World. This was obviously something of a turning point in the history of their partnership. So we can hear the true inside story. Let me hand you over to someone who witnessed what happened next.

Hi there.. Surprised? Perhaps you weren't quite expecting me. And no, I'm not going to say 'bow wow' or 'woof woof' for you. In case you can't quite place my voice, I had better remind you - I'm Marlow, and last time I looked, I was definitely human. I hooked up with Astropup and his beaky bird friend, the Parrot, a few episodes back. At the time we were on the Planet of the Pirates. They called me -  The Man with the Laser Gun.

I hitched a lift back to Earth with my furry and feathered friends, but after we landed, I quietly melted away into the desert. I wasn't quite sure if I had broken any laws or regulations, but I wasn't keen to hang around and find out if the Space Force intended to court martial me. Officially, I was classified as Missing In Space - but you'd only know that if you have access to the Top Secret files about my mission.

Well I soon got myself a new identity - sneaking around under cover is a talent of mine - and I slipped back into the United States and went to stay with my Grandma in New Mexico.

When the election for World President took place, Gran and I stayed up all night to watch the coverage on TV. The result was something else. Hey, even I didn't see that one coming. The first ever World President was to be a parrot. I hadn't told my gran much about my space adventures. It was kind of all bottled up inside me - I mean cat people, space pirates, talking parrots - heck I couldn't make up my mind if I was out of my mind. But when that feathered face looked out of the screen of our TV set and pronounced: "I, a humble Parrot, stand before you as your first World President Elect."

It just kind of slipped out of me. I said:

"Hey Gran, I've hung out with that guy."

"Who dear?" she asked. Perhaps she thought I meant the TV reporter. She was kind of pretty.

"That squawk-box. The claw-footed wise fellow, Mr President, sir. That Parrot. I know him. Heck! I saved his scrawny neck from the cat people."

"Say Marlow, you do hang out with some low-lifes," commented my gran. Huh! Even my gran calls me Marlow. I do have a first name you know, but I have trouble remembering it sometimes.

After I had let go of that first fact - that I had travelled in space with a Parrot, the rest of the story was begging to pour out of me. It was no use telling it to Gran. She found all this talking-animal stuff too way out. I went upstairs and started to splurge my story into a voice transcription app. When I was done, I sent it to the media. Not just any old rag, but the one blog that counts. The New York Times. Would they take any notice? I didn't think so. I reckoned they would file it under C for Crazy.

But the next day I got a call from a young hack. A week later, my whole story was spread across the weekend edition.

"The man and dog who saved the President."

Yeah, I didn't leave out the role played by Astropup in this whole affair. I just told the story naturally, as it happened, and he kind of came out as the real hero. I hadn't intended it that way, but the Parrot was a bit part player. He got second or third billing. In fact, I might have given the impression that he was kind of, well, an irritating hanger-on.

Suddenly the guy in the news, the saviour of the planet, was no longer Mr President Sir Parrot, but his four legged side kick with a cold nose and a warm heart. Man's best friend, you might say.

I flew to New York to hook up with Astropup in a TV chat show. It was the first time I had been in the Big Smoke since the election. I wasn't prepared for the change that had taken place. I mean, he was everywhere. On posters, in shop windows, on flags, up in neon lights, on screen savers - even on lapel badges and kiddie's lunch boxes. You couldn't get away from his image, the silhouette of a Parrot.

This parrot propaganda turned my guts. You could say I felt as sick as a parrot. I said as much on the chat show. The host went kind of pale - like we didn't have free speech anymore. The interview was kind of short. They soon switched to a mum of 13 kids who had written a musical about her life that was opening on Broadway.

I went back to my gran in New Mexico. I wasn't too surprised when the next day the Marshalls from the Space Agency came battering on the door. I wasn't exactly under arrest, but they gave me an invitation that might prove fatal if I refused.

They blindfolded me and bundled me into a black helicopter. I sat in darkness listening to the sound of the chopper blades for some hours. When we landed and they opened up the door I could smell the sea. They frog-marched me, still blindfolded, across hot sand that I could feel through the soles of my shoes. Soon we hit the cool of air conditioning and marble. The blindfold came off and the light struck me in the eyeballs. I was led down corridors. The sign of that Parrot was everywhere. Speakers played jungle squeaks and squawks.

Then we waited outside some huge doors guarded by macho types armed with lasers. We had been there about two minutes when I heard the sound of panting.

"Ruff Ruff!" barked a familiar voice. I turned round and smiled. I was looking at my old friend Astropup. I don't know why dogs always look like they are smiling. There sure wasn't much to smile about in our predicament but the site of this ever genial animal did my heart good. The guards saluted, the doors opened, and we entered the throne room.

Now an interior designer I ain't. Who am I to pronounce on what is or isn't tasteful? But if you think this decor was tasteful then you are probably a parrot. Basically there were two colours. Green and Gold. The light came from green and gold trees. The floor was green marble. The walls and the ceiling were gold - I mean solid gold. There were statues of gold elephants and green monkeys. Scores of live green budgies fluttered and tweeted about the place. I don't know what kind of nuts or worms they were eating, but even their poops, which they happily splattered all over the floor, were gold. I am glad to say some of that sticky stuff landed on one of the guard's head.

And in the centre of it all, there was a golden perch. And on this perch, wearing a bow tie and a pair of wrap-around shades, stood the President.

"Well, well well," he squarked, "how about this for a couple of heroes?"

I was thinking he was going to give us a piece of his bird mind before calling for the guards to take us outside and zap us with their lasers - that was my most optimistic assessment of the situation.

"Woof!" said Astropup wagging his tail. I sure wish I understood woof language.

"Well see here Mr President Sir," I said. "If anyone's to blame it's me. I’m ready to take the punishment for shooting my mouth off. But your canine friend here has always remained loyal and true, and it's not his fault if I bigged him up in the story of what happened out there."

"Oh," said the Parrot. "That's all fine and dandy by me. I'm the first to acknowledge that Astropup is a model member of the Space Force. Loyal, brave, intelligent."

"Wu?" said Astropup. I got the feeling he wasn't used to being called intelligent.

"And you Marlow, why you're a great guy too. In fact, you’re the perfect candidate to accompany Astropup on his next and most important mission."

"Well, okay... " I said uncertainly.

"Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to travel into space and to capture a cat person. Our scientists need to carry out a close examination of a live specimen to understand what it is we are up against."

"It kind of makes sense I suppose," I said, "but what if we don't choose to accept it?"

"Well now," said the President, "that is a good question, because you see there isn't any other choice. Your flight leaves tomorrow.