(Essentially a derpy doodle equivalent in written format of the rest of a comic I was unable to finish.))



Pokeyoo continued with its glaring and generally immature expressions directed at the utterly innocent wall for several seconds. Perhaps even minutes. Whatever the case was, there was indeed several of some form of time measurement involved. Eventually it decided to leave with much prissy princess muzzle pointed up in the air though.

Finally left with the Qwuedeviv declared, Foul Earth Wuff Menace once more, Spork rummaged through a most ominous looking assortment of equipment it had placed on the table with its tail. Meanwhile Mr. Wuff whose name was actually Wolfieface and beyond that, actually Lowell, but we are ignoring that fact with run on sentence, did nothing. Primarily and specifically because he could not readily get up—which is likely why he had stayed there any length of time. That or he was just dumb, both entirely possible. Anyway He watched with eyes—his eyes as a matter of fact. His very own pair of eyes of light blue color. The last fact of which was relatively unimportant.

After some time, far more time than was required to actually go through the meager supply of violence, Spork snagged up the highly less violent looking rolled newspaper that was conveniently amidst the things to deal with troublesome wuffs as Qwuedeviv intelligence had allowed them to learn. It smacked it against one hand and looked to Wuff who seemed to understand the seriousness of his situation.

“Hey you’re not…still mad about that book thing, are you?” The Wuff asked with a bit of a nervous laugh.

Spork grinned, its jagged shark like teeth visible in a wide stretch across its face. “Maybe.”

It nonchalantly leaned over part of the table on its elbows and casually whapped Wuff on the nose. Wuff frowned and whimpered, for doggies and wuffs alike did not like rolled newspapers. Wuff probably didn’t even like not rolled newspapers, because they contained many words and required reading.

Spork whapped Wuff on the nose again, waited a moment and then did so again. It chuckled in only the way a creepy Spork could—the kind of laugh that was from a soul amused by its job as an interrogation officer far too much.

The door behind Wuff’s chair at the table opened and a bluish gray furry face peeked around the corner, trying to hold a hat that was much too large for it in place.

“Heeeey!” It whined, and dropped the hat on the floor inside. It huffed and kicked at the hat. “Dumb hat. I don’t like you either!”

“Welcome to the party, Smiley.”

“I don’t like this party.” Wuff whined.

“You don’t count.” Spork whapped Wuff on the nose again ever so casually.

“You were supposed to wait!” Smiley continued complaining as it made its way over, nearly tripping on the hem of the thing the author forgot the name of and doesn’t want to look up right now so shall call a buttcape.
With additional whining, hissing and other outbursts of anger, Smiley crawled on top of the table with most of the officer uniform that was very much not its own intact. It took a moment to catch its breath and put the boot back on that had come off one foot.

“Smiley. Your, erm, whatever that thing is called is on backwards.”

Smiley glanced down at its uniform, “Oh. I was wondering when Command had decided to start wearing dresses.” Its attention returned to Wuff, whose nose it poked with a gloved finger. “Yooou, Mr. Wuff.”

Wuff tried to stare at the finger upon his nose for a moment and then licked it. Smiley screeched in terror and hopped back, fur fluffing up all over. It dropped down to its hands and feet, hissing and batting just out of Wuff’s reach while Wuff merely smiled.

“Foul creature.” Smiley grumbled after a moment and retreated across the table.

“Corporal! Hand me the…the uh…” Smiley turned around and pointed at what it wanted. “That thing.”

Spork picked it up from its spot on the floor with its tail and tossed it in Smiley’s general direction. The little feline glared when it soared over its head and near Wuff where it had to traverse yet again to retrieve.

“Alright Wuff, you foul beast. You must paaay for your evil waaays at the nonexistent hands of this paddle and delightfully fantastic bouncy ball on a string thing!”

“Yeah? And what evil might that be?”

Smiley’s eyes widened as its grip loosened on the paddleball thing. It looked to Spork who merely shrugged.

“That’s classified.” Smiley answered after a moment and then bounced the bouncy ball off of Wuff’s nose.

It missed the paddle entirely for it had horrible hand-eye coordination and thusly the ball rebounded and bounced off its own muzzle as well. It hissed and threw the thing across the room.

No sooner had it done so than they were yet again interrupted; this time by the conveniently placed screen which was even more conveniently a direct link to HQ. Even more spontaneously conveniently, it was one of the four top commanders who somehow magically knew all of what was going on, aka someone had probably called and told them and got through to them for entirely unapparent reasons. Anyway!

“What do you think you’re doing?” The Qwuedeviv currently on the screen hissed.

“Um…” Smiley cast a glance at the Wuff who seemed relatively content to be there for some reason. “Just punishing foul Earth wuffs for undermining the Qwuedeviv.”

“You can’t do that.”

“We can’t do that?” This time it was Spork who spoke up. “But that’s almost three quarters of our job.”

“And four quarters make a DOLLAR.” Smiley added. “I can buy candy for a dollar here.”

Silence. Then another head popped up on the screen—this one clearly not Qwuedeviv. The Qwuedeviv who had been on the screen earlier bristled and gave a quiet hiss at the sudden happy Qwujakuhl. It batted the happy creature away but not before it got a chance to wave at everyone.

“That all may very well be.” The Qwuedeviv’s eyes narrowed. “But it breaks one of the terms of our agreement with the Qwujakuhl. Qwujakuhl cousin species are off limits to our pointlessly aggressive behavior unless we have an actual adequate reason.”

Spork shrugged. “Meh.”

The screen turned itself off again through unexplained technological means. Smiley stood silently. So did Wuff, except he was sitting and not standing because SOMEONE, someone unkind, had tied him to a chair. Smiley glanced at Wuff. He might not be particularly thrilled by this entire idea it had had.

“Ten seconds.” Spork declared. “I’ll give you ten seconds to run before I let him go.”

Smiley mewed and ditched its boots as it bolted for the door and then out of the room, past Pokeyoo who had apparently only gone to sulk outside the door.

Spork counted to ten on its clawed fingers, stretching each as it did so. Then needlessly aggressively freed the Wuff and pushed him over backwards in the chair.

“Have fun.” It grumbled as it pulled up another chair and kicked back against the table to read the newspaper it had hit Wuff with earlier since it had nothing better to do. At least Wuff chasing Smiley around would keep the fur-brained commander out of its fur for a while.