David The Drunk Buckingham Palace Guard

Oh sorry there is actually a Part 2.

Ah. As the delicious alcohol slithered down David's throat, he was again reminded of the joys of the 'Havin' a Party' pub. Nestling his arms and head onto the counter, his mind began to haze into its optimal, blissful, drunken state. His eyes fluttered shut, his heroic rescue of the royal crown flickering like a film in the back of his mind. Finally, he could get some res-

"Excuse me mate,", the grouchy voice bellowed, "that'l be £2.50.". Rearing his head from the desk, David matched the tired gaze of the bartender, who slid the guard's drink to his side and polished it delicately with a wet wipe. "Suppose, if ya can't pay, I can just take that fancy sword innit. Look about' £3.". The money crashed on the desk in a collection of pounds and pence, scattering over the wooden surface and glistening with the sweat from David's grimy hands. No way was he surrendering this sword now, he'd payed off the debt! Besides, from its jewel instructed design and shimmering silver blade, perhaps there was more to it than met the eye. It was in Buckingham Palace after all! Fortunately, his last pay check was enough to suffice the drink. Swooping the coins under his arm, the bartender staggered off to attend to other customers, and David sat in silence. Back to being drunk!

"I thought I'd find you here.". The high pitch voice shattered David eardrums - seemed like the drink was kicking in! He didn't bother to lift his head, only shifting it slightly to the side to see a hooded figure concealed within a pale crimson robe, with almost stubby hands gloved in some radical pink. David murmured some gibberish in response, before shutting his eyes again. "Don't ignore me." The voice splintered through his brain again, almost seeming to swirl around his senses with the might of a hurricane. He'd had enough.

Bolting upright, David snapped his eyes open and squeaked: "Listen mate! I've had a marvveljus day, and I would just lieeeifyajust SPPPPPPHHHUUUUSSHHHHHHHHH!". Pressing a hand to his lips, he glared at the robed figure only to realize... people were leaving the pub. Slowly, discretely, but they were leaving. "Ay mate!" David called out to one of those leaving, drunken fear lining his face. He knew it well, the fear of the family, and the endless nagging – SO MUCH NAGGING! But the pub didn't close till exactly 11:46 and 26 seconds, and by his estimations based on the humidity in the pub the alignment of the stars outside: it was only 11:30 and 14 seconds! THOSE TRAITORS! As the scurried out the pub, they seemed to glance at the robed figure, and it gave them the adrenaline shock to actually be able to stand after a few rounds of alcohol. That's when David knew, he was in freaking danger.

"You shouldn't be dri-dri-drinnnkinng", the childlike stuttering, while almost as if they couldn't pronounce the word, gave a far more eerie emphasis to what they were saying. It was almost as if, he felt a twinge of... guilt? "What are ya-", but before David could scramble together any more of a sentence, he was cut off. "I'll do the talking."

"People seemed to be sc-sc-scccarreeddd of me. Good. That's what I was going for. My name, makes grown men ccrrrummmblllle; they are like.... puppets.", that last word, clear and precise slashed through David's drunken haze, as his vision of the figure became more clear. "I like my puppets. I can tell even the most powerful men in the world, that my land is the best. The Prime Minister really likes me. And the children, oh the children, how they adore me. But the parents don't. I'm a naaagggg, a nuiiiissssannnceee. So they will be... disposed of.". Who was this?! And that's when David realized, something which he thought was the alcohol playing tricks on him. A snout. A big, pink, snout, sticking out from the shadow beneath the crimson hood. AND THE HANDS! Three, NOT FIVE, THREE STUBBY CHUBBY FINGERS! And the pink gloves – they were hands. Whatever David was sitting next to in the 'Havin a Party' pub, at 11:44 and 18 seconds... was not human.

Now, the figure turned fully to face David, locking with his petrified gaze. NO! IT COULDN'T BE! NOT HER! ANYONE BUT HER! PEPPA PIG! Flicking off her hood, it seeped into her red shirt, her hulking stature towering over David. Grasping his shiny sword, David rolled off his chair and sunk into a fight pose, thrusting his sword in front of him to guard against the piggy menace. "I've taken your children, your government! ALL SHALL BE UNITED UNDER PEGGA PIG WORLD, THAT WHICH GAVE ME CORPORAL FORM!". David tightened his grip. He had to stop her now, or else all his defense of Great Britain would be in vain! Rearing his blade above his head, David charged at Peppa. OINK! Who would win?