Halfbakery Marines

Blithely unaware, the troll sat, tapping away one-handed at an aged IBM keyboard. The exclamation key was worn down so thin the button face was beginning to disintegrate.

This halfbakery place took itself so seriously! They were all eggheads, with no sense of fun, who just couldn't keep quiet whenever they saw an idea posted that wasn't "their cup of tea". Three ideas in four hours and there had been more than two hundred comments so far. They just piled on like small, amorous dogs on a fresh leg.

"The window must be open", thought the troll, as a cool breeze made him shiver. The gloved hand struck like a cobra, stuffing a stale, mouldy pastry of some sort into his mouth, while the other hand expertly wrapped duct tape around his head and mouth. A thin, almost invisble rope whipped around his body, strapping him to his chair.

In the reflection on his monitor he saw a figure who looked like Marcel Marceau, wearing a striped shirt with a HB logo on the chest, whiteface, an eyepatch and a tricorn hat. A robot parrot sat on one shoulder, whispering in an ear, very quietly. The troll realised he was in trouble when he saw the multiple croissant chevrons on the upper sleeve of his assailant's battle blouse. This was a seasoned 'baker, cruel and quickwitted in a way he aspired to be. The troll noticed a sidearm strapped to the woman? 's thigh... It looked like a supersoaker pistol, filled with some thick, yellow goop.

The mystery thug pulled a clown costume over his head, then tattooed a fishbone logo on his forehead with deft, economical strokes, before hanging a [marked for deletion] sign around his neck, then exiting via the opened window. Not a single word had been uttered during the entire exchange.

In the background, the troll could hear his TV telling him that hundreds of people around the country were being found in similar situations, while others had disappeared entirely, simply leaving an enigmatic note, "This account is no longer active".

The newsreader then moved on to a story about billboards being vandalised across the country, with correct spelling and grammar being spraypainted across the face of thousands of signs in the last 24 hours. Small devices, similar to inkjet printers were used to catapult gobbets of paint onto the signs, allowing a single person to alter hundreds of advertising signs each day.

Slowly, it dawned on his tiny mind... the Halfbakery Marines had invaded!