Many mills later...

  Locating Gumma-Mumma and the giant monster upon which she rode was not a difficult task; our two helicoptering heroes simply followed the valley of inner-city destruction which the creature had laid waste to.

  And such waste! Our heroes gasped with anguish at the mass of crushed buildings, toppled towerblocks, smashed roads, churned turf, a once thriving metropolis reduced to pile upon piles of broken bricks little larger than Legos. Crumpet-Hands Man would have remarked that this is what happens when one's oh-so-wise government decides to construct entire districts of suburbia out of cheap plastic play-stuff in order to save money, but now was not the time to indulge in political spite – now was the time to eradicate spite, with crumpets laden with reservoir water, no less!

  Less so, having spotted Gumma-Mumma's monster smashing a frenzy across the flattened horizon, our hero yelled to Detective Pilchard, “There she is! Hurry detective! Please do hurry!We must stop her” This our hero proclaimed with candid discomfort, for his water-logged pendulum-shaped arms were close to being torn from their water-logged shoulder-shaped sockets. And yet, never doubt him, our hero remained determined. “Hurry!” yelled he the more. “Let us get after that villain and end her destruction, once and for all!”

  With an eager quickening of the helicopter's whirly-blades this the detective did; however, upon coming to hover before the towering monster with all the intimidation of a Daddy-Long-Legs confronting Christ the Redeemer, our cross-eared detective cursed said eagerness, for he found himself having to utilize every ounce of his piloting skills (1/16 none) to avoid the beast's swatting attacks.

  “Puny little bug!” Gumma-Mumma bellowed via her creation, instigating a swing of its great gummy-arm. “I will squash you! Mash you! Turn you both into hero butter!”

  Despite the villain's hackneyed (albeit delicious) threats ringing in his eyes, Detective Pilchard managed to keep the helicopter from the creature at a literal arm's length; this he did by weaving between the surrounding skyscrapers, circling the creature's head like the most irritating of gnats. (A gnat with an upside-down overly hydrated hero dangling from it.)

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Are still you okay down there?” the detective asked of said dangler.

  “Yes,” Crumpet-Hands Man replied with much wince, unable to conjure a more witty response at this time. “Yes... Do not worry yourself. I am okay.”

  *Burp*

  “Sorry?”

  “Yes!”

  *Pang*

  “What?”

  Blast!

  “Fair point.” bowed the blah.

  The tension. Fantastic...

  “Bwah! You don't stand a chance, Crumpet-Hands Man. Or dangle a chance!” chortled Gumma-Mumma, witticisms, not to mention chins, enough for three. “Once I've crushed this detestable city,” she said, stomping a building flat, “I shall block it up so tightly not a drop of liquid will ever pass through its constipated sewers again!”

  Once he'd finished sniggering at the word constipated (like blocked up... with poo!) the upturned Crumpet-Hands Man enquired from the downturned helicopter that surely, by causing such destruction to Trifle City's infrastructure, Gumma-Mumma was only creating the very dirty dystopia she had once endeavoured to prevent?

  “Nah. I'm cool with it,” she replied.

  “Righto,” our hero shrugged. “Just thought I'd check...”

  Plot hole successfully filled with several tons of narrative cement, our hero asked that the detective bring the helicopter right up in the creature's face. Here he ventured, mockingly, “Hey, I've got another question for you, Gumma-Mumma.”

  “Oh?” she sneered, drawing wide her monster's palms with the intention of crushing the helicopter and its two occupants between them; but first, “And what is your question, Crumps?”

  Crumps (Crumpet-Hands Man, I'll thank you) smirked. “Do you like to chew?”

  “Why of course,” the villain cackled. “I love nothing better than a good 'ol chew, like!”

  “Oh yeah?” our hero retorted with explicit smugness, taking aim with his two humongous palms, two proverbial shower heads of crumpet. “Well chew on this, you mumma!” he roared.