Sir Wrongalot woke up with a crick in his neck and a goat hoof in his face. Buttercup had decided that his head was the perfect pillow, and she wasn't about to move.
"Off, you furry tyrant!" he grumbled, shoving the goat aside. Buttercup let out an offended bleat and pranced away, probably plotting revenge.
Today was supposed to be a day of rest, but Bernard the Beverage Bard had other ideas.
"We're out of biscuits!" he announced, holding up an empty tin with dramatic flair.
"So?" Princess Facepalm muttered, sipping her morning tea.
"So?! We can't have a proper British teaparty without biscuits!" Bernard cried, clutching the tin to his chest like it was a long-lost lover.
"Who said we were having a teaparty?" Princess Facepalm asked, her face halfway into her palm as usual.
"I did! And it starts in an hour!"
Assembling the Heist Crew
Determined to save the day (and the teaparty), Sir Wrongalot declared, "Fear not, citizens of Blundertopia! I shall retrieve the sacred biscuits!"
"But we don't have any biscuits," Bernard pointed out.
"Then we'll steal some!" Sir Wrongalot exclaimed, brandishing his bent pool noodle.
Princess Facepalm groaned. "This is going to be another disaster, isn't it?"
Joining the biscuit heist team were Bernard, Buttercup, and a mysterious man who had been hanging around the castle garden for weeks, claiming to be a "professional biscuit thief." His name was Trevor, and he smelled faintly of jam.
Breaking into the Biscuit Factory
The Blundertopia Biscuit Factory was heavily guarded by an elite force of biscuit knights—tiny, crumbly soldiers made of shortbread and pure rage.
"Alright," Trevor whispered as the group crouched behind a bush. "Here's the plan. Buttercup will distract the guards, Bernard will sing a distracting song, and Sir Wrongalot will… uh… do whatever it is you do."
"I provide moral support!" Sir Wrongalot said proudly.
"Sure, let's call it that," Trevor muttered.
The Distraction
Buttercup trotted up to the biscuit knights, her mushroom hat slightly askew. She bleated loudly, causing the knights to turn their crumbly heads.
"What is that thing?" one knight asked.
"Looks like a goat," said another.
"I think it's wearing a mushroom."
Before they could investigate further, Bernard appeared, banging his ladle against a teapot and singing at the top of his lungs:
"Oh biscuits, oh biscuits, you're so round and neat,
I'll eat you with jam, or perhaps some meat!"
The biscuit knights were so confused by the song that they didn't notice Trevor sneaking into the factory through a window, followed by Sir Wrongalot, who got stuck halfway through.
"Why is this window so tiny?!" Sir Wrongalot hissed, flailing his legs.
"Maybe because it wasn't meant for humans?" Trevor replied, pulling him through with a loud pop.
The Great Biscuit Showdown
Inside the factory, rows upon rows of biscuits were being baked, iced, and packaged by tiny machines that looked like they were designed by someone who'd never seen a real factory.
"There they are," Trevor whispered, pointing to a giant golden tin labeled Royal Biscuit Reserve.
As they approached the tin, a loud voice boomed through the factory. "HALT, INTRUDERS!"
A massive biscuit golem stomped into view, its body made of layers of chocolate and cream. It wielded a rolling pin the size of a tree trunk and looked extremely angry for something made of dessert.
"Leave now, or face the wrath of the Biscuit King!" the golem roared.
"Never!" Sir Wrongalot shouted, brandishing his pool noodle. "Those biscuits belong to the people of Blundertopia!"
The golem swung its rolling pin, narrowly missing Sir Wrongalot, who tripped over his own feet and fell into a pile of custard creams.
Trevor, meanwhile, had climbed onto the golem's back and was trying to dismantle it with a spoon. "This thing's tougher than it looks!" he yelled.
Buttercup Saves the Day
Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, Buttercup burst through the factory wall like a furry wrecking ball. She headbutted the golem with surprising force, causing it to drop its rolling pin and stagger backward.
"Go, Buttercup!" Sir Wrongalot cheered, still stuck in the custard creams.
The goat delivered one final, devastating headbutt to the golem's biscuit torso, and it crumbled into a pile of crumbs and chocolate chips.
The Return
The group returned to the castle triumphantly, carrying the Royal Biscuit Reserve tin. Bernard immediately began setting up the teaparty, while Princess Facepalm stared at the chaos they had left in their wake.
"You destroyed half the factory for a tin of biscuits?" she asked.
"It was a necessary sacrifice," Sir Wrongalot said solemnly, crumbs in his hair.
Buttercup let out a victorious bleat, her mushroom hat now adorned with a small biscuit crown.
As the teaparty commenced, Sir Wrongalot raised his cup of tea. "To bravery, biscuits, and Buttercup, the true hero of Blundertopia!"
Everyone cheered (except Princess Facepalm, who just groaned).
To be continued… because there's always more stupidity to come!