As the uber-gigantic bubble-gum-Godzilla continued smashing its way through the toppling metropolis of Trifle City, forging an unbridled path of mayhem and destruction, the civilians down below wailed and ran about panicked in every conceivable direction. (Every conceivable direction on a horizontal plane, obviously; those residents who could levitate through the vertical had long escaped via such a gift.)

  Indulging in the bedlam of all this narcissistic havoc, Gumma-Mumma rode her glistening gob-born creation as would a bull rider atop a bucking bronco of bubble, her lips to its crown as though she were suckling a big Jelly Baby's noggin. From the sounds of her maniacal hooting, akin to a ship's horn doing blast up a skirt (or something like... like... like a duck doing sick in a siren?.. whatever) she was clearly having a whale of a time!

  Down on the streets below, however, our two heroes were having a time not quite so...erm...whaley? (Whatever.)

  “We have to stop that Mumma before she lays waste to the entire city!” Detective Pilchard burped, throwing himself to the ground in avoidance of a gigantic gummy foot. Having picked himself up he threw himself in the direction of his partner; he missed by several feet, bouncing back off a lamppost. “Could your amazing crumpet-powers not bring that monster crumbing to its knees?” he called upon Crumpet-Splayed-Out-On-The-Ground-Nearby Man. “Could you, say, create an equally as towering colossus of crumpet and then take the fight to it, Kaiju style? Boy O boy, if you could, that'd be like so cool! And a fitting climax to this adventure, I reckon!”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Not wanting to disappoint either the detective or his dear readers, Crumpet-Hands Man squat did strain until his crumpet-hands bulged and his belly gurgled and rump went all red – but all to no avail. No crumpet-colossus did he birth, only a quickly clenched rectal 'parp'.

  “I am so very sorry, my dear detective, but it seems I am incapable of such a feat as manifesting my own crumpet monster,” Crumpet-Hands Man sighed regrettably, taking a moment to change his underwear on account of another late-arriving 'parp'. “As such, I fear we cannot tackle Gumma-Mumma head-on, not while she is in control of that sticky leviathan.”

  “But if not head-on, then how-on?” the detective asked-on, mid-throw n' bounce off another lamppost. “How can we hope to topple her?”

  As the detective and our partially-panted hero continued to run/throw themselves in avoidance of the gum monster, like two flies under some great globbery swatter, the gruesome creature continued to stamp upon every structure beneath its mighty girth; this included Trifle City's most resounding water tower, the vessel exploding under the creature's foot like a melon under a mallet. The tidal wave downpour of liquid detritus almost washing our duo away; indeed, with so much water suddenly sloshing around its ankles, even the monster momentarily stumbled and lost its footing.

  “Hmm... Now that gives me an idea,” Crumpet-Hands Man announced, wringing the water from his cape and underpants. (He would hate either to shrink.) “Detective,” he said, turning to look over his shoulder heroically, “can you fly a helicopter?”

  “No.”

  A treading of the detective's foot changed his answer to “Yes!” Thus the detective was capable.