Pinballeth Wizar'd

Keto, Shakespeare, Coffey and the Tree stood in their isolation
booth, atop the Robot wars podium, Shakespeare holding the remote
control of Mercutio, whilst the other three stood quietly, watching
the very excitable crowd. To their left stood David Lister, hands on
the rail looking at the audience who were cheering.
"Next on the pinball challenge we have Ye Olde Ointment Team," he
said to the crowd, who cheered at the mention of the team's name.
"Charles, fearful am I, what if we mess up?" asked Shakespeare. He
looked towards Coffey for some support. She kissed his nose and
whispered in his ear for him not to worry.
"Well," said Keto, pushing one of the big pink tree's branches away
from his face annoyedly. "If you mess up, then I'l drop you from the
team."
"What?" asked Coffey. "You can't do that."
The Big Pink Tree rustled in defiance.
"You stay out of it, you overgrown matchstick!" he shouted at the tree.
"It was a joke, ok?" said Keto turning back to his two teamates. "I
won't really get rid of Shakespeare. But I will put him in the
Ointmentator," he added. Shakespeare gulped.
"Controlling Mercutio," began Lister, "Is the illsutrious Doctor
Shakespeare. Shakespeare, how do you feel?" he asked.
"Nauseous my good fellow," admitted Shakespeare, shaking slightly.
He looked at the course in front of him and took in all of the various
point areas and blinked a few times.
It would not be easy.
"Well, considering you're controlling a large fridge on wheels, I'm
not surprised," laughed Lister, the audience joining in.
"3...2...1...go!" said Lister and the clock began to tick.
Shakespeare looked at the remote control and pushed forwards before
closing his eyes and praying that he somehow managed to get the barely
movable fridge around the course and acquire maximum points along the
way. He blocked the shouting of the audience and began to push the
buttons.
1 minute and thirty seconds later....
The whistle blew and Shakespeare opened his eyes.
He looked at the course. The ointmentator was lting on it's side,
leaking over on of the house robots, and on a pile of cans. Amassing
them a whopping 70 points.
"Did I succeed?" asked Sahkespeare turning around. The Big Pink
Tree had drooped, and was rustlign sadly. Coffey shook her head
gently, and put her arms around his neck.
"No my dear," she said quietly, hugging him.
He finally turned to Keto, whose face had a stony expression upon it.
"You didn't SUCCeed, but you did SUCC," he said unhappily.
Lister began speaking again as the Olde Ointment Team dejectedly
walked over the battefield and retrieved their upturned bot.
"70 points for the Ointmentator crew, and currently last place in
the pinball match. Lets see if they can do better in the Eliminator
match, but with that pile of junk, I'd not be putting any money on
that team," he pointed to the fridge which Shakespeare and Keto began
wheeling off the arena and into the working area, where the rest of
their team waited.
"We can'st hardly get anyeth worse," said Shakespeare happily to
Keto. Keto glared at Shakespeare and snatched the remote control.
"We can with you piloting. I shall do the next match, okay?"
"Yes sir," said Shakespeare, his expression retruning to one of
ashamedness. He was certain he'd blown it for his team. He'd have to
think of a way to make it up to them. While Keto began to arc weld,
Shakespeare began to think hard about what he could do.