Several days ago, a resounding blast from my grenade practice led to the downfall and ultimate obliteration of the 'chandel-ear' in the main battle entryway.

Despite the Madame's several attempts to calm him down, the boy flew in to a (rather impressive) rage. Colour change and all. Even now, I don't understand how these humans can feel so strongly about inanimate objects; it's not like the said item was even sentient... (Was it? I will perform a thorough inspection of the house for any invading 'witchcrafts' after this report. Or I would, if the boy hadn't locked me in my room and Madame hadn't temporarily confiscated all my tools of war).

I studied this fallen 'chandel-ear', and, despite its originally complex structure, realised it was actually a very simple contraption. After several tests, I deemed it useless as a weapon of war, which seemed obvious after the boy claimed it had a decorative function. Pah, humans. Only they would waste their puny, expendable lives making decorations that serve no war purpose.

As a soldier of duty, I felt I needed to repair the damage done to my ranks, no matter how petty. Therefore, I holed myself up in my room for 5 days and 4 nights, gathering, fixing, welding and fusing until all 6 fingers were stiff and bleeding (not a very honourable way to suffer, but bloodshed is bloodshed). On the 5th night, I unlocked my door for the first time that week to find the household silent. It must have been an extremely early hour, for even Master Jenny and Madame Vastra's room was silent.

Nevertheless, I proceeded downstairs to the death-site of the previous 'chandel-ear' and started my work of hoisting my own creation to the ceiling. Being a soldier of such skill, it was done within 5 minutes, which allowed me several well-earned hours of being in a passive, natural state of unconsciousness, known to humans as 'sleep'.

I decided to watch the Madame and boy's joyful reaction to my replacement from a distance, that morning. I chose the hollow space under the stairs as my location of invisibility.

It was one of those rare mornings where the boy wakes from the dormant state at the same time as the Madame, so they both appeared at the same time, strolling down the stairs, limbs entangled (I believe the term is 'arm-in-arm'). Madame Vastra stopped mid-step as my glorious creation fell upon her eyes, which soon attracted the boy's attention as well. The boy called for me.

"Straaaaax!"

"At your service, fellow comrade!" I boomed, darting out from my place and giving them both a salute. "And may I have the glory of obliterating you both on the field of war!"

The boy reconfigured his visual systems on his face—which he calls 'rolling your eyes'—and sighed.

"Yeah, g'mornin' Strax. Now, what the bloody 'ell is that?" He pointed at my chandel-ear with the last word, which prompted me to proudly list the functions of my new and upgraded chandel-ear through the stairway bars.

"That is my replacement chandel-ear. The previous one I obliterated had no uses other than decoration, so I decided to create another which is vastly more improved. It can automatically lay mines in a 50 foot radius, spontaneously generate a laser web with over 7500 PPI, launch over 9000 heat seeking missiles, fire 12 fully-automatic laser guns, drop approximately 18 grenades per second, electrocute anything within 70 yards, and all this activated purely through highly sensitive motion detecti-"

Upon reflection, I realise the last, grand sweep of my arm must have trespassed the outer borders of the motion detection radius, for all the glorious functions I just listed went off all at once.

Once the smoke had cleared, I was rather disappointed to see a lot of the functions needed tweaking. The heat-seeking missiles all collided with each other, I hadn't charged the electrocution pack and only one laser gun fired. Even then, it was only two shots which both hit the boy's shoulder. However, the laser web had activated, and the entire front entryway was cross-crossed with lethal, red lines. The area was also now just a sad-looking crater, all traces of flat floor gone. Wonderful!

Vastra turned from the boy to glower down at me.

"Your creation," she spat, "hurt Jenny." She jumped over the banister to land in front of me. "You will pay, miserable-"

With an almighty crash, my chandel-ear fell to the ground, the laser web flickering and dying with it. I dashed over to it, grateful for an excuse to avoid Madame (not that she's scary when she's angry. No, not at all), and the boy joined me, out of sheer curiosity, I think. He was clutching his injured shoulder and limping around my chandel-ear, a strange expression on his face.

"Strax," he said, stopping his circling. "What're these?"

I looked up to see the Madame and the boy staring at me expectantly. Really, for a 'detective' pair, I expected better from them.

"Why, they're ears, of course."

Soldier's Footnotes: I realise now that I should have built in cold-seeking missiles, in case the likes of Madame's species ever decide to invade the stronghold.

What? I don't want-really? Human! I don't want to read this! Come back! ...Ugh, fine. The message reads: "Have a request or suggestion? Please let me know! Or, just drop a review. Thanks, Pipwolf."

Pathetic humans. Can't even carry their own messages. I wouldn't 'drop a review' if I were you, readers. Dropping a grenade is much more entertaining!

Strax, signing off.