Part 20 (1/2)

Thor picked up his own beer and slammed it on the table so the head foamed over the rim.

'Knock yourself out,' he said. 'Bubbles and beer.'

Zaphod took this suggestion, as he did most suggestions, at face value and quickly stripped down to his underwear, remembering just in time to pop out the batteries before vaulting into the tankard. He submerged himself to the larynx lump and spent several moments executing a three-armed backstroke while spouting amber spumes.

'I like this place,' bubbled Zaphod. 'It has nice... what do you call it?'

'Toilets?'

'No. The other thing.'

'Ambience?'

'Yes. That's the one.'

Thor growled and the cloud over his head churned with electricity. 'This is the Well of Urd, Zaphod. Where the demi-G.o.ds and bottom feeders hang out. I come here so no one will bother me.'

'Bottom feeders!' said a golden bishop at Zaphod's eye level. 'That's a bit strong. You want to keep your temper in check, mate.'

Zaphod's attention was diverted by the flash of dozens of tanned, toned legs and hundreds of white teeth.

'Look, I do believe that those athletic-looking ladies are waving at us.'

Thor peered surrept.i.tiously across the bar room through his fingers. A group of statuesque Valkyrie were was.h.i.+ng blood off their ZugaNugget chest plates in slow motion with barrels of water.

'Forget it, Zaphod. They're out of your reach.'

Zaphod clambered from the tankard. 'Out of my reach? What are you talking about?'

'I'm talking about practicalities. Look at those girls. You couldn't reach past their s.h.i.+n plates with a trampoline. Come to think of it, they're out of my reach too.'

Zaphod shook himself like a hound. 'Come on! This is not the Thunder G.o.d that I know. I remember when my friend Thor disappeared for a weekend with a certain Miss Eccentrica Gallumbits and she ended up paying him.'

'Leave it, Zaphod.'

Zaphod quick-stepped into his trousers. 'This is just what you need, old pal. Me and you on a bender with a few beautiful ladies. I'm going over there.'

'No.'

'Oh, yes. I may be tiny, but I've got a certain je ne sais quoi je ne sais quoi.'

'A certain what?'

'I don't know what,' admitted Zaphod. 'But that's never stopped me before.'

Zaphod had a glint in his eyes that Thor knew well.

Guide Note: This glint was nothing to do with baby gloonts. Rather, it was a look of reckless romanticism which is similar to the one often found in the eyes of the Narcissifish of Flargathon, who are prepared to inflate themselves far beyond the elastic tolerance of their scales in pursuit of a mate. The male Narcissifish will cause himself to spectacularly explode if that is what it takes to impress the female. This is indeed an impressive feat and, in fairness to the female, she will appreciate the sacrifice and often be put out for several days before donning her best pearl necklace and heading back down to the reef.

Related Reading: Love Will Tear Me Apart by Scaly Finnster (RIP) by Scaly Finnster (RIP) 'Get back here, Zaphod. I'm warning you!'

Zaphod strode across the table, skirting a spittoon. 'This is what you need, Thor. You'll thank me later.' He turned his hi-beams on the Valkyrie. 'h.e.l.lo, ladies. You may not know me yet, but you're gonna miss me tomorrow.'

The Valkyrie's puzzled semi-smiles were distorted suddenly by a curved wall of gla.s.s. Zaphod thought for a moment that a sudden rush of Valkyrie l.u.s.t had superheated the air, but then realized that Thor had trapped him underneath a shot gla.s.s, which brought home quite forcefully just how tiny he was in this world. In fact, he seemed to be whatever size Thor felt like making him. Zaphod was sure he would not have fitted under the gla.s.s mere moments ago.

'Come on, Thor,' he cried, his voice bouncing back on him.

Strange, thought Zaphod. The acoustics in here make me sound whiny. The acoustics in here make me sound whiny.

'You're supposed to be my wingman,' he went on. 'We're a team. Remember those anti-grav dancers in Han Dold City?'

Thor dragged the gla.s.s towards him, skirting dangerously close to a complaining rook, and Zaphod was forced to dance along the table just to keep up.

'I've never been to Han Dold.'

'Really? I could've sworn... Must have been some other Asgardian. I'm flas.h.i.+ng on a red beard. Are you sure it wasn't you?'

'I'm sure, Zaphod. I'm a G.o.d we don't forget stuff, which is part of the problem.'

Thor lifted the gla.s.s and, as it went up, Zaphod fancied he felt himself grow until he felt more like Thor's equal and less like his pet.

'Problem? What problem?'

Thor thumped the table, sending beer slopping across the planks.

'What problem? What zarking problem, Zaphod? Are you serious? Are you actually asking me that?'

Zaphod frowned. 'That was a lot of questions. What problem... What zarking zarking problem... What was the third one again?' problem... What was the third one again?'

'Oh, there's no point,' said Thor, swallowing enough beer to drown a herd of mammaloids. 'Zaphod Beeblebrox couldn't give two buffa-biscuits about anyone but himself.'

This notion genuinely shocked Zaphod, as he believed that the act of sharing his personality with certain people was an act of love in itself.

'That is a terrible thing to say. I was your closest friend for years.'

'Until you persuaded me to post that video on the Sub-Etha,' said Thor bitterly. Over his head the robust little thundercloud turned flaccid, releasing a light drizzle. It didn't take a brainologist to work out the symbolism.

Zaphod found that he was now only a head shorter than the G.o.d. He plonked himself on a neighbouring stool, and thought he might offer a little joke to lighten the mood.

'I can never pa.s.s a nice stool,' he said, drumming the table. Boom boom Boom boom.

Thor patted Mjollnir's head. 'One more, Zaphod. One more.'

'Can't we forget that video? It's in the past and let me tell you something about the past. That's where it is, in the past. Remember that sentence about the past? That's in the past already. I can barely recall it, except that it contained the phrase the past the past. The past is made up of memories, which are made up of dead stuff that can't hurt you, like, say, a pointy stick could. Atoms and such. Quarks too, I shouldn't wonder. But wasted ones, all lying there doing nothing to anyone.'

'Do you have a point, Zaphod? Or is that in the past too?'

Zaphod draped an arm around Thor's ma.s.sive shoulders. 'My point is that maybe maybe I made a bad call with the video at the time, but ticket sales were down and we needed something to get your profile back on to the A list. The candid video thing was all the rage and, in fairness, some people did like it.' I made a bad call with the video at the time, but ticket sales were down and we needed something to get your profile back on to the A list. The candid video thing was all the rage and, in fairness, some people did like it.'

'Some people?' growled Thor. 'Like that cult on the party s.h.i.+p? Those weirdos certainly lapped it up. Unfortunately, the rest of the Galaxy, the normal normal mortals, didn't fancy the idea of their G.o.d trussed up like a backstreet deviant.' mortals, didn't fancy the idea of their G.o.d trussed up like a backstreet deviant.'