Part 30 (1/2)

Guide Note: An aging constant had once flouted the regulations and had two nice cus.h.i.+ons implanted in his b.u.t.tocks. Unfortunately he picked up a microscopic windborne parasite in the jungle city of Rhiis Bhuurohs and it ate him alive, foam first. The parasite knocked out six decks of the Vogon cruiser before the mess hall rations killed it. and had two nice cus.h.i.+ons implanted in his b.u.t.tocks. Unfortunately he picked up a microscopic windborne parasite in the jungle city of Rhiis Bhuurohs and it ate him alive, foam first. The parasite knocked out six decks of the Vogon cruiser before the mess hall rations killed it.

Jeltz cranked open his jaw to holler for Mown, but saw from the corner of his eye that the little constant was already bobbing at his elbow.

Grrrmmmm, he thought (Vogons even think grunts). That boy moves pretty darned fast for one of us. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? That boy moves pretty darned fast for one of us. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

It was, he decided, a consider it later consider it later thing. The first priority was to exterminate the Earthlings. Jeltz had filled up quite a sac of rancour over this particular species and had spent his hypers.p.a.ce trance constructing overkill scenarios. This time there would be no survivors. thing. The first priority was to exterminate the Earthlings. Jeltz had filled up quite a sac of rancour over this particular species and had spent his hypers.p.a.ce trance constructing overkill scenarios. This time there would be no survivors.

'This time there will be no survivors,' he a.s.sured Mown, in case the boy thought Daddy was leaking kroompst kroompst.

'Badabingo,' said Constant Mown.

Jeltz frowned, though with all the fleshy planes on his brow, only a close relative could read his expressions. 'What did you say?'

'Badabingo. It's an expression. Used on Blagulon Kappa, I believe.'

'Expression!' warbled Jeltz, a full octave above his usual range. 'We do not use expressions!'

Mown took two quick backward steps, but did not fall over.

'Of course not. Thank you for reprimanding me, Da-Prostetnic. I am fortunate to have such a role model.'

Jeltz huffed, mollified. 'Expressions, indeed slogans in general, are only acceptable in poetic or ironic contexts. For example, as I launched the torpedoes on the eco-planet Foliavintus, I said, ”Remember to recycle electrical devices.”'

'Most diabolical, Prostetnic.'

Such is the tenuous grasp of the Vogon on the tenets of humour that Jeltz proceeded to explain: 'This was funny in a mean-spirited way because ”Remember to recycle electrical devices” was something of a government jingle on Foliavintus.'

'Oh, I get it.'

'And also, once these particular explosive electrical devices were used, they could not be recycled. In fact, no electrical devices would be recycled ever again.'

'Bada Nice one.'

'There's more.' Jeltz swilled bile in his cheeks then swallowed. 'In a very real way, my torpedoes were recycling the entire planet. Do you see?'

Mown's skin was emerald pale. 'Yes. I get all the levels.'

Jeltz bobbled his head experimentally and was pleased to find it completely clear of hyper-happy fugue.

'Think bitter thoughts,' he advised his crew over the intercom. 'Find something to hate and soon you will be yourself. May I suggest the Earthlings on this tiny planet below us. Surely after all the bother their extermination order has caused, they are more than deserving of your ire.'

It seemed as though they were, and soon the Business End Business End was clanking and was clanking and ka-chunking ka-chunking with the ominous sounds of torpedo tubes being loaded and plasma cannons being brought to bear. with the ominous sounds of torpedo tubes being loaded and plasma cannons being brought to bear.

'Twinkle twinkle,' recited Jeltz, 'Little planetoid.'

He glanced down at Mown.

'Rhyme?'

Mown's teeth clicked as he thought. He knew what was expected.

'Ahm... Soon we commit you, To the void.'

'Excellent, my son,' burbled Jeltz. 'Sometimes you almost make me happy.'

The Town of Cong, Innisfree, Nano In the banquet hall, Thor and Zaphod were up to their armpits in a congratulatory buffet, totally oblivious to the utter annihilation bearing down from above, relatively speaking. Relatively speaking, that is, with regard to the term above above. The annihilation would be utter no matter what it was related to.

'You were wonderful, sir,' said an Ameglian Major cow, tenderizing his own hindquarters with a mallet strapped to one hoof. 'The way you handled that big hammer.' The cow imitated Thor's doomstrike with the meat tenderizer. 'Honestly, I felt chills.'

Thor tugged on a beard plait. 'Really? You don't think I overplayed it? Maybe a modern G.o.d should hold back a bit on the melodrama.'

Zaphod emerged from a pitcher of Gargle Blasters. 'Rubbish, Thor old man. You totally hammered that green guy. Then the mercy at the last minute. Total genius. Textbook G.o.d stuff.'

Thor cupped his mouth and whispered in case there was a microphone somewhere. 'I have to admit it, Zaph. You were right. With all these people adoring me, I feel more real, more alive than I have since the music days. I honestly think I can start to put the bad old days behind me.'

'We are back, baby. Religion is the new atheism. Once we have united all the colonists in faith, there's a whole Universe out there. Imagine how many tiny hammers we could sell.'

'I know a guy on Asgard. He's got a whole bunch of elves in his forge. One call from me and he's knocking those little Mjollnirs out.'

Zaphod plunged his arm into what was either a soya-based soup or a half-full spittoon. Either way, he slurped on his fingers with great gusto. 'Now you're talking, Thor. Time is a wheel and the good old days have come around again.'

'Nice proverbial blend, sir,' said the cow. 'Very appropriate. How about a nice steak to top yourself off? I can do mince if you don't like chewing.'

Zaphod ignored the animal. 'We have to put together a big event. Defeating Wowbagger is good for a colony or two, but for reviving your career across a few galaxies, we need something of umbilical proportions.'

'I think you mean...' began the cow, then stopped himself, intuitively realizing that correcting the diner was no way to get oneself butchered and devoured.

Zaphod was in full entrepreneurial flow. 'I don't know. Let's say there's a plague.'

Thor wasn't convinced. 'Come on, Zaph. I can't stop a plague with a hammer.'

'Okay. A drought. You could hammer through solid rock to an underground river.'

Thor picked up the cow and popped it into his mouth, barely giving the animal time to splutter its delighted thanks.

'I don't know. People have pretty good geologists these days. Underground rivers are not hard to find.'

'Something with locusts then. Or volcanoes.' Zaphod clambered on to the table so that he could look into Thor's eyes. 'This is the break we've been waiting for. You are going to be bigger than ever, I can feel it.'

'Do you think so? Really?'

'Absolutely.'

The banquet hall door opened and Hillman Hunter stuck his head in through a slice of outdoors.

'How-de-do, my ventripotent benefactors,' he lilted. 'All boozed up to the eyeb.a.l.l.s and ready for business? I have the official deity contracts here.'

Zaphod nodded rea.s.suringly at his client. 'It's okay, I had a look. Standard G.o.d duties.'

'Holy days?'