And Another Thing... Part 15

Ychune: Of course you recognize me. I'm your cousin. We shanked vorkle dumplings together, or would you prefer to forget about that?

Yjeet: Please, T'tal...

Ychune: That's Treasurer Ychune.

Yjeet: (sigh) Please, Treasurer Ychune, can we try to keep this civil?

Ychune: You'd know all about civil, wouldn't you? Very civil it was of you to drop around with some spare contraceptives to my betrothed last week. Most civil.

Yjeet: I explained that.

Ychune: (bark of bitter laughter) (bark of bitter laughter) Oh yes, the water balloon story. How could I forget. Oh yes, the water balloon story. How could I forget.

Yjeet: Was there something official you wished to present?

Ychune: There certainly was. I move that the society's name be changed from the Cult of Ridiculousness to the Cult of Ridiculousity.

Yjeet: Are you serious?

Ychune: Totally. Ridiculousness is a little dated, a little slapstick. I think Ridiculousity gives us more gravity.

Yjeet: Gravity? We're a society that celebrates the history of absurdist comedy as portrayed on cereal box cards. Gravity. That's ridiculous.

Ychune: Aha! You're making my point for me.

Yjeet: (stands abruptly) (stands abruptly) Yjenean loves me, not you. Get over it. And you can keep this stupid society. Yjenean loves me, not you. Get over it. And you can keep this stupid society.

Ychune: (also standing and pulling out a large machete that he had somehow concealed in his regulation striped comedy shorts) (also standing and pulling out a large machete that he had somehow concealed in his regulation striped comedy shorts) It's not stupid, it's ridiculous. There's a difference. It's not stupid, it's ridiculous. There's a difference.

The rest of the transcript is rendered illegible as blood streaks have dissolved the ink. Only three phrases can be deciphered in the final lines, and these are: 'electronically tested', 'call those comedy shorts' and 'of course elephants dream'. Draw your own conclusions.

Random crossed her arms and s.h.i.+fted her weight as if leaning into a strong wind. 'I know what you're thinking, Bowerick Bowerick. You're thinking that any second now I'll run out of things to say and resort to "I hate you" and a stomping exit.'

'I was was rather hoping our exchange would end in the traditional way.' rather hoping our exchange would end in the traditional way.'

'You don't get off that easily a second time. I've got the gripes of a pensioner and the energy of a teenager, so I can argue all day if that's what you want.'

Bowerick Wowbagger pinched the bridge of his nose. 'That is so removed from what I want, you have no idea.'

Trillian actually wrung her fingers as the exchange escalated. She was so far in the red as regards good-parenting credits that she had no idea where the high moral ground was. Even if she could occasionally glimpse it, as a myopic hiker glimpses a mist-sodden hill at night, she had no idea who currently occupied it or how to scale its slopes, should she accidentally b.u.mp into them.

'Random,' she snapped, then reeled it back in. 'I meant to say Random Random. Softly, like that. R-a-a-a-ndom.'

'What are you babbling about, Mother?'

Trillian felt the old virtual animosity building up, but she choked it back down. 'I want to be gentle with you, understanding. But babbling babbling? Babbling, Random honey? I'm more than a mother, I'm your friend. But I don't babble, darling.'

Random turned her Goth lasers on Trillian. 'Really? Seems to me like you're babbling now. Babbling and hovering. Shouldn't you be off covering a dog fair or something? Leaving me alone again with some perfect stranger, perhaps?'

Before Trillian could choose a reply then temper it with compa.s.sion born of guilt, Bowerick Wowbagger decided that he'd had enough for the moment.

's.h.i.+p,' he said. 'Tube the younger female.'

The mouth of a transparent tube popped down from the suddenly liquid ceiling and wavered over Random's head. It mimicked her movements, then whoomped whoomped down as soon as its predictive software reckoned it knew where the target was going next. down as soon as its predictive software reckoned it knew where the target was going next.

Random was enclosed in a soundproof tube and sent to sleep with a shot of twinkling green gas. Her face twitched and then a.s.sumed a strange expression that it took Trillian a moment to identify as a smile.

'Now I'm going to cry,' she said, gazing fondly at her drugged and imprisoned daughter. 'I haven't seen a smile like that for years. Not since Random was appointed Junior Judge in pre-school. She loved handing out those demerits.'

'The child is dreaming. I can show you the recording if you like,' offered the green s.h.i.+p's captain.

There was a ball of anger clogging Trillian's throat and now she had a legitimate reason to cough it up.

'How dare you!' she cried, eyes wide, chin thrust forward. 'You sedated my daughter.'

Wowbagger picked up a small pink sliver from the floor. 'And I cut off her index finger.'

Trillian gagged on her ball of anger. 'You what? You b.l.o.o.d.y what?'

'Technically, the s.h.i.+p did it. That tube has sharp edges she must have stuck her finger out at the last second. Possibly to deliver some obscene gesture.'

'My girl, my little girl. You sliced...'

Wowbagger tossed the digit towards the ceiling, which absorbed it into the plasma. 'Now, now. Not sliced sliced. Sliced implies deliberate intent. It was an unfortunate accident at worst.'

Trillian hammered on the tube with her palms. 'Arthur! This lunatic is cutting up our daughter.'

'Hardly cutting up,' said Wowbagger, consulting his wafer computer. 'The computer has already grown a new finger for her.'

Trillian checked. It was true a brand-new pink index finger was steaming gently on the end of Random's metacarpal. There was no blood and the teenager did not seem in the least uncomfortable.

'Your daughter is relaxed and dreaming,' continued Bowerick Wowbagger. He winced at whatever was on-screen. 'Though perhaps it's better if I don't show you the dreams. They're a little matricidal.'

'Wake her up!' demanded Trillian.

'Absolutely out of the question.'

'Wake her up immediately.'

'Not likely. She is insufferable.'

'And you're not, I suppose.'

Wowbagger considered this, rubbing a thumb with his forefinger to focus his thoughts as was traditional among his people.

Guide Note: Wowbagger's people had believed this action to be an old number-one concubines' tale until scientists discovered pockets of natural adenosine blocker secreted below the thumb pads. A brisk thumb scratch unleashes as much energy as five medium cups of a caffeine beverage. Many people become addicted to the little highs and spend all day on the couch twiddling their thumbs.

'I think some people find me insufferable,' he concluded. 'But I would bet that no one likes that child, unless they are blinded by familial bonds.'

'So now I'm blinded?'

'I can't think of another reason why you would tolerate this person. She is vile, grant me that much.'

'I will not grant you a thing!'

'Have you heard how she talks to me? How she talks to you?'

Trillian's cheeks were on fire. 'We've had our problems. They are our our problems. Now release my daughter.' problems. Now release my daughter.'

Wowbagger winced at the thought. 'How about I put her in storage for a while? I can have the computer melt some of that nicotine from the walls of her lungs.'

'Don't you dare put her in storage!' shouted Trillian, resisting a strong urge to stamp her foot. Then: 'Nicotine? Has she been smoking?'

'For a few years, according to my readings.'

'Smoking! Where did Random find time to smoke? I don't think I've ever seen her breathe in with all the complaining she does.'

'Storage? Go on.'

Trillian was tempted. 'No. No, but maybe a lung sc.r.a.pe.'

Bowerick waved his fingers over a few sensors and Random's tube was suffused with flickering laser waves.

'Random will have to sweat that tar out over the next few days. She may experience some nausea.'

'Good. That should teach her a lesson. Smoking.'

Bowerick reached his hand into an amorphous gel table and pulled out a mug of tea.

'I think we should leave her in there until we reach the nebula. n.o.body suffers, everyone's a winner.'

Wowbagger had a charming way about him, and Trillian found herself forgetting the severed digit. After all, Random was perfectly fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She was mint.

'No... I couldn't. Could I?'

Wowbagger shrugged. 'From what I've gathered, you're hardly mother of the century, so what's a few more days apart?'

And right there the charmingness ended.

'How b.l.o.o.d.y dare you! You uncouth green alien.'

'We are in open s.p.a.ce, so technically there are no aliens here.'

'You have no idea what I've been through. You are in no position to judge me!'

This was the stage of the conversation where Arthur would have sidled from the room in search of some vital but unnamed object in an unspecified and hardto-reach location. Even Ford would have taken one look at Trillian's face and known to shut his c.o.c.ktail hole, but Wowbagger, having nurtured a death wish for several millennia, instinctively pointed his green prow towards dangerous situations.

It's unlikely, his subconscious said. But perhaps this Earth woman, this undeniably attractive Earth woman, could do me some grievous bodily harm. But perhaps this Earth woman, this undeniably attractive Earth woman, could do me some grievous bodily harm.

Wishful thinking.

'Actually, I do have an idea what you've been through. The computer mined your memories. I have it all on file.'

'You perused my memories?'

'Of course. I was taking you on board my s.h.i.+p. You might have been a ma.s.s murderer. With any luck.'

'You had no right.'

'Oh, here we go with the journalist speak. What happened to "We'll be no trouble, Mr Wowbagger"?'

'I asked you to take a few hitchhikers on board, not to dig our memories out of our heads.'

'Again, you're using the wrong verb. There were no digging implements involved.'

Trillian clenched her fists so fiercely that her phalanges creaked.

'You pedantic, smarmy a.s.s!'

'Ah yes. I had forgotten how fond you people are... were... of lower-life-form-based insults. What's next? Cheeky monkey?'

'Oh, I can do better than that.'

'Really? I'll get my notebook. I'm always on the lookout, you know.'

Trillian thrashed like a combatant being restrained by invisible arms. 'That's right, Wowbagger. Make a list of insults, so you can while away your meaningless life making people miserable.'

'As opposed to spending your life away from your child, reporting on other people's misery?'

'At least I'm not making them miserable.'

'Really? Why don't you ask the girl in the tube?'

They were well matched and Bowerick was warming to the contest. He tossed his mug into the ceiling and gave the human female his full attention.

'Go on then, Trillian Astra. Give me something new I haven't heard a million times before.'

'Zark you, Bowerick.'

'What do you think? New?'

'Do you think I'd waste my time trying to impress someone who mutilated my daughter?'

'I think so. You media personalities are always trying to impress the Universe. Think of me as a viewer.'

Trillian might have smiled; there were teeth involved. 'A viewer? I never tried to cater to viewers in your demographic.'

'And which demographic would that be?'