In Favour of Fools: A Science Fiction Comedy (These Foolish Things Book 1) (23 page)

Masters opened the hotel room door and stepped back, a little surprised.

‘You’re early, and you’re not your dad.’

‘He couldn’t make it; he has no taste for this, anyway. And I decided to get this over and done with as soon as possible.’

‘OK, if it has to be you, Alan, so be it. Your word will bind your dad just as much as his own. And I've got some time before my meeting with a new and very generous customer. ’

‘I’m not here for any agreement. I’m here to end this.’

Masters laughed. ‘I think you should check that with your father. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to him, would you? Or to your lovely sister.’

‘That’s why I’m here.’ The gun was surprisingly large to have been hidden by his jacket, but his grip was rock steady as he pointed it at the centre of Masters’ chest.

Masters laughed. 'So now you're a murderer, are you, kid?'

'This isn't murder; this is taking out the trash.'

Masters took a step back, but the bed was in his way. When the gun went off, he was thrown back onto its softness, a steaming hole in his chest.

Alan put his gun away, and walked over to the dying man.

He took two vials of gil-juice from his pocket and shoved one in to each of Masters' nostrils. He took a second to check his work, then he nodded and turned. He walked quickly out of the room, pulling the door to behind him. He left the hotel without a word to anyone and climbed into his truck and drove back to his father and sister, sure that they would now be safe.

Ex-ymplat-Done (or Millie as she now preferred to be called) rippled her frills at her superior to indicate her complex emotions at the results of her actions. Her crest frills admitted that yes, there was an element of failure, but there was success as well to be considered. Her personal finances were in an excellent state and there had been no financial drain on the Devotion's resources.

Still, she had to accept that little had been achieved in the way of restoring balance.

'You will go back?' It was phrased as a question, to reduce the chance of a violent response, though his frills carried a very strong sense of the imperative.

Millie was tempted to strike him for the less than subtle affront, but she held her claws and displayed equanimity and acceptance with her lower frills, and determination with her crest.

As the male slipped silently into the sea, she brought up an image of the skinny human, with his long awkward limbs and tiny mouth.

Yes she was going back; and she had plans.

She surprised herself to find that she was chuckling, in a strangely human way.

As she slipped into the cool blue of the sea, she thought that Argu had better have an excellent joke up his sleeve to weigh in the balance against what she planned to do to a certain Philip Humphrey Chandler.

Argu had his audience just where he wanted them; in the cup of his claw. But it wasn’t time yet, so he teased them a little more.

He spoke of the old days; his first jokes; his first steps on the road to becoming a legend. He chuckled at those childish, misfiring attempts, and the crowd joined him; for they had also been there. They’d shared his failures for, to be a true genius, you have to risk failure.

Then he gave them a little treat, a reprieve of his most famous joke. A Jenusion, a Pillotle and a Sasasasasahionion walk into a bar and…. Well, you know the rest.

As they roared their appreciation, he removed a round green fruit from his pouch and took a chunk out of it with his lower mouth.

All through the crowd he could see people quoting parts of his great joke to each other, laughing and pulling at each other. As he tossed the core to the ground, a group of young Spinnakers stepped forward and recited the joke, word for word, in perfect synchronicity. Argu applauded them as they merged back into crowd, though he did feel that they had rushed the final five words.

He began to gnaw on a triangular piece of Pink Precious as he waited for the right moment to come. When he had cast the spine to his feet, he rooted in his bag for more and pulled out a yellow Nananana fruit.

As he peeled and tossed the skin of the juicy fruit, he began to regale his devoted audience with the history of his new joke, with the inspiration he'd received from the old masters; the great Dus, the inimitable Derek and of course, the crazy, crazy person that went by the name of Jorniper.

The time was right; the audience was ready, the moment was almost here for the greatest performance of his life.

He dragged his great weight from his custom built chair and slowly walked to the corner of the stage. He reached down and tickled the head-crest of a particularly attractive young female, and chuckled as she melted at his touch.

Then he turned and marched towards the centre of the stage.

The crowd went silent, in anticipation of what was to come.

They groaned as one as he turned on his heels and sidled back to the corner of the stage.

With his four eyes closed, he took a sideways step, then another, and another. He was in the centre of the stage, close to the edge. He opened one set of eyes and feigned surprise at finding himself there.

He pulled a yellow ball of Elinfruit from his pouch and tossed it into his lower mouth, only for it to immediately shoot back out of his upper mouth.

Then the drum roll began, slowly at first, and so quietly.

The crowd fell silent, unable to breath as the tension built with the tempo.

Then the drum stopped, and the silence seemed to echo across the chamber as the Great Argu, the Mischievous Argu, the One and Only Argu, took a long reverse step and slipped on the Nananana skin, falling as flat on his back as his tail would allow.

The crowd drew its breath as one enormous, multi-headed creature, then it laughed and history was made, and one young, particularly attractive young female knew that she had a job on her hands.

The End

And Finally, Now the Post Script

At last, it’s finished. and you should congratulate yourselves, dear reader, for having the inner strength to complete the onerous task of ploughing your way through each tortuous page.

If you feel that you need something to take away the bad taste in your mouth, you can either eat raw garlic or try my epic work on Pixies (available for a very reasonable price at www.pixiesaregreat .univ.com).

In the meantime, I’m thinking of something of a career change. There’s a job going, stacking shelves at a local supermarket. It’s not what I hoped for, but at least, when I’m dealing with rubbish, I’ll be provided with bright yellow rubber gloves, which will make a nice change.

If, miracle of miracles, this book enjoys any sort of success, and they ask me to write another, I intend to be a lot tougher in the negotiations, and I'll expect a book deal of my own as compensation for having to endure another episode of Phil's life. It's only fair, don't you think? N.F.

The End
(yes really
)

**********

Thanks so much for reading my book.

I hope that you enjoyed it and, if you did, you'll be pleased to know that Phil and gang are back in What Kind of Fool?

And this time, he’s squirt-capable

Check it out at :

http://amzn.to/1dMKW3p

For Deirdre and all your little prompts

Copyright © 2014 by J.Battle

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-1490455495

ISBN-10: 1490455493