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What? What do you mean "the 'posted on' date says otherwise"...?
Oh, don't pay any attention to that. Just keep reading, all will be well.... yes, sir..... no worries at all....
Quote
The ground skipped underfoot as Ridcully stomped out into the sunlight, and it was only by the quick action of his hand that his hat didn't come loose and drop to the ground.
"What the hell was that?" He swore bitterly as he stepped out onto the lawn and into the glaring brightness of the sunshine.
Before him was a veritable Somme of destruction - huge circular divets had been gouged into the grass, and from where he was standing the Wizard could see several large holes smashed in the boundary wall, through which several curious faces were peering. To his left, and ornate fountain gurgled it's last, and the last few drops of water bled forlornly into the shattered basin before falling free across the gravel path.
Drawing himself up to his full girth Ridcully stomped - knobbly-headed staff in hand - over to the nearest hole and grabbed a handful of the nearest onlooker.
"WHICH WAY DID HE DID HE GO!?!" he demanded of the weaselly, rat-faced and utterly terrified peon, and for his troubles was pointed further along the wall. Following the direction, Ridcully skipped once more from the ground, fully clear into the air and almost fell as he landed heavily.
"Right - NOW he's going to get it!" he snarled, and drove onwards like a determined Steam Liner.
Gasping for breath into his moustache, Ridcully rounded the West Wing and there he found his nemesis, the huge, red-haired man who was hammering nochelantly on the door of the kitchens. Big, ancient, oaken doors - Wizards take their food very seriously - creaked and began to splinter under the constant pressure of the hammer that was being swung with all the forethought and malice of someone with nothing better to do with their time but wait and try to remember if there's anything that they need to buy while they're out.
Ridcully stomped into view and brought his staff down with a resounding crunch of gravel.
"RIGHT, you bastard! Now it's your turn!"
Thor looked around blankly. "You'd be the next fight?" He said, and brought Mjolnir up into the cradle of both his enormous hands.
"You'd be damn right, Carrot-Top! I'll show you who's King of the Hill around here!"
Just about hidden under the many folds of his massive robe, Ridcully's finger extended towards the God, and he uttered he ancient enchantment:
"Takethatyabastard!" Instantly a bolt of green light flew out and struck Thor directly on the forehead. There was a loud ringing sound like the death of a churchbell and the air filled with the acrid smell of molten iron.
Thor stared blankly as his hair sizzled softly in the breeze. Several seconds later, the slagged remains of his helmet landed some distance away like a falling star and cut a deep, red-hot gouge in the grass.
To himself, Ridcully swore again - next time!
"So, you're a tough one, eh? Let's see how you like another taste of the ol' magic!" Again, the old Wizard pointed his finger and uttered the magic words: "Nowyergonnagetit!!"
This time, however, there was no bolt of destruction - just a strange sound like a very polite clown being trodden on.
"BEEP! Sorry, better luck next time!"
Everything went silent, save for the whisper of the breeze and the far-off sounds of the city ignoring everything and getting on with it's own businesses. It was, unsurprisingly, Ridcully that broke the silence.
"Oh, -ing hell...."
The sound of Mjolnir embedding itself into Ridcully's stomach was as unpleasant as one might imagine it to be, considering the size of both the target and the weapon. To put it into perspective, it was very nearly as horrible as the sound made by Ridcully hitting the wall some two-hundred feet behind him, although considerably less horrible than the sight of the old Wizard bouncing back and rolling uncontrolled across the lawn before coming to rest at the foot of the Main gates with a bump of ass-against-wood.
Triumphant, Thor rose Mjolnir above his head and howled into the sky.
His celebration was cut short by yet another horrible sound - the high pitched rubbery squeal of air escaping from a balloon. Thor looked down and saw, to his mild confusion, Ridcully's body deflating like on old football, sagging over a considerable area of gravel.
He stepped forward to investigate, and was rewarded by the metallic sound of something crunching between foot-and-floor - a strange, "L" shaped wand that fizzled miserably in it's distorted death-throes.
"You miserable bastard!" There wasn't enough time to consider the wand's fate before reality returned without knocking - Ridcully's leathery, sagging form flopped over and, tripping over it's own fingers in the attempt, tried to stand upright.
"You have any idea how much this stuff cost me!?!?"
Thor's brow crinkled - all of a sudden, Ridcully didn't seem as tall as he had been, and his voice a lot... younger?
Throwing off the now-deflated remains of the Ridcully-Suite and spitting out false beard through one mouth, Zaphod Beeblebrox continued his steady though expansive stream of swearing, finally coming to a rest as he reached the end of Thor's toes, stood on them, and prodded him in the stomach.
"...and your mother with bells and whistles on top!" He finished, out of breath and red in both faces.
Eventually, the truth dawned on Thor.
"You're not Ridcully! Where he go!?"
"That stuffed old Walrus? Enough laudenum in the Wow-Wow Sauce, and even someone his size will go sleepy-byes for the... well, week. Which is just what I needed to get my revenge on him for what he did the other week, and just as I was making my escape in that disguise, I ran into you and you wrecked the damn thing!"
Zaphod looked at his watch irritably.
"Anyways, never mind - looks like I'm going to need to cut this even shorter, my ride will be along any minte and I certainly don't wasnt to be on another miserable rock once it's been demolished. Infact, here it is now!"
He looked up into the sky, and an enormous orange cyclinder appeared at the touch of a special button on his watch. For a brief few seconds it hung there, then with a series of pops it was replaced by an over-ready chicken, an ice-cube tray filled withorange squash, one shaken martini complete with small paper umbrella, Dolph Lungren, and finally an immaculately white spaceship.
"What that?" Asked Thor, entranced by what he saw in the sky.
"That," said Zaphod smugly, "Would be the Heart of Gold Mark Two. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have copious booze to dri-AAARRGH!!!"
Though driAAARGH-ing is a common sport among some cultures, that's not actually what Zaphod was referring to - what he was looking at that caused the trauma in his demeanor was the sky wheeling awkwardly to the side. The sun disappeared, the moon revoled into position and for a tiny instant an enormous flipper flopped just above the horizon. On top of that, the Heart of Gold Mark Two disappeared, and was replaced by the heart wrenching crunch of metal being devoured, as if by a Giant Turtle.
Momentarily, much to the displeasure of several hundred thousand motion-sickness sufferes, the sky returned to it's original hue, leaving both Thor and Zaphod looking up at the empty patch of sky.
"......Crap." Said Zaphod.
Silence returned, although in the distance various forms of gagging and wretching echoed across the lawn. Zaphod scuffed the gravel with one toe, suddenly almost sheepish in his appearence. More long minutes passed, and Thor eventually concluded one what had just occured.
"That yours?"
"Yup."
"It gone now?"
"Yup."
"Got another one?"
"Nope."
Silence returned again. A bird whistled joyously in between coughing up what it had for breakfast.
"Umm.... what you mean by dee-mow-lissed?"
Zaphod shrugged, and hiked a thumb at the horizon.
"Demolished. Destroyed. As in, 'about to be blown to hell by a thermo-nuclear detonator in about 1.7 seconds', demolished."
"Oh."
And the Winner Is: The Illid 3-Omerag Beta Trans-Galatic Highway, now open!
"What the hell was that?" He swore bitterly as he stepped out onto the lawn and into the glaring brightness of the sunshine.
Before him was a veritable Somme of destruction - huge circular divets had been gouged into the grass, and from where he was standing the Wizard could see several large holes smashed in the boundary wall, through which several curious faces were peering. To his left, and ornate fountain gurgled it's last, and the last few drops of water bled forlornly into the shattered basin before falling free across the gravel path.
Drawing himself up to his full girth Ridcully stomped - knobbly-headed staff in hand - over to the nearest hole and grabbed a handful of the nearest onlooker.
"WHICH WAY DID HE DID HE GO!?!" he demanded of the weaselly, rat-faced and utterly terrified peon, and for his troubles was pointed further along the wall. Following the direction, Ridcully skipped once more from the ground, fully clear into the air and almost fell as he landed heavily.
"Right - NOW he's going to get it!" he snarled, and drove onwards like a determined Steam Liner.
Gasping for breath into his moustache, Ridcully rounded the West Wing and there he found his nemesis, the huge, red-haired man who was hammering nochelantly on the door of the kitchens. Big, ancient, oaken doors - Wizards take their food very seriously - creaked and began to splinter under the constant pressure of the hammer that was being swung with all the forethought and malice of someone with nothing better to do with their time but wait and try to remember if there's anything that they need to buy while they're out.
Ridcully stomped into view and brought his staff down with a resounding crunch of gravel.
"RIGHT, you bastard! Now it's your turn!"
Thor looked around blankly. "You'd be the next fight?" He said, and brought Mjolnir up into the cradle of both his enormous hands.
"You'd be damn right, Carrot-Top! I'll show you who's King of the Hill around here!"
Just about hidden under the many folds of his massive robe, Ridcully's finger extended towards the God, and he uttered he ancient enchantment:
"Takethatyabastard!" Instantly a bolt of green light flew out and struck Thor directly on the forehead. There was a loud ringing sound like the death of a churchbell and the air filled with the acrid smell of molten iron.
Thor stared blankly as his hair sizzled softly in the breeze. Several seconds later, the slagged remains of his helmet landed some distance away like a falling star and cut a deep, red-hot gouge in the grass.
To himself, Ridcully swore again - next time!
"So, you're a tough one, eh? Let's see how you like another taste of the ol' magic!" Again, the old Wizard pointed his finger and uttered the magic words: "Nowyergonnagetit!!"
This time, however, there was no bolt of destruction - just a strange sound like a very polite clown being trodden on.
"BEEP! Sorry, better luck next time!"
Everything went silent, save for the whisper of the breeze and the far-off sounds of the city ignoring everything and getting on with it's own businesses. It was, unsurprisingly, Ridcully that broke the silence.
"Oh, -ing hell...."
The sound of Mjolnir embedding itself into Ridcully's stomach was as unpleasant as one might imagine it to be, considering the size of both the target and the weapon. To put it into perspective, it was very nearly as horrible as the sound made by Ridcully hitting the wall some two-hundred feet behind him, although considerably less horrible than the sight of the old Wizard bouncing back and rolling uncontrolled across the lawn before coming to rest at the foot of the Main gates with a bump of ass-against-wood.
Triumphant, Thor rose Mjolnir above his head and howled into the sky.
His celebration was cut short by yet another horrible sound - the high pitched rubbery squeal of air escaping from a balloon. Thor looked down and saw, to his mild confusion, Ridcully's body deflating like on old football, sagging over a considerable area of gravel.
He stepped forward to investigate, and was rewarded by the metallic sound of something crunching between foot-and-floor - a strange, "L" shaped wand that fizzled miserably in it's distorted death-throes.
"You miserable bastard!" There wasn't enough time to consider the wand's fate before reality returned without knocking - Ridcully's leathery, sagging form flopped over and, tripping over it's own fingers in the attempt, tried to stand upright.
"You have any idea how much this stuff cost me!?!?"
Thor's brow crinkled - all of a sudden, Ridcully didn't seem as tall as he had been, and his voice a lot... younger?
Throwing off the now-deflated remains of the Ridcully-Suite and spitting out false beard through one mouth, Zaphod Beeblebrox continued his steady though expansive stream of swearing, finally coming to a rest as he reached the end of Thor's toes, stood on them, and prodded him in the stomach.
"...and your mother with bells and whistles on top!" He finished, out of breath and red in both faces.
Eventually, the truth dawned on Thor.
"You're not Ridcully! Where he go!?"
"That stuffed old Walrus? Enough laudenum in the Wow-Wow Sauce, and even someone his size will go sleepy-byes for the... well, week. Which is just what I needed to get my revenge on him for what he did the other week, and just as I was making my escape in that disguise, I ran into you and you wrecked the damn thing!"
Zaphod looked at his watch irritably.
"Anyways, never mind - looks like I'm going to need to cut this even shorter, my ride will be along any minte and I certainly don't wasnt to be on another miserable rock once it's been demolished. Infact, here it is now!"
He looked up into the sky, and an enormous orange cyclinder appeared at the touch of a special button on his watch. For a brief few seconds it hung there, then with a series of pops it was replaced by an over-ready chicken, an ice-cube tray filled withorange squash, one shaken martini complete with small paper umbrella, Dolph Lungren, and finally an immaculately white spaceship.
"What that?" Asked Thor, entranced by what he saw in the sky.
"That," said Zaphod smugly, "Would be the Heart of Gold Mark Two. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have copious booze to dri-AAARRGH!!!"
Though driAAARGH-ing is a common sport among some cultures, that's not actually what Zaphod was referring to - what he was looking at that caused the trauma in his demeanor was the sky wheeling awkwardly to the side. The sun disappeared, the moon revoled into position and for a tiny instant an enormous flipper flopped just above the horizon. On top of that, the Heart of Gold Mark Two disappeared, and was replaced by the heart wrenching crunch of metal being devoured, as if by a Giant Turtle.
Momentarily, much to the displeasure of several hundred thousand motion-sickness sufferes, the sky returned to it's original hue, leaving both Thor and Zaphod looking up at the empty patch of sky.
"......Crap." Said Zaphod.
Silence returned, although in the distance various forms of gagging and wretching echoed across the lawn. Zaphod scuffed the gravel with one toe, suddenly almost sheepish in his appearence. More long minutes passed, and Thor eventually concluded one what had just occured.
"That yours?"
"Yup."
"It gone now?"
"Yup."
"Got another one?"
"Nope."
Silence returned again. A bird whistled joyously in between coughing up what it had for breakfast.
"Umm.... what you mean by dee-mow-lissed?"
Zaphod shrugged, and hiked a thumb at the horizon.
"Demolished. Destroyed. As in, 'about to be blown to hell by a thermo-nuclear detonator in about 1.7 seconds', demolished."
"Oh."
And the Winner Is: The Illid 3-Omerag Beta Trans-Galatic Highway, now open!
Remember: Friday. Sixth.
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