Discworld and Member Articles
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Written by Roman_K
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Tuesday, 20 September 2005 |
Due to lack of budget on the writer's part, he must ask that you, the reader, turn on some dramatically inclined music during the next few minutes. If unavailable, the writer requests that you imagine some. He believes violins and the like should be involved.
The writer apologizes for the inconvenience, and hopes that you will have a pleasant reading experience.
Any complaints sent to the writer will be read at a speed usually reserved to tachyon particles, and filed in the circular filing cabinet next to the writer's desk.
We thank you for your cooperation.
-46:00
The Doctor stormed out of the control room, with Viktor in tow.
The Doctor was angry. His perfect plan was being destroyed by the stupidity of his men, and he wasn't going to let them get away with it. "Where are they, Viktor ?!? Where are they?!? I'll Box them! I'll make them wish they were born as small amphibians! A late correction can be applied, in fact! I'll feed them to the bloody sharks! I'll-"
"We got rid of the sharks, remember, Doc?" said Viktor, who was trying to open a panel marked 'Danger! Do not open! This means you! And your buddy Joe, too!' on the wall, but without success.
"Oh, yes…" The Doctor stopped, and began staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. "What do we have then?" he asked.
"Well, Doc," said Viktor, who had gotten a crowbar from somewhere and was looking at the panel in a threatening manner. "We've got a dolphin. And some goldfish."
"What? A dolphin? What am I supposed to do with a dolphin? What will he do, get them more attached to their inner selves in a threatening way? I'm not even going to ask about the goldfish."
The panel, a pretty smart panel as panel's went, decided it didn't want to be beaten and bent out of shape, and opened as Viktor was about to swing the crowbar. An array of red buttons gleamed within. Putting the crowbar away, Viktor pressed one the buttons, and quickly closed the panel before the Doctor noticed anything was amiss.
Of course, the Doctor did notice the blaring alarms which were activated all of a sudden. "What's going on, Viktor?"
"Oh, err, it's probably the plumbing this time, Doc. I'll get the plumbers in later. Now come on, let's go and find the lads." Viktor led the Doctor on. He'd given the lads a warning, which was something they deserved, in his opinion. Some of them still owed him money, and they'd hardly be able to pay up while being dead.
-45:47
In a large room, the floor of which was mostly covered in small Statue of Liberty figurines, ten men, all in the Doctor's uniform, were frantically sorting through the statues. Their names will not be mentioned, as this would be a waster of good names on characters which have a survival rate slightly higher than the one lemmings have.
Sad, but true.
The alarms went off. "Alarm's on," said one of the men.
"Well, don't just stand there, you dolt, go and see which one it is," said another, larger man, who had an air of authority about him. He certainly wore the funniest uniform.
The small man who had spoken earlier got up, and went to a small electronic display on the wall. Each room held one of these, and they allowed the men to react quickly according to the precise emergency. A small red light was blinking on and off over a picture of an angry smiley. It had glasses, too.
"Oh crap, the boss is pissed off! This means he's on his way here!"
"Damn," said the one in charge. "Get moving! We've gotta find that statue before the boss get's here, or we're in deep-"
"-water?" asked the small man.
The bigger one looked at him in a critical way. "How long have you had that one ready, eh?"
The small man looked a little embarrassed. "Well, it's an underwater base, so I thought-"
"Nevermind! Now get to work!"
The men returned to the sorting. What else could they do? After all, you could say their lives depended on it.
"Hey, is this the one?" asked one of the men. "Nah, it's got 'Memento From America' on it." answered another.
"Yeah, and this one's got 'To-', wait a sec, wazzat?" said another, looking carefully at the statue in his hand. "Oh, yeah, 'To Insert-Name-Here.' He must get a lot of these."
"Yeah," said the short one. "The last two thousand were for 'im, I know that. I had to sort through them all by myself!"
"Well," said the big man, "we had to take a lunch break, as per union regulations, and someone had to continue with the work."
"Yeah, but we could've drawn lots, 'is all I'm sayin'." said the small man, sniffing. "Just saying 'We're off to lunch, and the guy with the worst hair stays' is kinda mean, is all. It's not that bad."
No one was paying attention to him anymore, though. The short man took another statue from the pile, and saw a familiar inscription on it. "That insert fella must have a lot of friends, what with all the gifts and souvenirs and all." He said to himself quietly. "Wish I had that many friends."
Throwing the figurine aside, he took up another. This one looked slightly different. "Hey, I think I found it." He said.
The room was suddenly all quiet. Everyone looked reverently at the small statue which was the symbol of a nation's freedom. Or at least, that's what the tourist guides said, and they certainly knew better than most, right?
As they stared at the statue, a single thought passed through the other nine men's heads. Since they were uncomplicated men, it did so rather slowly.
Whoever gives this to the boss will be the one most likely to survive.
The thought passing through the short man's head as he saw the others approach him with calculating expressions, was the thought that had passed through the head of many people throughout the ages when faced with such situations.
You know the one.*
He decided to try and convince his co-workers to stop. Unfortunately, talking wasn't one of his major skills. "H-hey, guys, this isn't all that fair, is it? I mean, I w-was the one that found it, wasn't I?"
"Yeah," said the big one, ",but y'see, this is where each and every one of us has to look at himself and ask, 'What am I?'. And well, the answer's 'A Mean little bullie'. Get 'im!"
The ensuing fight wasn't pretty. The Doctor's men fought dirty, and anyone who happened to hold the statue at a given moment became the target. After a while, even that criteria became unnecessary.
Suddenly, the statue came flying out of the fighting group, going towards the door in a slow curve. The short one with the bad hair was the first to react, and ran towards the statue's apparent destination. During the last few feet he jumped, and slid on the floor with his hands outstretched before him-
-only to see the door opening before him, the Doctor going inside, and the statue hitting him on the head, to fall shattered on the floor.
The Doctor, who was now in that calm valley beyond uncontrollable rage, looked down at the man at his feet, looked up at the other men, smiled a slightly manic smile, and pressed a button on the wall.
A low hum came into being, and the room became slightly colder.
"Err, that's the air-conditioning, Doc." said Viktor, who was standing behind the Doctor. This was bad, he thought.
The Doctor, the smile now looking a little glazed, pressed the second button on the wall.
The floor under the group of underlings opened like a gaping maw, and the screaming men fell into a pool of molten lava below.**
The Doctor, the glazed smile still on his face, looked down at the surviving underling again.
"Ronnie, isn't it?" he asked.
"Y-y-y-yes, b-b-b-b-boss." answered the scared man.
"Tell me, Ron, how are you with super-glue?"
"Well, boss, I'm al-"
The Doctor cut him off. "For your sake, I hope you're very good. Your life kind of depends on it." He turned to his assistant. "Viktor, go look through the resumes for some new help, will you? I'll just go to my rooms and cry for a while, okay?"
---
*For those of the readers who didn't get it, it’s the "Oh ****, oh ****, oh ****, I'm gonna DIE!" one.
** They stopped screaming when they realized that they weren't in real molten lava, but in warm Fake-Lava (TM) that the Doctor bought on that scrap sale from H.A.R.M. Real lave is hard to come by.
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