Bill - Bill On The Planet Of Tasteless Pleasure Part 17

It was Rick the Supernal Hero's s.p.a.ceship!

The reaction amongst the Indians was fear and ma.s.s panic. As one they thundered back to the slopes of the hills, where they watched with awe as the ship settled down on the field where they had once swarmed, frying the fallen of their number. Gray spumes of smoke and yellow tongues of flame whipped and fluttered and then slowly dissipated.

"Curses!" cried Dr. Latex Delazny. "What's going on here! Modern technology is not supposed to work here in the Over-Gland!"

A voice erupted from the fabulous starship's outside speaker system. "Whoever said this boat was modern, Delazny? This ship's straight from the 1940's AMAZING STORIES!"

Bill recognized the voice. It was Rick! The real Rick, not the android that Delazny had created to spy upon them. The Rick for whom Bill had been first mate!

"He didn't forget me!" cried Bill. "He's come to our rescue! Yeah, Rick! Yeah!"

Delazny turned back to the hundreds of thousands of Indian hordes. "Don't worry, great Indian nation!

Not even a starship and Rick the Supernal Hero can stop your ma.s.sive hordes! Look how thin and flimsy the ship is! Why, you can simply fire a few tens of thousands of arrows en ma.s.se and it will simply tip over!"

"That's what you think, Doctor D!" said Rick through the speakers.

Then, the most astonishing thing happened!

CHAPTER 20.

BILL'S BIG BANG THEORY.

Bill had seen some incredible things in his life. The Palace Gardens of Helior! The death-tangled Jungles of Veniola! The majestic Fertilizer Mountains of Phigerinadon II!

However, this sight unfolding now before his eyes really took the concrete cupcake.

From the top of the starship emerged a cannon, and from this cannon an explosion exploded. A wobbling globule of liquid shot up into the air over the Indian nation of the Vindaloo - a giant drop that began to slow down, undulate, and then expand and grow. It spun out like a gigantic soap bubble. It splashed down over the entirety of the Vindaloo tribes, and the j.i.s.m Gang to boot.

"What's happening?!" cried Bill.

"Arrrrr!" said Rick's voice from the speakers. "This is what they never expected - but I did. I went straight to the manufacturers and filled all the spare fuel tanks with NoPreg - the most effective spermicide in the known universe!"

And thus they died. Thus was the greatest threat removed at last. Bill heaved a great sigh of relief; all thoughts of heavenly sanctuary vanished and he looked forward to a long and full life. Unhappily still in the Troopers.

For Doctor Delazny's part, he was simply standing alone now, bereft of his army, quivering and shaking with frustration and anger. Bill strode up to him.

"Answer one question, quack, before I kill you. What did you do to my dearest Irma to make her boot me out? How could a repulsive ugly like you ever replace me in her affection?"

Bill added a certain attention-getting to his question by seizing Delazny by the throat and shaking him up and down strenuously.

"Glug!" Delazny gasped, and Bill loosened his grip. "It is the p-p-power of the Over-Gland!" he gurgled.

"I admit I lied a teensy bit to you both last night. It was within my grasp. I used it on her. Its energies are irresistible."

Bill nodded. He felt a little better now. Not much, really, but it would have to do. He supposed he could find some way to forgive Irma now. He knew he still loved her. Possibly.

"Where is Irma, Delazny?" Another quick shake to drive home the point.

"S ... s ... still back in the hotel room, like I said."

"Then that's it Doc. Finito for you. You're outnumbered and have two seconds to surrender before I choke you to death. One -"

"Glug! Surrender! Fins!"

"I sort of wished you hadn't," Bill mused, throttling a bit more for his own pleasure. "It would have felt real good to kill you. Oh well...." He threw Delazny to the ground. "Now that your plans for galactic domination are through, and before I throttle you some more, do you think you'd have time to take a look at this b.u.m foot of mine? After all, that is one of your specialties, isn't it?"

"Oh y ... y ... yes. The mood foot. Which one was it again, Bill?" said Delazny, eager to please. He frowned. "It looks pretty permanent. I'm not sure that there is much I can do...."

Bill howled with unbridled anger, throttled the Doc again, then hurled his unconscious form away in disgust.

"Arrrrrrr! Nice choking, Bill," said Rick the Supernal Hero, climbing down the ladder. "If you don't mind I would like to get in a couple shots myself! The nerve of that guy, imprisoning me and then copying this beautiful mug onto an android!" Rick tromped over to the unconscious Dr. Delazny and rearranged a few teeth with a muddy boot. "There, that's good enough. Too bad he didn't feel it - but he will when he wakes up in my brig!" Rick patted Bill on the back. "Arrrr! Good to see you again, first mate. By the way, I want to show you something!" Around Rick's neck was slung a leather bag. From this bag he pulled a six pack of cans. He pulled one out of the plastic carrier and handed it to Bill.

Bill looked at the can. "HOLY GRAIL ALE," he elated. "Rick! You found it!"

"Arrrr! You bet matey!"

"But where?"

Rick pointed a handsome, slender forger past the rainbow that had just formed in the sky and was smiling down colorfully at them. "You're not going to believe this, Bill! But it looks like Dr. Delazny wasn't totally correct on the Over-Gland theory. You see, it's much more than that! And it's right over there!"

Bill didn't wait for an explanation. He did what it was natural for all good Troopers to do with a tall cool one in his hand: he popped the top and drained the can in one great, enjoyable, heavenly insufflation.

The fluid washed down his throat like a gentle zephyr of spring. Hops hopped gaily in their milk of liquid kindness, splashing down into his stomach where they spread gentle mists of calm and well-being throughout his body. Bill's hangover was shooed away in an instant, and the quiet joy of tasty, beery inebriation took its place. Ah, heaven!

"Yow!" he said, light filling his eyes. "This is the best beer I ever had!"

"Naturally! It's Holy Grail Ale, Bill."

"You speak in riddles, human. Clarification requested. What place do you speak of?"

"Why, the place where I got this six-pack, of course, little fella - and by the way, thanks for unlocking my cell when you found out that Delazny was a traitor to your cause. Yes - somewhere, out in the misty lands of the Over-Gland, past the angst-ridden halls of the Ego and Id, the arching columns of the Collective Unconscious, to say nothing of Dreamland, Oz and Atlantis, there lies a land far more significant than all of them!"

"What is it?" cried Bill.

"It's dreamland come true! It's everything you ever wanted but were afraid to ask for! It's the Human Over- Brewery! What urge do you think made mankind brew the first hop, distill the first corn mash? The urge for Over-inebriation, of course." Rick the Supernal Hero sighed and put a brotherly arm across Bill's back.

"Ah, Bill! The very air there is poetry! Breweries and distilleries like mushrooms! And each one has its own bar!"

"Can we go, Rick?" hushed Bill breathlessly. "Can we?"

"Why, of course we can Bill! I'll take us all!"

"Gee - maybe that's the key to peace," theorized Bgr. "If all you humans were drunk all the time, which seems to be the ambition of all the ones I have met, they wouldn't be able to make war on us Chingers!"

"That's the spirit, little guy!" said Rick, taking out a can and setting it down for the Chinger. "Have a sip.

Maybe you'll like it." He handed another can to Bill and burped.

Bill sipped the new brew and sighed. So good ... so very good! He had to share this with his love....

"Bill?" called a sweet voice querulously.

Bill lowered his can of Holy Grail Ale.

"Irma?"

Sure enough, looking pretty as a picture, if a little groggy, Irma Krankenhaus was walking their way.

"Bill! It's a s.p.a.ceship! Are we saved Bill?" She was wearing only a nightgown, and her untied hair spilled down over her pretty face most fetchingly.

"We sure are, darling! It's my buddy, Rick, the Supernal Hero. Come to take us away from here to a far, far better place!"

"Mall World - where I can shop forever?"

"Hi, Irma. I'm Rick. Nice to meet you." Rick shook her hand amiably. Irma blinked at him for a moment.

"Oh yes ... the one that Delazny modeled the android after. He didn't do you justice."

"Arrrrr, shucks, ma'am. Thanks."

Irma looked at Bill again.

"Bill, what happened last night? I don't remember."

She didn't remember?

But of course she didn't remember! His sweet, loving Irma would never betray him while she was in her right mind. It was that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Delazny's total control over her endocrine glands that had caused the trouble. Bill thought quickly, lied fetchingly.

"You must have been real tired, dearest Irma! You went to bed early and switched off like a light. You slept so blissfully I did not dare awaken you," he said, falling instantly into ROMANCE KOMIX prose.

She sighed a happy sigh and Rick yipped.

"Well, let's make a toast to your happiness, mate, and then hightail it to the Over-Brewery. There's a new vat of bitter due about now, and the drinkers there tell me it's the absolutely tip top of the season."

"You'll take us back home afterwards, though, right, Rick?" said Irma.

"Sure, kid. Anything you want. C'mon Chinger. Let's load the Doc on the DESIRE. He's got a truly mythic debt to pay society."

"Gee - and when you're through with him, can we Chingers have a go at him?"

They hauled the Doctor up the ladder to the starship, managing to only drop him once or twice in the process.

Bill felt truly good. He finished the last of his second beer, crushed the can in his mighty fist, and felt even better.

"Come on up, folks," said Rick, beckoning them to climb the ladder.

Could it be, thought Bill joyously and half in the bag. Could there actually be a happy end in store for him? He, Bill a simple Trooper from Phigerinadon II, usually positioned below the sewer outlet of the galaxy. Unbelievable!

"Bill," said Irma, starting to climb the ladder. "What did you say that young man's name was?"

"Rick," said Bill, happily beaming up at her as she climbed the ladder.

She looked down at him, a curious light in her eyes. "He seems like a really nice gentleman."

"The best, Irma!" said Bill. "Rick's the best buddy a guy can have!"

Gosh, thought Bill as he followed Irma into the starship named DESIRE, ready for new thrills and adventure, to say nothing of trying to stay out of the arms of the Troopers in order to enjoy a more interesting life of rapturous love and drink and permanently goofing off duty.

Life wasn't so bad after all!

EPILOGUE.BACK OFF THE SADDLE AGAIN.

"Nice foot you got there, buddy," said the bartender. "Same again?"

"Yeah," mumbled Bill.

"You're gonna have to sit up to drink it, pal. That's the canteen's rules, I'm afraid. If you can't sit up straight, we can't serve you."

"Oh," said Bill. "Yeah, sure."

The bar was a regulation lower-ranks canteen with plastiwood bar, neo-outhouse decor and a brace of beer taps, neither of which worked. In dark corners zonked Troopers slept the sleep of alcoholic bliss, escaped from the military until they reluctantly sobered up. A jittering, malfunctioning robo-mop slipped and slid and scurried about the off-yellow linoleum floor, mopping up spilled drinks and Fakey-Potato- Drips packages, cigar b.u.t.ts and anything, including shoes and caps, that got in the way of its inhaling nozzles.

The canteen was called "The Kill-Cat Club" because of the trophies of stuffed cats decorating its bar and its walls. Bill would have taken the turbo-tunnel into town, but the bars were even worse there - a horrifying thought! - and besides he was running out of money. And he had something important to do early tomorrow, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what the bowb it was.

He looked up blearily, trying to recall, as the robo-mop wetly slapped his face with its greasy cleaning attachment.

No wonder the bartender was admiring his foot! It had been propped up on the bar edge, while Bill had been lying firmly on the floor where he'd pa.s.sed out a few moments before. Bill managed to rearrange himself, putting his head where his foot had been, and placing the latter back on the floor. It was still a cloven hoof, but Bill didn't care so much about that anymore.

Bill didn't care about anything.

When Bill was situated properly, weaving only a little, the satisfied bartender upended the bottle of Olde Paint Remover and Worm-Killer into Bill's shot gla.s.s, filling it to the brim.

Bill drank it.

It sure wasn't Holy Grail Ale, but h.e.l.l, alcohol was alcohol.

Oblivion was oblivion.

"And I like your fangs, too," said the bartender, a non-com it was revealed by the stripes st.i.tched poorly onto his wrists. Probably worked the bar for extra creds. "You're the acting DI, aren't you?"

Bill grunted.