The Fellowship of the Bring has gone underground to escape a large number of unsheep-like sheep. There they meet someone.
So Jonma Carry ran into someone while he was digging deep into the earth and slinging mud on everyone. That was curious. I hoped it was someone alive. I repelled the dirt from my person, and easily caught up with the waddling Jonma Claim. The man I caught up to wasn’t Uriculous – at least not at that moment.
“Probably a rich widow,” muttered Jonma Claim, “or maybe a big money campaign contributor. He’d think that’s important. Too much money and dirt in politics! We need straight talk, and no temptation.”
I didn’t think Jonma Claim was talking to me so I didn’t respond. Maybe he wasn’t even aware I was there.
“Look at this big hole in the ground,” he muttered. “Cap and trade will fix it! Cap and trade will fix it all! I heard that once and it’s straight talk. That’s what I’m known for – straight talk.”
By this point we encountered Jonma Carry, who grumbled something back at Jonma Claim, I kept my distance from the two Jonmas, as much to avoid the tedium of their discussion as anything else. Little wonder that both the Jonmas had been politicians. Most politicians seemed to believe that if they talked to you long enough, that you had to agree with them.
Dirk told me once that there was a place where politicians could speak into the air and be heard by millions, all at once. I wondered if these millions of hearers had any choice in the matter. Dirk didn’t say, and I suspect – as Dirk spent most of his time in oblivion – that he was just making the whole thing up.
Imagine a place where you had no choice but to listen to politicians. What kind of crimes would you have to commit to be condemned to such a place?
“It’s called, Boogle,” said a droning voice at the end of the excavation. “Just try it.”
“But doesn’t it cost money?” asked Lip Ton Tease.
“Not initially,” said the voice, which emanated from a rotund man, as bland looking as his voice sounded. “We make our money with repeat customers.” Then he looked at Tease. “Say Boogle.”
“Boogle,” said Tease, and a magical red arrow appeared over Tease’s head, though as we were in a cave, it was hard to determine what it was pointing at, other than the cave wall.
“It’s true,” said Tease. “The arrow is pointing to the legendary showers of Wa-Wa World. I have always desired to experience them.”
“Who’s next,” the voice said with a slight elevation in its drone.
“Boogle,” said Lustavious. A red arrow appeared, pointing directly at Ono’s butt. Having seen what his arrow was pointing at, I knew that this was not a good time for me to say, Boogle.
The voice laughed humorlessly. “It’s very useful magic, to show you what you desire. I didn’t invent this particular application, but as I am the inventor of magic, I receive a royalty every time someone uses it.”
“You invented magic?” said Mage-e-not.
“By the legal definition, yes,” said the dull voice, “and you, Sir, owe me quite a tidy sum for all the times your head has disappeared.”
“But no one told me…”
“Ignorance of the law is no excuse. What a handy phrase that is when suing people.”
“Milk the cows,” said Swampy for no reason I could think of.
“Say,” said the bland man, “is this the destroyer?”
“That’s his brother,” said Jonma Claim behind me, who was apparently back to being Uriculous.
“All Bore,” said the man, holding out a limp hand for some reason.
“Elmer McFarland,” I responded, guessing that All Bore was the man’s name, and not some command that I begin to speak like he did.
“McFarland,” said All Bore. “I have no copyright on that name, or on Elmer. I guess you go free.”
That didn’t make any sense to me, so I ignored it. “Did I hear you say you invented magic?”
“For all legal purposes, yes,” he said.
“How old are you?”
“I am sixty-five years old.”
“But magic has been around much longer than that.”
“That may be,” said All Bore, “but no-one claimed the rights to it until I did.”
“So even though you did nothing, you claim the credit?”
“I did something,” said All Bore.
“I filed the proper paperwork.”
“But then what’s to stop you from charging people for running, or whistling, or even breathing.”
“Keep your voice down,” said All Bore. “Those patents are still pending.”
Will the Fellowship get out of their underground predicament? Will they be assaulted by the unsheep-like sheep? Will they be bored to death by All Bore? Will the Chicago Cubs ever win a World Series? Some of the answers to these questions can be found in future installments of Dirk Destroyer’s Less Destructive Brother!
Here's a song from Tom Lehrer that All Bore might like - assuming he shut up long enough to listen to it.