Milo handed him the bag of lottery tickets. “Really? You’re so
lucky, why don’t you get started on these tickets. And do me a favor:
Let me take this monkey with me, and don’t call the pigs when I
leave. Understand?”
Doug mustered a serious expression. “Play lottery. You take
monkey. Don’t call pigs,” he said determinedly, in an effort to win the
esteem of his new hero.
“Good. You get an A-plus.” Milo said, carrying the monkey out
the glass doors and into the sultry Los Angeles evening. Other Fern
members had been posted at Megamarts all over the city, waiting for
the animal to show up.
“Thank you very big!” Doug called after him.
The store was quiet once more as Bob approached the counter.
“Hey. What was that all about?” Bob said.
“I don’t know. America is strange country. I have much to
learning. But now one thing I know. When a man makes shots and
asks for monkey, give monkey to him. And don’t call pigs. Maybe they
are worse than monkeys.”
“That seems to make sense,” agreed Bob.
“Yes. Now if you have excuse for me, I must to call the police.”
CHAPTER 17
When Muchoman materialized again, he was stark naked.
“Hey! What did you do with my Muchosuit, and my ultra-
accessories?” he yelled in outrage.
The gods had been sitting down in the Anteroom of Eternity,
sipping herbal tea, waiting for their makeshift transmitter to deliver
Muchoman back into their hands. As expected, the little lunatic had
returned just as impudent as ever.
“Relax, hothead,” said Zarathustra. “You’re lucky we got you
back in one piece. It’s terribly dangerous for an inexperienced
traveler to go tromping around in the Dreamtime without a guide.”
“So you mean to tell me that my Muchosuit, the source of all my
power, is lost forever in the void? Is that what you’re trying to tell
me?” He was nearly hysterical.
“You should thank us. It looked ridiculous on you,” said Moses.
Muchoman couldn’t believe his ears. “I take that as a tremendous
insult,” the denuded dynamo declared, “and now I am compelled to
H O L Y S H I T !
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