he ended with a flourish, recalling the unofficial station mantra: “at
MuseEcology, the New-Age, New-Music, New-News station, we’ll
believe in anything—
as long as it’s groovy!
So it’s your call, viewers.
The gods: groovy or not groovy? Call us here at the station and let us
know!”
Bob let out a sigh. He flipped the channel again and stopped on
a game show. The contestants on the show were competing for an all-
expenses-paid “trip to paradise.” The shameless enthusiasm with
which they acted reminded Bob of people he had seen in church. The
way Bob saw it, if they made church like a game show, then everyone
would go to church a lot more, and it would be fun too. It would be
like a big party.
Bob’s head started to throb.
He continued to watch.
Game show. Church. Party. Throb.
Soon the throb became more pronounced until it actually turned
into an acute pain. Bob assumed that it was merely from sitting too
close to the TV, or from the beer he had put on his cornflakes that
morning, but in actuality it was something much more risky and far
more serious than he could have ever guessed. Something was
emerging inside Bob’s head that was placing intense pressure on his
neurons to form a brave new whorl—something alien, unknown, and
possibly dangerous. It was a wholly original idea.
Long dormant in fallow soil, this monster finally birthed itself in
Bob’s brain. He took some aspirin, turned off the TV, rubbed his
neck, banged his head on the table, but the invader, having beaten
such incredible odds, stubbornly refused to die.
Game show. Church. Party. Throb.
CHAPTER 25
Gareth had been sitting in his office when he heard the news. It was
very late at night, and he had a lot on his mind.
“Gare, old pal. I’ve finally come through for you,” said the voice
on the other end of the phone.
“What is it, Cain?”
“I’ve really earned my keep this time.”
“Okay.”
“Came through in the clinch, pulled off a big one, took the ball
H O L Y S H I T !
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