Mask of the Eldotype

No wonder I'm so tired this morning.

8

There was a call for a Great Leader to step up to the plate, and, as one would expect, a hobbit of the Ancient (and respectable) Banks Clan was just the hobbit for the job. Reverent Boo Jackaboots took charge, immediately suspending Amarie as CEO and Cptain Dave Berry from his duties as Sherriff. He then began an investigation, which involved at first calling in the four (presumably) Eldo-stained victims for questioning.

Halfred Fysykfreak was made Acting Captain, and Lance corporal, Lance Bloke, was brought in to assist. The three became the Crew of Three known to history, amd you would only know that if you knew the history.

Boo chose an office at the back of the Hallodome to conduct the first interviews.

Amarie was brought in first, looking rather pleasing in a yellow jumpsuit with a bold red scarf on her head, and pink lipstick. This was a surprise for Boo, Halfy and Lance, for Amarie usally wore a green jumpsuit at interviews.

"Please take a seat, Amarie," Boo said kindly, though his eyes told another story, though one which does not come into this story. "You know, of course, Acting Captain Fysykfreke and Lancecorporal Lance Bloke?"

"Yes, but not intimately," Amarie smiled languidly.

Lance blushed. On the face of such a hard headed fellow, the blush made a striking contrast, not unattractive. Halfy just looked hopeful suddenly.

"I think we can do without the formalities," Boo continued. "You are an experienced woman, Amarie, so I think we can get straight to the heart of the problem..."

"If you can call it a problem," Amarie smiled languidly again.

And Lance blinked in pleasure, and Halfy shut his eyes and tried to think of England.

Boo coughed in annoyance. "Now, now, enough of your evasions. Now, at 9.52pm last night (by the Shire Reckoning) you contacted me on your tranvideodevice. True?"

"I did."

"And you stated you were most concerned about all this, I quote: 'damn frightening Eldotype gossip-and-innuendo'. Is that not the case?"

"No, not, not the case, no... or not that I am aware. Or maybe, yesss..."

And the lilt she left on the end of her 'yes' made Halfy and Lance feel like young hobbits again; post puberty, that is.

Boo exploded. "Damnation woman! Give me a straight answer!"

"But, Reverent," Amarie answered sweetly. "I am being straight - it is the Eldotype who might be bipartisan..."

"Illuvatar eat my bananas!" Boo said softly, but managed somehow to gather in his rage. "Back to last night, you were talking to me on your tranvideodevice, airing your Eldofears, and then... tell me, Amarie... what happened then?"

'The domesliderbell rang."

"Ha! And you said you would ring me back and went to answer it."

"Exactly."

"Ha!"

"And who was the ringer?" Lance asked, gently.

"I don!t really know," Amarie answered, and then seemed to hesitate in sudden reflection. "Many things happened, beginning shortly after that, and I don't propose to give you a detailed account of the ins and outs and outs and ins of that, as it is a private matter..."

"Perhaps you can give us some useful hints," Halfy put in, hopefully. "Esoecially regards the ins and outs and outs and ins... It could be important, or, at least, interesting..."

"No, no, not in a children's story like this," Amarie smiled, if somewhat provocatively. Then her face clouded, in reflection again. "You know, I did not even learn his name."

"Whose name?" Lance asked.

"My rather assertive visitor. I never thought to ask. I mean, things happened very quickly, and repeatedly, all night long in fact. I never thought to ask. To be honest, I don't think he would have told me."

"And why not, do you think?" Boo asked sharply.

"Well, if he had been willing to tell he, why disguise himself with a mask?"

Boo, Halfy and Lance looked to each other. Yes, things were already beginning to form a pattern....

Sweet Eru grease my jumpsuit! (England...England...England...)

9

Their second interview was with Julia Figg. During the interview she was generally surly, sarcastic, annoyed, quick to anger, and cynical; in fact, presenting herself without subterfuge of any sort or any effort to not be herself (apparently).

"Well, I opened the relevant portal and in he came," Julia was saying as she sat in her chair across the flourobench from her three interrogators. "Next thing I know, I am wrestling with a Lycra clad intruder. I'm thinking: if I can just rip off his mask, then all my mirrors and cameras will reveal him from every angle, including his face. But it seemed to glued on. His thighs, at least, will forever remain identifiable, camera shots or not. (Sigh). I will know those thighs if ever I see them again, wrapped around me or not. I suspect if he is a resident of Dome City, he wears long pants to disguise those thighs. Wonderful! Not that I asked him to wrap them around me, perish the thought! Nor slip of my lemon scented leather Sotheby knickers neither, but there you have it. It was all good in the end; well, better than good, frankly...Alls well that ends better, if you know what I mean..."

"Forgetting his thighs for a moment, was there anything else that gave his identity away," Reverent Boo pressed. "A smile, a scent, a turn of phrase?"

"He did mention something regards an upcoming 'Anime Convention', this just before he seriously got down to business on all fours. I said: What! Do you think I am Azriel Amplebossoms! Stop that now! No, don't do that! But he did! So I had to make do. In the end it wasn't so bad. None of it really. Most of it was actually good, but only if you like that kind of thing, which I was to discover I did..."

"I find this all difficult to comprehend," Halfy put in, scratching his head. "Can you give a more prosaic account of what happened?"

"Prosaic is not a word that would seem to apply at all. I'd call it art, and art should never be prosaic. Not good quality art anyway. To anyone who eventally sees the footage (once I've done some tasteful editing and airbrushing), will no doubt  still view it as a sordid business. Others, as purely unrespectable, and watch it all with pursed lips, possibly twice. Others may even see what occurred as it as an abuse of the bodies Illuvatar gave us in the Garden of Bywater and therefore 'very creative'; but I prefer to just call it 'art' - once it's edited, as I said. I haven't, naturally, had time to edit it into an Arthouse movie for Cannes yet... we'll see, we'll see."

"Did you chance to see what his mask was made of?" Lance asked suddenly. "Perhaps, that might give us a clue. You managed to touch his mask. Did you get a good feel of his mask?"

Julia fell into deep thought. Then: "Well, it was velvety, and very smooth, like satin really.. no, not velvet on thinking more about it... satin.... mmm.... and when you ran you hands over it, it formed rather nice curves with a rather sumptuous valley between them, cleanly shaved....yes, satin...."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Boo asked. "That sounds nothing like any mask I have ever seen or worn! Who shaves their mask!!"

"'Mask'?" Julia wanted to know, immediately giving Boo a look that seemed to say: 'what kind of stupid question is that?'

Then Julia said: " What kind of stupid question is that?"

Then she fell silent again. And now a slow smile came to curl her alluring and expressive lips. "Oh! You said 'Mask'. Silly me. One must laugh."

Suddenly, something happened in Halfy's head. It was a thought. "A mask! Was it a Superhero mask by any chance?"

"Why would it be a Super Hero mask?"

"Well you mentioned 'Anime' earlier..."

"Wrong genre I would suggest," Lance put in. "But 'Anime' may be a clue, nonetheless."

"It suggests 'nerd' to me," Halfy answered, sitting suddenly upright in his pogochair. "What if our intruder was a nerd of some sort. How many nerds are there in Dome City, I wonder? I'll check our Nerd database as soon as possible."

Reverent Boo nodded solemnly. "I think, Sirs, we are drawing closer to the identity of our intruder."

"You mean, all four of them." Julia put in.

"What do you mean by that?" Lance wanted to know.

"Well, I have been chatting to the other three, and they all said the same things about our intruder last night. He had wonderful thighs. Just perfect... one in a million thighs."

"You mean two in a million?"

"Huh? What are you gabbling about Acting Captain Halfred?" Boo wanted to know.

"Well, thighs generally come in twos, Sir."

"Wouldn't that add up to  eight intruders?" Lance asked, getting a computerpaddevice out to find a Maths App.

"Don't be stupid!" Julia cried. "There were four intruders by my reckoning, each with two perfect thighs, all identical, judging from what the others said."

"Eldoclones?" Boo suggested, tentatively.

"Well, jello my underpants," Halfy exclaimed. "I suspect there is a pattern here, somewhere, and not a pattern that will help any of us sleep tonight!"

And Lance and Boo nodded in somber agreement.

Julia did not appear to notice them now, though. Her thought had drifted; drifting sensually in the frothy  ether of a universe bedazzled by perfect thighs wrapped around one...

Sometimes I wonder if you're growing more incorrigible with age, Anon, but then I think back and remember the "Three Silly Goats Buff".

Yes, do remember those far off days of innocence and jolly japes. Them was the days. Must find that tale and recap.

I looked it up and re-read it earlier. I still stand by my initial reaction.

http://www.hobbitmovieforum.com/t119p475-wholesome-tales#20549

Eldorion wrote:I thought that I should be offended at the initial description of Eldo the Troll, but after reaching the end of the story I'm not sure if I should be offended, frightened, aroused, or flattered.

{{{Possibly the main reason it stands out in my memory is because the pairing of Eldo Troll and Ringo Troll is what made me decided to make them partners in The Needlehole Mysteries, which I started writing at around that time. But it is a masterpiece of the Wholesome Tale form, I think. }}}

Just got back. It is a rather fetching tale, if I say so myself (on Ol' Anon's behalf). I saw some writing and consistency issues that should have been fixed, but it was a long time ago and we were all a lot more young and naive them, though much less naive afterward. Interesting what you say about Ringo becoming your partner. You know, I always thought Ringo was your life partner, but, like many things, I got that wrong... or did I? Anyway, no matter. The point is, I think we could all be a bit better, morally speaking, if we all read that cautionary tale... just saying. I certainly don't cross bridges casually. You just never know.

Aside from the parenthesis errors (me being a somewhat math geek type), I noted this:

"When she got back to the field with Petty and Odo, she looked shocked, appalled, shaken and somewhat wistful.

"I'm going again..." she said, and trotted off again, but quicker than before."

Well. Maybe that's a young girl's first encounter with a melty ice cream cone and maybe not, but it did seem to capture something of the elusiveness of youth.

Indeed, indeed. Had not seen it that way, myself, but now you have pointed it out, yes, I think so, indeed, I do.

10


"You know," Boo mentioned thoughtfully as Julia Figg made her way out and they awaited Azriel Amplebosom's appearance. "I sometimes feel like I am 'Joe' the bridge under which two horrid trolls awaited the Three Billy Goats Gruff..."

"I have a vague memory of the tale," Halfy mused, having rather vivid memories flashing through his mind just then of a youth that was once very present and real but now was quite elusive. "I think Joe tried to warn them not to come across."

"Yes, but nonetheless they did come across, in spite of Joe's plaintive warning. Though I'm not sure, come to think, that the goats were gruff... Anyhow, here comes Azriel... Take a seat good lady hobbit."

"Well, I hope this is quick, begging your pardons," says she as she alighted on a polymer stool. "I've got a spit roast planned with a couple of acquaintances for later in the morning."

"We will be as quick as possible, I assure you," Boo answered in a stentorian tone (whatever that means). "But we will by no means rush things either. I hope you are aware how serious we are taking this matter."

"If it's half as serious as my intruder took to me last night, then it must be serious," Azriel replied wryly - and somewhat wistfully, truth be known.

"Yes. Yes, indeed... well, I plan to get to the bottom of this, and you must forgive me if I seem rude in doing so."

'Well my intruder was certainly rude in doing so, and he did not care a whit, going right for the bottom, though still managing to find a hand for fondling. Not that I minded in the end. Oh dear! 'end'... 'bottom'... oh what fun this all is. Mind you, it's clearly a serious business. Honest. I know it is. It's just... Well the intruder did make my terrible ordeal rather a pleasant one -and fully fleshed: hard, yes, but not a bit the cyborg; and I should know, having dated a few. Anyway, what would you like to know?"

"Well, to start with, Azriel, do you know who he was?" Lance asked.

"Sadly, no. But I can say I'd recognise his thighs anywhere. Splendid!"

"And his mask? Do you know what it was made of?" Lance pressed.

"Why would that matter?"

"Well, it might give us a clue to where it came from."

"You mean, if it was of Planet 12 spider silk, it may have come from Planet 12?"

"Or Planet 11," Halfy assisted, "where there are several farms."

"And they have some spider farms on the planets in the Stentorian Cluster," Boo mused helpfully.

Azriel laughed. "I was just giving a hypothetical example, Sir!"

"Well, what's the blooming point of that?" Boo asked severely. "We are trying to establish facts, not hypotheses."

"Nor theories," Halfy added. "Theories are of no more use than hypotheses are. Well, not in the current context at least."

"Please shut up," Boo grumbled. "Now, Azriel, do you know what the mask was made of?"

"Well, I think I touched it once or twice, once with my gentle caress, once with my lips, and once he snoozled it deep in the valley of my joyful wonders... You know, I think it was lycra..."

"Wasn't he dressed in lycra, come to think?" Lance averred.

"Indeed!" Boo exclaimed. "I think Julia mentioned it. Someonone did. Maybe ol' Anon did. I can't remember now, damnit. So, Azriel, was his mask and his garments of the same lycra?"

"Well, he whipped off his gaments so quickly, I could not rightly say. But his mask was definitely of Planet 8 monkey lycra. You could tell by the primematal scent. I know my intruder was quite the monkey, that was soon made apparent... .... sorry, I should not make a joke about it. This business is truly serious; however much fun it has turned out to be."

"Mmm.... you have given us plenty to think about," Boo said finally, after a long pause. "You may leave for the time, dear hobbit. And, please, try not to worry yourself too much over things. And by all means enjoy your spit roast."

"I have every intention of doing that," Azriel smiled brightly.

When she had gone, Boo sat silent for a ponderous time, before saying sadly, "I fear that woman is incorrigible. Yes. Sad case."

"And she is not the only one, I hear," Halfy offered. "Times was when 'incorrigible' was not a word that ever came up in polite Forumshiran conversation. But now, well, it's on everyone's lips, it seems."

Any woman who plans a spit-roast rather than just tottering into one is truly incorrigible. My word!

11


Azriel's acquaintances were waiting at her portalslider door when she got there three minutes later. She pushed the door button and slipped inside and removed her space helmet.

"I'll just hurry off and get the lamb," she said. "The spit is already set up, I just got to spit the lamb and turn the rotisserie on. Take a seat. Make yourself at home."

The two 'acquaintances' removed their helmets.

One, a young hobbit of bookish intelligence, Feldo Keenanime, who said he was an exchange student from Great Green Planet in the Andromeda Section of the Milkywhite Cluster, looked carefully around the dome. He smiled obliquely.

The other hobbit, a bow legged chap with a chiselled face that had seen a few too many solar winds, or highland blows, had also a mad mop of wild hair, and a crabbit expression; he smelled slightly of kangaroo poo; a sporran at his belt: he sniffed the air keenly. "Ock tha noo," says he, knowingly.

"Yes, one of me was here last night," says Feldo sardonically. "But don't let on. You know the drill. And remember, no stupid accents."

"It bee me norlmal uccsend!"

"Whatever. Just remember to talk normal Forumshiran. I am tired of sleeping behind rubbish bins. If we can stay here from now on while my evil plans fester, things will be much more comfortable. And will you oil those false arms of yours! You cheap cyborgs are such a worry. Shush! Azriel returns..."



*******


Captain Dave Berry entered the room and took a seat on the polymer stool, still warm from Azriel's cushionlike presence.

"Look here, Captain," Reverent Boo began immediately. "Now as there are just men-hobbits here, we will proceed in a manner that is not the manner we proceed if and when ladies are present. Now, we need you to give an unambiguous account of what hapoened."

"Probably best, Reverent, that I construct a reconstruction by demonstration."

"As you will..."

"I will need the assistance of Halfy."

"By all means."

Halfy hopped up, always keen to perform tasks as requested.

"Now Halfy, imagine this desk is my dining room table. Now get behind me. Bend me over. I will slightly struggle. Yes, that's it. Now down with my jump pants. Out with you know what. Now, Halfy, not so keen.... ... slow down... follow instructions.. hee hee hee, that tickled... an inch or two higher... that's it... now what I want you to do is ... yes, that's it.... good anticipation..."

"Is this really necessary?" Lance asked in a tight voice....

12

Well it was pretty much sewn up as to what was happening as far as Reverent Boo was concerned. He had been suspecting as much all along and Dave's and Halfy's excellent demonstration had but put the final sausage in the hole as far as he was concerned.

"Clearly this has all the hallmarks of the Eldotype," says Boo. "The lycra, the mask, the shocking and embarrassing antics."

"You can say that again," Lance mumbled, still rubbing his eyes in a vain attempt to erase certain images burnt into his optic nerves.

"But what's to do?" Halfy asked as he mopped up with cellulose towelling. "The Eldotype, along with his typical behaviour, has surely returned. But where do we find him?"

"That's the question on my lips," Dave said as he re-panted solemnly, wincing a little painfully. "He is a dangerous individual. Why, I hardly resisted when he performed his ungodly acts upon me while having all my dishes and cutlery knocked clean off the table. It was like he had some exotic psychological power over me. As soon as he threw off his lycra garments, I thought: wow! And then it was like I had been thrust into a dream state... so much thrusting!... But why does he do it? Why?"

"That question may never be answered," Boo answered, just as baffled.

"Maybe he is just sex crazed," Lance offered. "You know, the story goes he was once an upstanding young nerd enjoying his harmless Anime..."

"Yeah," Halfy interrupted with a mite too much excitement for the Reverent's liking. "But then he graduated to watching more 'adult' Anime!"

"Yes, so the story goes," Boo commented. "And then he started cloning himself. Every night, I believe; every night right up until his mother caught him and told him to clean up his mess and leave her house and do something more constructive with his life, like getting a job... After that he lived behind dustbins for several years, mixing with all sorts of Scotshobbits and similar unsavoury sub-species; his anger directed at the world, his sexual frustrations seething and boiling... that's how the story goes, anyway. It might be idle gossip, mind, or just something some anonymous author made up in a purely cheeky attempt to tease and annoy him, who knows?"

"So what is his grand scheme, if he has one?" Lance asked.

"To take over Dome City, no less, and, no doubt, sexually enslave the entire populace!" Boo now sighed with the burden of it all.

"What! Do you mean 'everyone'?" Halfy enquired, a little too brightly for Boo's liking.

"Look, you hobbits are much younger than me, and no doubt, in the secret part of your hearts where penises do your thinking, the idea of being ravished daily, sometimes twice a day, excites you. No, no.. hear me out, we know it's true. Now, it may be all well and good to be sexually satisfied day in and day out, but that is not what  Illuvatar wants for us. It's WRONG to like sex. Illuvatar made it so. It's BLASPHEMOUS!"

"I have always wandered why that was, I confess," Halfy said.

"Haven't we all," Dave agreed.

"Well, Illuvatar set down his rules, a lot of them, many seemingly very esoteric, in the Garden of Bywater. The relevent rule pertaining to the current conversation being, as you know: 'Thou shall not have it off unless thou be-ith having it off in purpose of procreating while the lights are off.' Chapter 3, Verse 6. The great twenty fourth century Theologian, Petty McBanks, also said something that comes to mind now for some unknown reason... 'be careful where you put your sausage lest it be bitten off'.' Anyway, it all gets back to the Holy Almanac, my friends. And it is not for us to question Eru-Illuvatar, God forbid!"

"Sorry," said Dave.

"Sorry," said Halfy.

"Sorry," said Lance.

When Boo gave Lance a quizzical look, the latter said: "Well, I was thinking it all a bit odd, too... though I am always very careful where I put my sausage." And he gave Halfy and Dave a cautionary glance.

Boo sighed again, this time ponderously. But then he galvanised himself (though not literally).

"My good hobbits! Go and get your lazerpistols. We are going on a Clone Hunt!"

And in the midst of all of this, look what just popped up right around the corner from me!



It's some kind of omen: The moral downfall of Forumshire has seeped into me own neighborhood! I'm afraid to go in...there may be jelly vats and whatnot, not two minutes from my front door!

Life imitating art?


(I use the term 'art' loosely, of course. )

13

Lance Bloke was your typical kind of bloke, he did not care for people like the Eldotype, and he enjoyed a thrill of satisfaction as he clasped the buckle of his laser pistol belt. Scumbags like the Eldotype made him sick, especially in fictional stories like this one.

Lance had no truck with Eldotypes who rang your bell, came inside your dome, and then casually started ringing all your other bells. Lance preferred a more respectable time honoured approach when plying the masculine trade.

For instance, when he was attracted to a certain young lady, or a lady of indiscrimate age (like Azriell), he would saunter up to them, in a very masculine saunter, tattoos and all, and ply one of his smooth and elegant pick up lines.

For example: 'Hey babe, you look like an all action type, why not glide over to my all action dome!"

Or: "My bed looks like a 1972 Harley Davidson - chrome bedhead - padded saddle except twice the width - fluffy pillows with headlight prints. I've got the ignition key. Maybe I can start your motor."

If that did not work, there was always: "Why, sweetie, you look the legal age, why not call me over when your Mother goes out and we can play with your dolls."

As I said, your typical bloke. And as to what he had seen demonstrated by Halfy and Dave a few minutes earlier; well, he did not much care for such things at all, at all. Reminded him too much of his old school and his headmaster Odo McPetty O'Banks with his punishment cane.

"That Eldotype needs a laserbullet," says he, with a grimace. Though, just then, his mental image was of Headmaster Odo rather than any Eldotype..

"Well, you'll get your chance," Halfy answered as he stood at the arsenal counter checking out his own laserpistol and a pouch of laserbullets. "There are at least four. And then there's that Ozscotcyborg to deal with. I assume he is just as mixed up in this as the Eldotype."

"Certainly mixed up, whatever the case. These mutants sure give me the creeps. I can't think of anything worse than a Scotshobbit and an Ozhobbit conjoined in some ungodly way - and with computerised metal bits and chromium protuberances and connectors, for all I know."

"I hope he doesn't have a twin."

"Or a triplet. An Ozscotcyborg Triad! Ghastly!"

"A cloned compliment of Ozscotcyborgs! A small army of them!"

'A big army of them! Makes you want to puke!"

"Look, you too. Let's not get too carried away," Dave spoke from the uniform shelf as he pulled up pair of ballistic pantaloons. "We'll stick to what we know. At least four Eldotypes and the one Ozscotcyborg. One Ozscotcyborg is enough for anyone, especially if you have a weak stomach."

Once the three were armed and dangerous, they set out. Once outside the sheriff dome, Dave averred: "If we can find some genetic trace of the Eldotype at Azriel Amplebosom's dome, we can use this Sniffer App to track him to his hiding place. Maybe all four of them."

"That's a mighty fine Sniffer App you got there, Captain," Lance said, impressed. "Is it the latest Apple Sniffer App?"

"Nah. No, Samsung. But it still does the job, and for half the price."

"Don't know why we didn't think to use it earlier in this story," Halfy commented.

"Neither do I. No one did until now, in fact," Dave answered. 'Anyway, enough jawing, let!s head off."

"Maybe we should ride our station turbohoverscooters?" Halfy suggested, sensibly, as Azriel's dome was a few blocks away.

"That's a sensible idea," Dave congratulated him. "Azriel's dome is a few blocks away. You know, and one does laugh to say it, but I didn't even know we had any station issue turbohoverscooters in this story."

"Neither did I until now," Halfy replied.

Soon fluferbuttons were pushed, gearchangerpedals applied, clutchsliptractorblades manipulated, and acceleratorgizzmos pressed.

Halfy's red turbohoverscooter took off manically, throwing Halfy off in a crazy backward somersault to land with a heavy thud in a cloud of surface dust. The others laughed at him with very masculine brothers in arms type humour, and Halfy ruefully got back on his red turbohoverscooters, in pain, but enjoying the funny side of it. Then he pressed his acceleratorgizmo, but with a little less pressure his time. Lol.

And in no time, or only a little, the three sheriffs could be seen on their turbohoverscooters tootling along on puffs of expelled airpuffs as the plied their course toward Azriel's dome, the chrome extractors of theirstation issue turbohoverscooters making quaint little farty noises as they tootled.

toot-toot!

tooooooooooot

14


Now, dear reader, what with the Eldotype and his trusty accomplice, the Ozscotcyborg (whose role, of course, was more cameo or light entertainment as anything else), and the three sheriffs heading that way, and Azriel oblivious at the spit roasting, things were coming to a great climax. Possibly the biggest climax yet in all the long history of the Forumshiran story telling tradition. The climax promised even to be even bigger, when one after the other, the other Eldoclones (exchange students) turned up, each as tight thighed as the next. Azriel was surprised to greet them at the door, one ring-a-ding-ding after the other, and curious as to why they were all wearing party hats with the words, 'The Climax Boys' on them, but she was too polite to ask, not having started drinking yet, it being only just gone noon. She adapted to circumstances and made more room at her electrotable.

Azriel was just about to serve up, when there was another tingling at the doorportal bellringer.

"Oh  I wonder who that could be," Azriel laughed gaily, always the gay host. "I'll have a dome full of tight thighed exchange students here by the end of lunch... oh dear, what? sextuplets or septuplets, not just quadruplets, the way things are going." And she smiled appreciatively.

"Suxtupleets," the Ozscotcyborg laughed.

Azriel went to the doorportal of her dome and when she peeped through the elctropeepermagnifyer, she saw Captain Berry , with Corporal Lance Bloke backing him up.

"Oh my, it's the Fuzz!" She exclaimed. "Why this is turning out to be a most interesting Wednesday (by the Shire Reckoning)."

She immediately opened her portaldoor to them.

"Zee Fooz!" the Ozscotcyborg laughed, as he stood by a painting on the wall of Azriel as a young girl bathing nude in a quarry. Standing there in his tartan skirt, he could easily have been mistaken for a lamp stand, though somewhat hairier than most.

"The Fuzz!" the four other guests cried as one; clonally, in fact.

"Quick! The gig is up! Quick! Out Azriel's back portal!" Cried the four identical guests.

But when they ran out of Azriel's back portaldoor, Halfy was waiting. Four clean laserpistol shots later, the Eldotypes were dead, and a good thing too, when you consider what their evil plan had been.

Dave and Lance and Azriel were out the back in a trice to find their decimated carcasses in the dust, and Halfy there with that famous grin he always wore when he killed people; half satisfaction, half poignancy, and a third relieved.

Azriel was a little bemused until Dave explained the situation.

"And, to think, I was just getting down to enjoying a nice spit roast with the five of them. "

"Five of them?" Lance said, frowning.

"Well, four Eldotype-exchange students, and an Ozscotcyborg. Dear little chap. I thought he was quite cute in his tartan skirt."

"Sweet Illuvatar dress me in pink!" Dave cried. "I thought that lampstand looked hairier than most! Quick! Back inside!"

Lance cursed. "You fool! Since when does a lampstand smell of kangaroo poo!"

But when they got back inside, their quarry had skedaddled.

"Never mind," Amarie said brightly. "Sit down. No need to let a good spit roast go to waste. While you settle in, I'll call the sanitation people to come and clean up those Eldotype carcasses. Can't have them making my back yard look untidy."

"No doubt that Ozscothobbit will turn up again like a bad penny." Dave commented. "They always do. We'll deal with him then. Oh well, it's not like he would have been the brains of the conspiracy, anyway."

"Your meat sure looks juicy, Azriel," Lance congratulated her as he pulled up a chair at her electrotable, and then joked, "I hope it's not just mutton dressed up as lamb."

Azriel smiled to herself. "If only you knew, dear boy, if only you knew..."





"

Le grand mort

'Morts'?