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noticeable swellings in their middles. Moxie and Pepsi had not 'been idle,
since Goodgulf had seen them last.
All night and half the next day Goodgulf and the two boggies rode, ever
watchful for Sorhed's spies. Once overhead Moxie saw a black shape flapping
eastward between the clouds and thought he heard a low, vile _croaking_. But
he had been on pipeweed for several hours beforehand and wasn't sure.
Finally they rested. Goodgulf and Moxie conked off immediately after a quick
game of craps (Moxie lost), and Pepsi, too, lay down as if in a deep snooze.
But when his companions' snores became regular, he slowly slithered from his
pup tent and rifled the Wizard's saddle bags. There he found the round, black
ball Goodgulf had so carefully hidden.
It was smaller than a muskmelon, though larger than a pool ball. Its surface
was featureless save for a small, circular window into the black interior.
"A magic wishing-ball!" he exclaimed. "That's what it is."
The boggie closed his eyes and wished for a keg of ale and a barrel of breaded
veal cutlets. There was a small foof and a puff of fiery smoke, and
Pepsi found himself staring into the face of a monstrous, unspeakably vile
visage, its jowls quivering with malevolence and rage.
"I told you to keep your paws _off_ of it!" shrieked the Wizard, his
bell-bottoms flapping angrily.
"Aw, I was only looking at it," Pepsi whined.
Goodgulf snatched the ball away from Pepsi and glowered. "This," he said
harshly, "is no plaything. This ball is the wondrous _mallomar_, the magic
watchamacallit of the elves, long thought lost in the Sheet-Metal Age."
"Why didn't you say so?" said Pepsi pointlessly.
"With _mallomar_ the Old Ones probed the secrets of the future and looked deep
into the hearts of men."
"Sort of like a Ouija board?" said Moxie sleepily.
"Watch closely!" Goodgulf commanded.
The two boggies watched with interest as the wizard made mysterious passes
over the sphere and muttered a weird incantation.
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"Hocus pocus
Loco Parentis!
Jackie Onassis
Dino de Laurentiis!"
Before their frightened eyes the boggies saw the sphere glow. Goodgulf
continued to mutter over it.
"Queequeg quahog!
Quodnam quixote!
Pequod peapod!
Pnin Peyote!
Presto change-o
Toil and trouble
Rollo chunky
Double-Bubble!"
Suddenly the globe seemed to burst from within with a sparkling radiance, and
a quavering sound hummed through the air. Pepsi heard Goodgulf's voice through
the shimmering glow.
"Tell me, O magic _mallomar_, shall Sorhed be defeated or shall he conquer?
Shall the black cloud of Doom fall on all of Lower Middle Earth, or shall
there be sunshine and happiness with his fall?"
Pepsi and Moxie were astonished to see fiery letters begin to form in the air,
fiery letters that would foretell the fate of the coming struggle with Dark
Lord. It was with wonder that they read the answer: _Reply Hazy, Ask
Again Later_.
VIII
SCHLOB'S LAIR AND OTHER MOUNTAIN RESORTS
Frito and Spam clambered out of breath to the top of a small rise and gazed
out at the landscape that stretched before them, unbroken save for sudden
depressions and swiftly rising gorges, to the slag mines, dress factories, and
lint mills of Fordor. Frito sat down heavily on a cow's skull, and Spam
produced a box lunch of cheese and crackers from their bags.
At that moment there came the sound of falling pebbles, stepped-on twigs, and
a nose being violently blown. The two boggies leaped to their feet, and a
gray, scaly creature crept slowly up to them on all fours, sniffing the ground
noisily.
"Mother of pearl," cried Frito, recoiling from the sinister figure. Spam drew
his elvish pinking knife and stepped back, his heart in his mouth with the
gooey glob of crackers.
The creature looked at them with ominously crossed eyes, and with a little
smile, rose tiredly to its feet, and clasping its hands behind his back, began
to whistle mournfully.
Suddenly Frito remembered Dildo's tale of the finding of the Ring.
"You must be Goddam!" he squeaked. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, well," said the creature, speaking very slowly. "Not much. I was just
looking for a few old pop bottles to help pay for my sister-in-law's iron
lung. Of course, ever since my operation I don't get around like I used to.
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