XXVI
XXVI ‘Screw ye guys! I’m goin’ home!’ quoth Scoot, and the Dudes didst set out with him, leaving Jennifer to go unto New Jersey all alone. And it came to pass that as the Dudes were going faster by not going slower that something didst appear before them as a shimmering crystal. And the crystal said unto them: ‘Hail! élite Knights and Services! ’Tis I, Neo Polygribble, Goddess of Wickershams!’ ‘…The fuck?…’ quoth Nori, and she didst sum up the confusion of all of the Dudes. ‘Oops, wrong story…’ spake the Goddess of Wickershams, and she didst vanish from their midst. And it came to pass that a moment later the God of the People of the Sun didst appear before them as the Cryogenically Frozen Head of Walt Disney, and said unto them: ‘Hail, Dudes! ’Tis I, Matt!’ ‘And who the hell was that?’ quoth Scoot. ‘Oh, that was Neo Polygribble, Goddess of Wickershams,’ spake the God of Buttermilk Biscuits. ‘She is a deity from the 6½TH Dimension. There art other worlds than these, and I guess there art other gods… ‘Anyhoo, we needeth thy help. Pookie, dost thou remember that crazy secretary from the Monolith Corporation when thou died?’ ‘How couldst I forget?’ quoth he, for he had still not forgiven Derrick for letting him die. ‘I only spent a hundred years trapped in a big fuckin’ black monolith.’ ‘Aye,’ spake the God of Ski-Ball, ‘for she hath gotten a crack legal team together and is suing the Grim Reaper. We needest thou to testify ’gainst her or she wilt fuck up all of the mortal world.’ ‘Why shouldst I?’ quoth Pookie. ‘What hast thou ever done for me? All thou’rt gonna do is torture me for half an eternity.’ ‘Quarter of an eternity, by my reckoning…’ spake the God of Things That Don’t Compute. ‘Please, Yoco,’ quoth Scoot. ‘I know thou hast thine issues with the Gods, but at least do it for thy bros, dude!’ And Scoot didst plead for many days, and Pookie didst finally agree. And so the Gods of Hondo didst transport the Dudes unto the courtroom where the great court battle was to take place. And Derrick, God of Odnoh, was there in the form of the Mexican Goat-Sucker of Sri Lanka. And when Loki Amaya saw him, he cried out, ‘Ay-ay-ay! El Chupacabra!’ Quoth the Judge, ‘Well, it jolly well took thee long enough!’ ‘Aye,’ spake the God of Making Up Words. ‘Thou hast thy witness. Let the trial beginneth!’ ‘All riseth!’ cried the Bailiff. ‘Hear ye! Hear ye! The Court of Eternal Affairs is now in session! The Honorable Judge Enma is now presiding!’ ‘Sit down!’ bellowed the Judge. ‘We hath now the Case of the Firm of the Monolith Corporation vs the Angel of Death. The Prosecution may go first.’ And the Prosecutor didst rise and said unto the court: ‘Thine Honor, we are come before thee to proveth that the Angel of Death— a-k-a the Grim Reaper— doth discriminate against mortals.’ ‘Holy crap!’ cried Nori. ‘Now I see what thou meaneth, Lord Matt!’ ‘Silence!’ bellowed the Judge, ‘or I shall hold thee in contempt.’ ‘Eep!’ quoth Nori, and she didst shut up for a change. ‘Thank ye, Honorable Enma,’ quoth the Prosecutor. ‘Now I call unto the stand my first witness, a secretary from the Monolith Corporation. Miss Secretary, telleth us what came to pass that day.’ And so she didst take the stand and told the tale of the day Death visited her office, and when she was finished, the Judge didst awaken the court with a mighty pound of his gavel. ‘Verily I say,’ spake the God of Fist-Pounding, ‘I must get me one of those!’ ‘Oy…’ spake the God of Cheating the Wheel. And the Prosecutor didst sum up his case, saying, ‘There ye have it, Thine Honor: not only is the Angel of Death a crass, chauvinist pig, but he doth discriminate against mortals.’ ‘Of course he doth,’ spake the God of Guerrilla Radio, for he was acting as the Defense. ‘That is his job, as it was ordained even before the Age of the Elder Gods. For that is the very definition of the word “mortal”— one who is doomed to die. Thou art seeking to overturneth a legal precedent older than the Gods.’ Quoth the Prosecutor, ‘Showeth me an immortal being who hath actually died!’ And the God of Uncooperative Items didst present Pookie to the court, saying unto them, ‘Not only hath he died, but he hath also gone to Hell, which is more than thy secretary canst say.’ Quoth the Prosecutor, ‘All she was trying to do was keep uninvited visitors from harassing—’ ‘—Her boss,’ spake Death, for he was not about to let others decide the fate of his job without first putting in his two cents, ‘and Monolith CEO Will Bates doth still hide in his office bunker behind an endless corporate bureaucracy, of which this secretary was just the beginning. Not only doth he flout the Law of the Land, but he doth also thumb his nose at the very laws of Nature.’ And he said unto the secretary, ‘I hate to break this to thee, but thou’rt just a spectator in the events that transpired that day.’ ‘Thou killed me unjustly because thou couldst not taketh my boss!’ cried she. ‘According to my books,’ quoth the Judge, ‘thy time had come, so Death was just doing his job.’ ‘The real injustice,’ spake the God of Filberts, ‘is that Will Bates doth live on past his time.’ ‘Objection!’ cried the Prosecutor. ‘Defense, call thy witness,’ quoth the Judge. ‘For ’tis almost time for Matlock.’ And so the God of 311% of the USDA Daily Allowance of Thiamin didst call Brian Fritz Pud Yoco Peppy McBean Oreamnos Americanus Something Pookie Skanky-Bitch to the stand, and the Judge asked of them, ‘Is that name not a little much?’ ‘Nah!’ spake the God of Evil, ‘If nothing else, ’tis too short.’ And the Dudes didst shrug their shoulders, and Pookie didst sigh dejectedly. And so the God of Technicolor® didst ask of him all that came to pass the day he died and all about his ‘lucky day in Hell’ and the Sacrificial Goat told all. And after Pookie’s moving, compelling tale, the God of Duke Lion didst sum up, and said unto the court: ‘So, Thine Honor, as thou canst see, death doth not just take mortals, for he hath also taken the immortal Brian Fritz Skanky-Bitch. ‘I ask thee to dismiss this case, for it is clearly a waste of thy valuable time. This is clearly just a petty grudge, an attempt to railroad Death on behalf of a spineless, ninety-pound coward who canst not face the music for his own incompetence. We call upon thy good sense in this matter; the Defense doth rest its case.’ And so the Judge didst call a recess whilst he decided his ruling. If the verdict is ‘Guilty!’ turn thee to XVIII. If the verdict is ‘Innocent!’ turn thee to XI.