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} Orrie: Zadoc! Quick! To the "What-if" machine!
} Zadoc: Wait! Wasn't this done in digest num...
} Orrie: Yes! Now into the machine!
}
} <cut to neat swirly effects>
}
} The fog clears and we find the Oracle and Zadoc high above an ancient
} roman arena. In the center of the arena are several prominent authors,
} debating who would do what to whom...
}
} Poe: I would pour a vial of poison down your throat slowly, letting the
} numbness take your mind until you go insane, racked with long intervals
} of horrible sanity.
}
} Kafka: I have powerfully thrust the conundrum of existence into your
} mind so that the workings of your inner self twist themselves into the
} horrible visage of... a bug.
}
} Lovecraft: The small region of final comfort that comes from the
} rapidly vanishing light will be your last joy as the frothing confusion
} of the nether blasphemes from the centre of infinity, the one whose
} name no lips dare speak aloud, coughing and spitting from the unlit
} chambers of his timeless home arises, with detestable dark joy and the
} dancing and beating of drums from mindless Other Gods who follow, bring
} your soul into the crawling chaos of the void.
}
} King: Well I can summon brain sucking aliens and killer clowns and a
} horrible awful death from drinking too much beer and turning into a
} slug and a creepy slimey thing that lives in a lake! Ooh! Yeah! That
} scares me! Either that or I'll make you listen to the Rock Bottom
} Remainders!
}
} Adams: I could shove a couch between your jaws at an odd angle.
}
} Herbert: Worms, man, giant desert worms.
}
} Moorcock: I could read to you from the Book. A huge book, a book not of
} my writing. A book whose covers are encrusted with alien gems and light
} from inside. Gleaming and throbbing with brilliant colors unseen from
} before the dawn of the era of the coming of mankind. Book so huge and
} awesomely big that some have called it gigantic. It is a beauteous
} book, lovely to look at and very beautiful. The pages twitch and
} pulsate, rhythmically throbbing and ... pulsating ... moving ...
} undulating ... twisting ... gyrating ...
}
} <several hours later>
}
} Moorcock: ... A book whose contents are so mighteous, so awesome and
} mighty, the unworthy, worthless ones, those without worth, cannot touch
} it for fear of being destroyed, of being annihilated with an awesome
} destruction. Then comes the hero...
}
} <Zadoc elbows the Oracle, who awakens with a snort>
}
} Oracle: Hmph. Well. There you have it supplicant. There's your answer.
}
} Zadoc: But they didn't fight!
}
} Oracle: Well he didn't ask who would win in a fight, he asked who
} would be the last one standing. All the others are asleep. C'mon,
} Zadoc. You owe the Oracle a corn dog, a luscious, tasty morsel of hot
} dog wrapped in corn, corn-encrusted and spitted on a stick with
} corn-batter ....
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