Disclaimer: Neither Fullmetal Alchemist nor the Hitchikers Guide series belong to me. I simply enjoy torturing Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged. Also, if you have a request for a character I have not included, feel free to leave the name and/or an idea for that in a review or a PM.
The Many Deaths of Bowerick Wowbagger
Alex Louis Armstrong
Bowerick Wowbagger examined the burly man before him skeptically. From what he'd seen in the last few minutes, he was hopelessly melodramatic and obscenely emotional. The man probably wasn't even worth insulting.
Oh, well. He had decided to insult everyone in the universe, so he may as well get this one over with, worthless though he may be. He stepped out of a corner and stood in the giant's path, smirking slightly when the man came to an abrupt halt.
"WHO ARE YOU, GOOD SIR?" The man boomed, smiling brilliantly and holding out a hand. "I AM MAJOR ALEX LOUIS ARMSTRONG, THE STRONG ARM ALCHEMIST!" Sparkles shot out from the man, hovering about his face and abruptly exposed chest.
"You, Alex Louis Armstrong, have the name of a girl."
An abrupt, shocked silence filled the hallway as a great many people quickly vacated the premises, casting nervous glances in the major's direction.
He suddenly burst out into laughter so loud that the building beneath their feet began to shake. "YOU ARE INCORRECT, GOOD SIR! I HAVE A QUITE MANLY NAME WHICH HAS BEEN PASSED DOWN THE ARMSTRONG FAMILY LINE FOR GENERATIONS!"
Bowerick smiled grimly to himself and took a breath. "Let's hope your dirty, disgusting, pathetic family line ends with you, you simpering creature who possesses such astonishingly feminine qualities.
Alex Louis Armstrong's eyes narrowed.
Wowbagger's grim smile widened slightly.
Central command as a whole cast furtive, desperate glances at the Strong Arm Alchemist and then at the line of people in front of the exits, praying for the evacuation to speed up.
The major burst into sparkles, muscles rippling throughout his body as he flexed his enormous body. "DO NOT DARE INSULT THE ILLUSTRIOUS NAME OF ARMSTRONG, FOUL CREATURE! PROPER HYGIENE HAS BEEN PASSED DOWN THE ARMSTRONG FAMILY LINE FOR GENERATIONS! THE ARMSTRONGS ARE INCREDIBLY FERTILE AND THE MEN ARE WONDERFULLY VIRILE WHILE THE WOMEN OF OUR LINE GLOW WITH FEMININE BEAUTY!
Armstrong's hand came crashing down onto the ground before him, spikes of stone rapidly approaching the green creature, whose eyes widened in amazement. Each spike was delicately traced with the images of Armstrongs of generations past, each in the midst of performing one feat or another.
At last the spikes reached Bowerick and the impeccably sharpened spike slid through him with such ease that he didn't even notice it had resided in his intestines for the space of an entire breath.
Bowerick smiled to himself. He had found a truly majestic person to insult. This was the last thought that crossed his mind before he succumbed to the darkness eating at his vision.
Olivier Mira Armstrong
Bowerick examined the name briefly, suppressing the memory of another Armstrong he'd insulted, years ago now. Armstrong was such a common name that he'd been finding and insulting them one by one for years now, though he'd never quite forgotten the majesty of that man's attack, the brilliant sharpness of his spikes as they tore through his middle…
Bowerick shook his head and proceeded towards his goal. There were quite a few Armstrongs, though- many of whom had the ability to cause him considerable damage.
Bowerick stood before the enormous complex silently staring in awe at the creation. Armed guards surrounded him, tense and ready should he make any move to escape or attack. Bowerick didn't do either of those things, deciding that if he wanted to insult his next target, he'd best be within speaking distance first.
"Spy!"
"What?" Bowerick asked, staring at the woman before him in confusion. "I'm not a spy," he said.
"Why else would you be wandering so close to the Briggs fortress?!" She cried scornfully, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder as she dropped one hand to caress the gleaming blade at her side.
"What?" Bowerick asked again. "No, look here-" He started to move forward a step before thinking better of it as the white-cloaked guards surrounding him lifted their weapons. "I'm just looking for an Olivier Mira Armstrong! I have something to tell her!"
The woman on top of the huge wall stared at him for a brief moment, looking at him in a disgusted manner vaguely similar to the way one might examine a dead bug, before responding.
"I am here. What do you wish to tell me, spy?"
Wowbagger took a breath, looked her in the eye, and opened his mouth.
"You are a cowardly weakling so worthless it's funny!"
Olivier's eyes sharpened and a predatory smile slipped onto her face. "Am I?" She asked. "Am I such a cowardly weakling that I should be shot and hung outside the walls to show an example to others?"
"Yes!" Bowerick called up the walls.
She smiled. "Then you would challenge me to a duel?!" She roared, demonic sparkles shining in her eyes and flames roaring up behind her.
The woman leapt off the wall, landing firmly on the ground (Bowerick had no idea how she did that without breaking at least both her legs) and stalked toward him swiftly, not even drawing the saber at her waist until she was an arm's length from Bowerick.
Her sword parted the skin of his neck before he had time to process, and she laughed scornfully at him before turning away and re-entering her massive fortress.
Heymans Breda
The office of the object was quite, the only sounds the rustling of paper as the military men signed papers and the quick step of footsteps as someone occasionally got up to go to another office or place something in a filing cabinet. The woman in the office sifted through papers, occasionally taking a stack into the inner office.
Bowerick glanced at the man once before grinning darkly. This man was fat. He was clearly slow. Obviously stupid.
He was a perfect target for insulting.
He approached the man quickly, stepping up to the man's desk and speaking without preamble.
"You, Heymans Breda, are a fat, slovenly, ignorant baboon."
The other men in the office exchanged amused grins at Bowerick's statement, and a piece of paper was quickly passed around, several officers scribbling quickly before passing it on. The woman in the office simply raised an eyebrow as she began cleaning her gun.
The man didn't even look up from his equations, speaking quietly and dismissively. "If you would, please refrain from insulting others without taking the time to properly assess them, lest you use inaccurate and pathetic attempts at slander, hmm?"
Bowerick stared at the man, hmphed, and stalked off to find the next name on his list.
Havoc watched as the green dude walked out of the office, grinning at Fuery.
"I guess I owe you 500 cens," the communications officer sighed, pulling out his wallet.
Bowerick later recalled the complicated physics and calculus equations the man had been absentmindedly solving with surprising ease. Perhaps that was why the man had been so amused and unaffected. Perhaps Bowerick should be more careful with his insults. They were meant to offend people, after all.
[He'd never even noticed the practiced speed with which Breda's left hand had dropped to his gun, or the ease with which he'd clicked off the safety and prepared to shoot the annoyance if it didn't jimmediately vacate the premises.]
Izumi Curtis
Bowerick double-checked his list quickly to make sure he hadn't skipped anyone, then glanced up at the butcher's shop before him. He walked inside, glancing around before approaching the counter.
"Excuse me," he asked, "Can I speak to Izumi Curtis for a moment?"
The broad man at the counter nodded shortly before turning and entering the back of the shop. A moment later, a middle-aged woman in a white dress and leggings appeared, wiping her hands on a rag.
"How can I help you?" She asked, smiling politely.
"Izumi Curtis?" Bowerick asked.
"That's me," she confirmed.
"You are an old woman with bad taste, who will never amount to anything." Bowerick nodded calmly and turned to leave the shop.
"A moment, please, sir," She said before he could leave.
"Yes?" Bowerick stopped and glanced at the woman disdainfully, raising one wrinkly eyebrow.
"Do you know what I am?" She asked, smiling gently.
Bowerick's eyebrow rose slightly higher as he examined her.
"You are a butcher's wife," he stated blandly.
She shook her head, her smile even sweeter now. "You're close, but that's not the answer I was looking for," she said, coming out from behind the counter. She reached out a hand for him to shake, and he shook it calmly, not expecting in the slightest what she would do.
The woman grinned, abruptly menacing and psychotic as her hand tightened painfully on his, before turning and throwing Bowerick bodily out of the store, crashing through the glass window and rolling into the street.
"I'M A HOUSEWIFE!" She roared, planting her hands on her hips and setting her feet firmly on the ground.
The last thing Bowerick saw before he lost consciousness was thunder crashing around the woman as her dreadlocks blew in the sudden wind.
Alphonse Elric [Note: the idea for Alphonse's insult came from 'Unleash the Dragon' by Corsiva Vyrae]
Alphonse looked curiously at the green erm...person… before him with curiosity. He'd approached Alphonse and asked to confirm his name, and was now examining him shrewdly. Al was vaguely curious as to what the creature wanted.
"You look ridiculous, and you're worth less than dirt."
Alphonse blinked at the rude creature and smiled faintly at the idea of what Edward would have done, were he there. He shook his head and resisted the urge to laugh the creature away.
"Alright," Alphonse said amicably. "Just so you know, though, your own outfit isn't exactly the height of fashion, itself."
Wowbagger scowled at the boy, who gestured to his long black and silver robe, trimmed in green. "Stupid pretty boy," Bowerick muttered sourly, turning away.
"Excuse me?"
Bowerick turned back to the boy, who's friendly smile had stiffened and whose eyes were beginning to sparkle dangerously. Bowerick smiled- had he just found an insult that would truly anger this human?
"I called you a pretty boy," Bowerick said scornfully, "Or are you deaf as well?"
Yes, Bowerick had certainly found this boy's buttons, judging by the way the boy's smile had simply vanished, into a mask of polite fury.
"No," Alphonse murmured, "I simply wanted to confirm what I'd heard. I wouldn't want to make a mistake because I misheard you."
"What kind of mistake are you talking about, pretty boy?" Bowerick taunted, ignoring the thunder that had started rumbling around them.
"Correcting your misunderstanding, of course," Alphonse said tightly as he stood up from his seat on the train. "You see, I am not a pretty boy." The air around them darkened ominously, energy crackling in the air.
Bowerick swallowed as he remembered a woman from long ago, in a white dress who had had the same thunder and lightning around her.
Alphonse grabbed Bowerick's wrist and uttered one final sentence.
"I'M AN ALCHEMIST!" He roared, turning and hurling Bowerick through the window of the train with unadulterated fury plastered on his once-amicable features.
Edward Elric
Wowbagger took one look at the name and wanted to sob. Why had he decided on this foolishness? Insulting people was painful. Particularly on this world. Every time he came here, Bowerick grew more reluctant to return. It almost never ended well, given these people's almost invariably violent reactions. There were very few people here like the ones in places like England, who simply blinked and blustered as you walked away.
There were far too many people who grew violent and knew (very impressive) martial arts moves that should have killed Bowerick a dozen times over.
Stupid immortality. If only he hadn't messed around with those rubber bands after his lunch- while he was still in the room with the particle accelerator, no less.
It had been such a foolish decision, one he wished he could reverse more than almost anything else aside from insulting these Amestrians.
He sighed and knocked firmly on the door to the little yellow house in the countryside.
"Yes?" A young woman answered the door, wiping her hands on a rag covered in oil.
"Is there an Edward Elric here, by any chance?" Bowerick asked politely. He was insulting people alphabetically, after all.
He was perfectly polite to people before and after their turns. It was his policy.
"Yes, He's here- let me get him for you. Would you like to come in?" She smiled kindly.
"No, that's alright. It will only take a moment."
The woman shrugged and closed the door, retreating back into the house quickly.
When the door reopened a minute later, a young man stood in the doorway, frowning faintly.
"Can I help you?" He asked. "I was in the middle of something."
Bowerick consulted his clipboard briefly, nodded, and took a breath to prepare himself.
"Midget."
Edward's jaw dropped.
Edward's eyes narrowed.
Later, Bowerick could only recall the sheer terror that gripped him as the creature - a painfully obviously not human creature, given that it could turn into a demon at the flip of a switch- reacted to Bowerick's insult. In his worst nightmares, however, he relived the moment over and over, watching it's eyes sprout flames as his tongue become forked and the flames of hell surrounded the two.
Bowerick was later diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder and the doctors urged him to avoid the tiny, 'peaceful' village of Resembool at all costs.
Vato Falman
"You are an irritatingly boring lump of flesh."
Bowerick gazed at the man before him- tall, white hair going gray, squinting eyes, and no reaction.
"Didn't you hear me? You're a useless, worthless pile of bones!" Bowerick said angrily.
"Actually, I'm a pile of bones, muscle, fat, fluids, and the various other things I have in my body."
"Ugh. I'm done with you." Bowerick walked away shaking his head at the futility of some people. Now, where could he find this guy?
Dwarf-in-the-Flask
"What the heck?" Bowerick asked furiously as he kicked another chimera away. "Who lives in a place like this?"
"I do."
Bowerick looked up to see a blonde man in a white robe slouching in a very impressive chair next to a series of pipes.
"Are you the, uh- hold on a moment." Bowerick glanced down at his clipboard and flipped through it quickly, frowning to himself. "Dwarf-in-the-Flask?"
The air in the room tightened as the blonde man scowled. "I am known as 'Father' now. Why have you come here, mortal?"
Bowerick laughed.
"Mortal, me? I wish. That explains the confusion on the list, anyway. I just came here to insult you. You're so pathetic that you skulk around in the city sewers wearing a bathrobe. That's all."
He turned and left, ignoring Father's confusion.
Father
Bowerick looked at the sewer, eyeing it silently. It seemed too familiar, somehow. He shrugged and entered the main chamber, coming to face a tall, blonde man sitting in a chair, some sort of still dripping into a cup at his side.
"I knew this place looked familiar," he said.
Father simply raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you that person who came to insult me a while back?"
Wowbagger nodded. "I knew I'd gotten you." He turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Have a nice day," He said before leaving.
Father, once again, stared nonplussed at the retreating figure.
Kain Fuery
Bowerick glared at the man before him. He had to insult this? But- but- he was just so innocent. Oh, well. Everyone in the universe meant everyone. He winced, hating himself, before he spoke.
"You're a pathetic, puppy loving little boy too naïve for a job in the military."
"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" Fuery blinked owlishly as he looked up, staring at the green creature. "I was listening to the codes on the radio."
Bowerick scoffed angrily. "You think I'm going to waste more valuable air on a worthless piece of trash like you? Forget it."
He stalked off, ignoring Fuery's response of "But you just did…"
After that, Bowerick spent weeks trying to recalibrate his GPS so he could continue with his hobby. Apparently the mousy technical officer had been rather less innocent than he'd appeared.
Greed
Bowerick sniffed disdainfully at the spiky haired (and toothed) man before him. "You live in the back of a bar?" He asked.
"Yeah," Greed grinned. "You got a problem with that?"
"Yes," Wowbagger spat. "You are a disgusting slive who lives in a den of indulgence, feeding off the life energies of others."
"Wow," Greed said. "I'm impressed- you've got me down to a tee. You see, I want everything you can possibly imagine. I want money and women, power and sex, status, glory! I demand the finer things in life! Hey- where'd he go?"
Dolcetto shrugged. "He left sometime during your speech."
"Rude," Greed snorted. "Well, that's life."
Riza Hawkeye
Bowerick had only managed to walk up to the female officer when he found himself staring down the polished barrel of a military-issue pistol.
"If you intend to insult me, I suggest you walk away now," She said, not even bothering to look up from the file in her other hand.
Bowerick began sweating nervously, but didn't back down. Oh, this was going to be painful.
"You're," He swallowed and tried again. "You're way too serious," he managed to choke out. There. He was done. Something rude, but not rude enough to get shot over.
"I suggest you don't return here," she said coldly, her gun not faltering.
Bang!
When Bowerick woke after regenerating, he rubbed his chest, wincing. Apparently he'd been wrong, and it had been something rude enough to get shot over.
Jean Havoc
"What?"
"You heard me," She said over her shoulder, already on her way out of the cafe.
Havoc stared at the (gorgeous) girl as she walked away from him, heels clicking loudly on the ground. She'd dumped him already? They'd only been going out for a week! They hadn't even had a second date, yet!
"Ahem."
Jean looked up hopefully, only to wilt as he saw that the speaker was a strange, greenish man.
"Yes?" He asked sadly.
"You're pathetic."
"I know," Jean said. "She was so hot!" He cried, burying his face in his hands. "I bet the Colonel stole her from me! Why can't he let me keep just one girlfriend?"
Jean didn't notice the green man's uncomfortable expression as he stood there, then turned and walked away. Quickly.
Elicia Hughes
"Are you Elicia Hughes?"
She looked up and shrank back from the strange green man. "My mommy and daddy told me not to talk to strangers."
Bowerick frowned slightly. "That's alright, I just need to tell you something."
The little girl looked at him curiously, nervousness fading in the face of curiosity. "What do you want to tell me, Mister?" She asked sweetly.
A dark smile came over his face as he opened his mouth. "You're an ugly, stupid little girl who'll never get anywhere in life."
As he spoke, the curious shine in the child's eyes was replaced with a glimmer of moisture, then she sniffled, and finally began wailing.
He smiled to himself as she turned and ran inside, tears running town her face as she wailed about the big, green man who was so mean to her.
Maes Hughes
"You."
Bowerick blinked in surprise. He hadn't even said anything, yet.
"You're the bastard who insulted my darling little Elisia."
Ah. That explained it.
"You will pay."
Oh, dear. He was one of those fathers.
Bowerick watched as the air around the man darkened, distant thunder rumbling ominously despite the fact that they were inside a grocery store. Hughes pulled several throwing knives from either sleeve, and Bowerick twitched.
"You're overreacting," Bowerick said, eyeing the knives nervously. "You are way too protective of your daughter." Hughes raised one arm and Bowerick fled.
Later, he considered himself lucky to have escaped with only three knives buried in his abdomen, and he'd managed to get at least something of an insult in. Although, given the man's nature, being called overprotective might be considered a compliment. Oh, well.
Van Hohenheim
Hohenheim sighed contentedly as he held the mug of hot coffee, relaxing into a wonderfully comfortable chair in a small cafe he'd found earlier that day. Over his years of traveling, he'd discovered that one of the only ways he could stay sane was by taking time off every now and again to simply drink coffee and read the paper.
Lieutenant Colonel Goes on Rampage in Grocery Store!
Hohenheim raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his coffee. The picture below the headline displayed a furious man hurling something at- was that other man green?
"Are you Van Hoheneheim?"
He looked up to see the man from the newspaper eyeing him warily. He was, indeed, green.
"I am."
The man nodded, then looked closer. "I thought you were called 'Father.' Or 'Dwarf-in-the-Flask'?"
Hohenheim scowled. "That," he said, "is not me." He bit out. "Can I help you, sir?"
The man shrugged. "You're a pathetic bastard who abandoned his family and will be alone forever. Just thought you should know."
Hohenheim's coffee was long cold by the time he convinced himself to lift his head and carry on.
Roy Mustang
"You're the Flame Alchemist, Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, I take it?"
Mustang looked up with a smirk. "I'm a full colonel, actually. How can I help you?" He didn't react to the man's oddly green appearance. Accidents happened, in the world of alchemy, after all.
"You're useless. Particularly when it rains."
"I see." Mustang frowned. Had it really gotten to the point where random people came into his office to tell him how useless he was? He shrugged, pulling on a glove. He could at least take out some of his frustrations on this unauthorized person who had so rudely barged into his office without so much as a knock.
"Colonel Mustang, sir-" Lieutenant Hawkeye stopped as she noticed the man in Mustang's office, a frown coming to her lips. "I thought I told you not to return here," she said, reaching for her gun.
Wowbagger eyed the window. It was only a two story drop...
Hawkeye cocked her gun, and Wowbagger ran for the window, smashing through just as the bang! echoed through the office.
Wowbagger flinched as a second shot rang through the air a moment later, then noticed he hadn't been hit...aside from the first wound, from which blood was steadily leaking. He staggered away, hoping the crazy lieutenant would leave him be.
Mustang sighed as he glared at the paperwork. At least he'd had a few moments' reprieve. Even if they had consisted of him being called useless.
"Sir…"
"I'm working, I'm working." He rolled his eyes at Hawkeye as she eyed him suspiciously. He loved the woman, but her methods of convincing him to do paperwork were irritating, to say the least. He began signing the sheets, before she could get the idea he was slacking off. Again.
Pinako Rockbell
"What do you want, green-bean?"
Wowbagger eyed the tiny, ancient woman glaring at him from her porch.
"You've got all your limbs. What business do you have here?"
What kind of place did this lady run? Wowbagger looked at his list, then froze. This was Rockbell Automail. In Resembool.
An image of a golden-eyed midget demon flashed through his mind's eye as he began to sweat.
"Hey Granny, I'm going to get- you."
Wowbagger stopped breathing. It was the demon.
"You know this green-bean, Shrimp?"
"Yeah." The demon's eyes hadn't moved. It was still looking at Wowbagger. "From what I hear, he's been going around insulting people."
"Oh, really, now?" She asked. "What for?"
The demon shrugged. "How would I know?" It asked. "What I do know is that- while I'm grateful that he insulted Colonel Bastard, he also insulted Alphonse." The demon cracked its knuckles and the old lady turned to glare at Wowbagger with a look colder than the air at the Briggs Fortress. Shit.
"Is this true, green-bean?" She asked darkly.
Wowbagger could only nod helplessly.
"Well, then." She smiled cheerfully at the demon. "He's all yours, Edward. I'll have some stew ready when you're done out here."
"Thanks, Granny!"
"Please, no!" Wowbagger cried as the old lady entered the house. "Don't leave me alone with this demon, you crazy old bat!"
Granny Pinako hummed to herself as she measured out the vegetables, the sounds of the green man's screams entering through the window. That's what he deserved, thinking he could get away with insulting her family.
Winry Rockbell
Wowbagger groaned as he looked at his list to see who was next. Hopefully it was somewhere far, far away. (Not the actual Far, Far Away- that place was weird. Really, what kind of kingdom was ruled by a frog?)
He stared at his list silently, fighting the urge to curl up and cry. Why? Why did the tiny town of Resembool continuously haunt him? Could he have no peace?
Why hadn't he died already?
He decided not to enter- or even approach the tiny house this time. He waited silently for this girl, Winry Rockbell, to leave.
When at last a blonde woman left the automail shop, he sighed in relief and approached her.
"Excuse me!" He called. "Are you Winry Rockbell?"
She turned in surprise, glancing at him curiously. "Yes, I am. Who are you?" She eyed him for a moment, as though trying to remember something.
"I am called Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged, and I-"
"Ah!" Winry cried, snapping her fingers in delight. "I remember now! You're that guy who insulted Alphonse!" Wowbagger gulped as her face grew dark. "And Elicia." His eyes grew wide as she drew a wrench from her pocket. That was all?
He laughed in relief at the idea that all she was going to do was beat him with a wrench.
"You-you're insane!" He gasped out, clutching his stomach. "After everything that's been done to me, you think a wrench will hurt? What kind of idiot are you?" By this point, he was struggling to hold on to reality.
The odd diamonds he thought he saw shining in her eyes didn't help to convince him of his sanity, either.
Winry growled angrily- this guy clearly did not know the power of her wrench. She smiled darkly. He would learn, though. He would learn.
Afterwards, Wowbagger never entered another department store. He steered clear of prosthetic shops. And when people spoke of the renowned mechanic Winry Rockbell, he shuddered and walked away as quickly as he could.
Never again would he doubt the power of a woman with a wrench.
Truth
Wowbagger had a bad feeling about this one, as he came out of the raging torrent of knowledge within the Gate.
"Did you truly commit the Taboo just to insult me, Al-chem-ist?" Truth asked. It would have raised an eyebrow if It had one, but It had to make do with the proper vocal inflections.
Wowbagger nodded wearily. "Asshole," he muttered. "I'm done here. Can I die now?"
The Truth grinned. "Oh, no," It said. "You will learn the truth of your despair, and you must pay the Toll."
"Just for insulting you?" Wowbagger groaned. "What do you want? I doubt it'll make much of a difference at this point."
Truth grinned and dread began filling Wowbagger's heart. Why had he opened his big mouth?
"You, Al-chem-ist, will never die. Your search for the end will never come to fruition. You will continue insulting people, and suffering for it, for eternity."
Yep. This had definitely been a bad idea. But before he left…
"What is the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything?" He asked.
The Truth grinned again. "I've given you all the knowledge I can for your Toll," It said. "Goodbye, Mis-ter Al-chem-ist."
Bonus Insults
Ling Yao/Greed
"Are you Ling Yao?"
"It's Greed." The Xingese man glared at Wowbagger as though daring him to argue.
Wowbagger consulted his GPS, which he'd finally gotten working again (stupid Kain Fuery), and looked back up at the man.
"My GPS is never wrong, and it says that Ling Yao should be right here."
"Well he's not," the man growled. "This is my body now, so leave me alone."
"Yes, well I already insulted you. It's his turn," Wowbagger protested.
"What are we, children?" Greed snorted. "I don't share, buddy. You see, I want the finer things in life- I want money and women, power and sex, status, glory! I want everything you can possibly imagine!"
"Are you done now?" Wowbagger asked blandly. "Because I have an appointment with some guy called-" he consulted his list briefly- "Ford Prefect in an hour. Can we get this over with?"
"Forget it," Greed spat.
Wowbagger sighed and rubbed his temples. If he didn't get on with it, Truth was going to come after him. Again. "Look, just give him a message for me, alright?"
Greed nodded warily, and Wowbagger sighed in relief.
"Tell him he's an idiot prince who eats way too much." Wowbagger began to convulse just as he finished speaking. "I'm going!" He managed to cry, before going limp.
He lay on the ground for a moment panting before he pushed himself up. "Fucking Truth," he muttered. "I never should have messed with him."
For those who didn't get the end, Wowbagger is now forced to keep a strict schedule of insults, regulated by Truth, as his Toll for committing the taboo.
Alchemyfreak42
"Are you Alchemyfreak42?"
I look up to see, low and behold, Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged.
"Yes, yes I am."
"You're an arrogant, short tempered, flat chested little bitch whose stories are worse than 'My Immortal.'"
I frown thoughtfully, considering his words for a moment before I answer.
"Well, I'll give you the short-tempered, flat chested part- that's fairly accurate, but I'm really not all that arrogant. I know I'm a bitch, and I freely acknowledge that. As for my stories being worse than 'My Immortal,' well that's just a load of bullshit. It's not even possible to manage that, even for a dyslexic monkey on crack that can't even scratch its own ass on its own. You could write the word 'potato' 61,152 times and have a much better story than 'My Immortal.'"
Wowbagger frowns at me, apparently not having received his preferred response.
"So go fuck yourself, okay?" I say, smiling a bit too nicely. "Because I am a short tempered bitch, and I haven't had my coffee yet today. So get the hell out."
I used creative liberties to keep Hughes alive. Deal with it. (We all love him anyway, right? If you don't, that just means you're a HEARTLESS MONSTER).