**A/N: Oh, you know I had to include something like this... This is the last chapter of THE HOLY SCROLL, and possibly the last bit of humour I'll write for a while. I seem to have fallen into the great trap that yawns like a grim chasm at the feet of many fanfic writers, which is to suddenly find themselves unamused and frankly irritated by ideas that before entertained them greatly. I'm probably not going to write anything more to do with this particular storyline-
*There comes the sound of a universal cheer.*
- because I am in fact completely bored with it, and I think I could do a hell of a lot better if I worked on other things. *Shrugs.* Oh, well. At least I made people laugh, and most of the time it wasn't at me.
Oh, and this would probably be a good time to mention that I don't own THE HITCH-HIKER'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY, the Blue Oracle, forty-two, moose, George Bush (oh, thank the gods for that), the Copper Islands, marshmallows, or Tamora Pierce's universe. I do, however, own Tamora Pierce, and am forcing her to incorporate all my ideas for slash into the upcoming Tortall and Emelan books. (Let's see... Sandry goes with Daja, definitely, and Raoul goes with Dom, or maybe Gary if we can manage to divorce him and Cythera, and Onua goes with Buri, and Kel remains single until she is magically transported into the modern world and meets me...) Well, not really, but that'd be nice.**
The Conclusion
.
The man was blue. That was the only thing that Jon was entirely sure of at that moment. That, and he wasn't wearing very much, and was sitting on a pedestal, and had his eyes closed. Jon coughed and poked him in the foot.
"Speak your question, mortal," the man said without opening his eyes.
"Uh... what question?"
"ANY question," it replied portentously. "For I am the Blue Oracle. I know all answers to all questions- in a word, everything."
"Everything?" Jon was impressed.
"Everything." The Oracle smiled smugly.
"All right." Jon though for a moment, then asked, "Where are my marshmallows?"
The Oracle opened one eye and stared at him. "That's IT?"
Jon nodded.
"But that's so stupid!" the Oracle protested. "Why, I could correctly answer any question you ask me! For example- ask me the answer of Life."
"Why?"
"Just do it!"
"What's the answer to Life?"
The Oracle's open eye closed. He hummed tunelessly in the back of his throat for a minute, then replied, "Forty-two."
"But how do you know it's right?" Jon asked, rather plaintively.
"It's one of the Truths of Life, the Universe, and Everything," the Oracle replied tranquilly. "Even ask the President. It doubles in meaning for him, actually- it's the answer to Life and the number of brain cells he possesses." He opened one eye again. "Ask me another question, go on."
"Where's my memory?"
The eye closed; the humming started. "On a beach in the Copper Islands, with a moose."
"Wow." Jon though for a minute. It hurt, so he stopped. "But is it TRUE?"
"That hardly matters," came the reply. "I'm an Oracle- people expect what I say to be true. They never bother thinking about it."
The King pondered this, long and hard. Luckily, pondering didn't hurt as much as thinking. Finally, sighing deeply, he turned and asked:
"You're not going to tell me where my marshmallows are, are you?"
"No."
************************************************************************
Somewhere in the Divine Realms, inside a sodden cardboard box, a tiny old man in a battered top hat and black coat laughed uproariously.
"Monarchs," snorted the God of Fizzy Liquids as he wiped tears of mirth from his beady eyes. "They never learn!"
*There comes the sound of a universal cheer.*
- because I am in fact completely bored with it, and I think I could do a hell of a lot better if I worked on other things. *Shrugs.* Oh, well. At least I made people laugh, and most of the time it wasn't at me.
Oh, and this would probably be a good time to mention that I don't own THE HITCH-HIKER'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY, the Blue Oracle, forty-two, moose, George Bush (oh, thank the gods for that), the Copper Islands, marshmallows, or Tamora Pierce's universe. I do, however, own Tamora Pierce, and am forcing her to incorporate all my ideas for slash into the upcoming Tortall and Emelan books. (Let's see... Sandry goes with Daja, definitely, and Raoul goes with Dom, or maybe Gary if we can manage to divorce him and Cythera, and Onua goes with Buri, and Kel remains single until she is magically transported into the modern world and meets me...) Well, not really, but that'd be nice.**
The Conclusion
.
The man was blue. That was the only thing that Jon was entirely sure of at that moment. That, and he wasn't wearing very much, and was sitting on a pedestal, and had his eyes closed. Jon coughed and poked him in the foot.
"Speak your question, mortal," the man said without opening his eyes.
"Uh... what question?"
"ANY question," it replied portentously. "For I am the Blue Oracle. I know all answers to all questions- in a word, everything."
"Everything?" Jon was impressed.
"Everything." The Oracle smiled smugly.
"All right." Jon though for a moment, then asked, "Where are my marshmallows?"
The Oracle opened one eye and stared at him. "That's IT?"
Jon nodded.
"But that's so stupid!" the Oracle protested. "Why, I could correctly answer any question you ask me! For example- ask me the answer of Life."
"Why?"
"Just do it!"
"What's the answer to Life?"
The Oracle's open eye closed. He hummed tunelessly in the back of his throat for a minute, then replied, "Forty-two."
"But how do you know it's right?" Jon asked, rather plaintively.
"It's one of the Truths of Life, the Universe, and Everything," the Oracle replied tranquilly. "Even ask the President. It doubles in meaning for him, actually- it's the answer to Life and the number of brain cells he possesses." He opened one eye again. "Ask me another question, go on."
"Where's my memory?"
The eye closed; the humming started. "On a beach in the Copper Islands, with a moose."
"Wow." Jon though for a minute. It hurt, so he stopped. "But is it TRUE?"
"That hardly matters," came the reply. "I'm an Oracle- people expect what I say to be true. They never bother thinking about it."
The King pondered this, long and hard. Luckily, pondering didn't hurt as much as thinking. Finally, sighing deeply, he turned and asked:
"You're not going to tell me where my marshmallows are, are you?"
"No."
************************************************************************
Somewhere in the Divine Realms, inside a sodden cardboard box, a tiny old man in a battered top hat and black coat laughed uproariously.
"Monarchs," snorted the God of Fizzy Liquids as he wiped tears of mirth from his beady eyes. "They never learn!"