The Parodies Collection

by Adam Roberts

  And Sharon said, ‘You’re warning me, are you? Some nerve, that is. We shall micturate from an elevated position upon your boys, that’s what we’ll do.’ And he laughed at his own circumlocutionary mode of speaking, whereby a vulgar slang expression is rephrased in a more pompous and elevated idiom for comic effect. For such things amused him, and he liked to say extracting the michael and go forth and multiply and Robert is your mother’s brother and things along those lines.

  And Emu said, ‘Well, all I’m saying is, wouldn’t it be better for your lot to disband, not that I’m reading the riot act or anything.’

  And Sharon said, ‘You don’t frighten me.’

  And Emu said, ‘Oh, don’t I.’

  And Sharon said, ‘No.’

  And Emu said, ‘Oh, don’t I.’ And he waved his hand, and Sharon lost all corporeal form, and his armour clattered to the turf in a great pile.

  And Sharon said, ‘Oi!’ in surprise and alarm.

  And Emu, looking round about with an innocent expression said, ‘Sorry, what?’

  And Sharon said, ‘You pack that in, you’ve magicked away my corporeality, you cheater. Just you undo that spell, undo it right now, oo, I feel most queer, lacking all material bodily existence all of a sudden.’

  And Emu said, ‘Who, me?’ with wide eyes.

  And Sharon said, ‘Don’t act all innocent with me, Buster.’

  And there was a great sucking in of breath by the fang-toothed Wargs, for Sharon in his pride had dared so daringly as to call the creator of all things Buster.

  And Emu said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  And Sharon said, ‘Yeah, right, like anybody else around here is liable to deprive a person of their corporeal form with a wave of their finger. Just give me back my body, and then we can get on with the, you know, fighting and warring and such.’

  And Emu said, ‘What’s it got to do with me?’

  And Sharon said, ‘Now, come along, play fair. You are supposed to be the fair one, after all.’

  And Emu said, ‘Oh, give you back bodily form, is it?’

  And Sharon said, ‘If you don’t mind.’ And he spoke with a certain primness.

  And Emu said, ‘Well.’

  And he waved his other hand, and Sharon resumed bodily form, but not the form he had had before. For where before he had been a towering shape of blackness, with mighty limbs and mightier thews, assuming thews come in the plural, as I think they do, not entirely sure what thews are, but pretty sure that Sharon’s previous form had included them and that they were mighty – anyway.

  —now he was a gigantic eyeball. He lay now upon the sward, three feet across, globular, and filled with vitreous humour. And he was squashy, lacking any internal skeleton or form; and bits of grass and grit did adhere to his moist, adhesive outer layer, causing him thereby some considerable discomfort, I don’t mind telling you. Yet being one of the valpac, albeit a fallen one, Sharon could still speak. And he said, ‘Stop mucking about, this is no good, I’ve not even got limbs.’

  And Emu said, ‘Corporeal form, didn’t you say?’

  And Sharon said, ‘How am I supposed to pick up me sword? Couldn’t you at least give me a tentacle or something? A tentacle, that is, with a, you know, opposable thumb, so that I can wield a sword? Or something?’

  And Emu said, ‘Is that the time? Look, I’d love to chat, I really would, but I have to fly.’

  And Sharon said, ‘What, not even an eyelid? Come on, one single eyelid, that can’t be too much to ask. I’ll get retinal burn-out without it.’

  And Emu, Lord of Creation, transformed ineffably into a gigantic moth, and flew off, becoming a little distracted by a nearby campfire but soon sorting himself out and returning to Westersupanesse, never again to travel to the lands of Upper Middle Earth.

  And Sharon’s personal bodyguard picked up the Lord of Darkness, and wrapped him in the softest blanket they could find, although it wasn’t especially soft, the quartermasters of Evil having earlier received strict instructions not to make their blankets too easy on the skin for fear of mollycoddling the troops of Darkness. And they laid him in a tent, where he complained bitterly about the twigs stuck round the back of his eyeball.

  And the battle of Taur-en-Ferno was joined, and great was the slaying, the slayage, the slay-total, slayen, um, great was the number of the slain, and fires burnt the massive trees of the forest, causing the squirrels and birds to be trapped in the upper branches, until brave fire-squirrels fought their way up in little red outfits and rescued as many of the trapped as they could.

  And after the battle was finished the Army of Darkness was in retreat over the lands of South Blearyland, although the Army of Light was also pretty pooped, and had been reduced to one-twelfth of its original size, what with casualties and so on.

  And Sharon retreated to the grimly named land of Moider!16 And he ordered his Warg bodyguard to carry him to the very top of the tall tower of Cirith Connoli, where they positioned him under a sort of makeshift umbrella. And Sharon was even sourer in mood than before, and plotted a terrible revenge upon the world.

  16 [Author’s note] It is unclear whether this exclamation mark represents a glottal stop, or the mortal remains of an unfortunate parchment weevil who got under the elbow of one of the scribes. Gruf the Dwarf was the first of the free peoples to see this land with his own eyes; he returned in dismay, calling aloud ‘It’s Moider!, I tell ya!’

  Of the New Way of King Bleary and the Effect This Had Upon the Elves of Upper Middle Earth

  King Bleary the Elf called a great moot, or meet, one of the two, I’m not sure, could have been either one to tell you the truth, I had a sort of bunged-up condition afflicting my orifices when this story was related to me and to my wax-packed ears the two words sound exactly alike. But the important thing is that they met at the moot.

  Or mot at the meet.

  I fear I’m straying from the point.

  ‘Elves,’ said King Bleary, ‘first of all, well done on defeating evil. But. Look: we need to improve our casualty reduction target-achievement-rates. And we need to reprioritise our strategic realignments. I’ve decided to take personal charge of the “Ultimate Evil: Just Say No” campaign.’

  And, at his side, Robin ‘Goodfellow’ Cük, Prince of Elves said, ‘Wearhllll eek! hmm grmm mnmm personcharsayno,’ and concluded with a strange high-pitched whinnying.

  And the King roused the moot with a great speech. ‘We need a better tomorrow for Elves. And a better tomorrow after that tomorrow, and a better tomorrow after that tomorrow the day after tomorrow. This is not the end. It is not the beginning of the end. It is not the end of the beginning, nor the end of the end, nor the middle ending of the beginning’s end – no! We have not reached. The end of our endeavour, nor. The ending of the endeavour’s proper end. Indeed, it is quite hard to pinpoint exactly where we are on the line between beginning and end, except to say that we are on that line, and this I say to you without fear or favour. Let us therefore. Brace ourselves to do our duty. And move into the broad sunlit elflands of a brighter tomorrow, a cleaner, healthier, fairer, better, elfier tomorrow. Yet, if we work together. We can put behind us the hindmost, move beyond the hindsight, hinder the hinds. What is our aim? Victory, victory at all costs, victory never mind the price, costless victory, pricelessness, however victorious the victory may be.’

  And the Elves were most impressed by this, and cheered their king loudly. And then the King said:

  ‘After extensive negotiations with Lord Sharon I am pleased to say that we, the Elven people, are able now to extend the hand of friendship to the Orkadian peoples. With the best qualities of Lord Sharon’s belief-system matched with the core values of our own, the future is bright. Thank you, Emu bless you, and Emu bless Elflandia!’

  Now Nodihold did say, ‘Er, what was that last bit, sire?’

  ‘Emu bless Elflandia.’

  ‘No, sire, the bit before the Emu bless bit?’

  And
King Bleary smiled. ‘For too long,’ he said, ‘our land has been riven by the tired old ideologies of “good” and “evil”. It is time for us to wake up to the truth of the modern world, that so-called “goodness” does not work – however noble its aims it ignores the reality of human nature, it cannot generate wealth or provide the social cohesion necessary for a modern elvish state. These tired and exploded dreams have dogged us for too long! I say to you, the road to the future is neither “good” nor “evil”, but a third way, a Bleary new ideology. Lord Sharon and I have had a number of very fruitful and productive meetings on this matter. I’m pleased to report that he is the sort of Being of Evil I can do business with.’

  ‘But – sire,’ said the Elves assembled there, ‘have we not dedicated ourselves to fighting Sharon and all that he stands for?’

  ‘Which,’ said Bleary, ‘is exactly the point I am making. It’s so last-generation, this knee-jerk denigration of Sharon’s achievements. True, I have not always been in agreement with his personal style. But it is foolish to deny his many achievements, in slimming down the Upper Middle Earth economy—’

  ‘—killing and laying waste—’ cried Nodihold.

  ‘—which are,’ said Bleary, speaking more loudly and fixing his face in a more resolute expression as if to say hecklers will not intimidate me, I speak out fearlessly, ‘which are both very effective ways in slimming down an economy, or indeed a country, cutting out the surplus fat and making Upper Middle Earth competitive on the global and interdimensional stages. My Blearyist way forward combines Sharonite vigour and energy with the best of the traditional “goodness” which has always been a proud part of elven politics.’

  And the Elves were confused, and did say, ‘Um, I don’t know, sounds plausible I suppose . . .’ whilst others did say, ‘It’s a betrayal of all that elfishness means’, and so the debate continued, and King Bleary remained king for a little space.

  But eventually the Elves realised that their king was a shyster of shocking depravity, and cast him from the throne, and exiled him from elflands forever. And he was compelled to go seek succour with Lord Sharon; and the former Prince Robin Goodfellow was renamed Robin Badchap, and sent away with his master, though he complained the whole time that he had been misunderstood, and that everything he said had been to contradict what Bleary had argued, yet could nobody understand his complaint, any more than they had been able to understand his original comments, and so his doom was sealed. And the Elves raised up a new king, called Gondor ‘the Brownie’.

  Of the Rage of Sharon

  Now did Sharon concentrate and magnify his rage and despite.17 And his vassals grew more afraid of him than before, since although he was only a gigantic eyeball nevertheless he was powerful, his will was strong, and few could stand beneath his stare without themselves blinking or looking away. And his Ork captains called him ‘Stare-Master’ and were themselves often starestuck in his presence.

  But Sharon did complain mightily, saying ‘It’s extremely uncomfortable, I don’t mind telling you, being a giant eye with no eyelid. I’ve got this permanent spot of blankness right in the middle of my field of vision. I didn’t realise until this moment just how constricted the focusing power of the eye is – only a small percentage of the retina focuses a sharp image; most of the rods and cones relate movement, shade and colour in rather vague terms. And without eyelids the cells in that central portion of my retina are frankly overstimulated, and are burning out.’

  And Lord Sharon’s retinal fatigue did make him vastly grouchy. And accordingly he planned a huge war against Elves and Men to take his mind off it, as far as that was possible.

  And though he possessed mastery over his followers, yet he possessed none of the motor anatomy or eyeball-musculature that moves the eyes in other creatures; and so to look upon something new he perforce must order one of his underlings to pick him up and physically relocate him.

  At the beginning this process was uncertain, and Orks would lift his great spherical bulk with their faces averted, and expressions indicative of considerable distaste, for the skin of Sharon was slimy and unpleasantly pliant, and he did not smell good.

  And on one occasion, Sharon, at the top of his tall tower in Moider!, ordered members of his personal Orkish bodyguard to re-orient him by lifting him and swivelling him through twenty degrees the better to view happenings on the Plains of Polcadot many leagues distant and far below his vantage point. But the Orks charged with this great deed did fumble, and jabbing Sharon in the tender part of the eyeball with an armoured knuckle, did make him call out ‘Oi, watch it, clumsy’, which inspired them with such terror that they dropped the great eyeball of Sharon.

  And the eyeball of evil did fall from its special podium, and roll across the tower’s topmost platform. And Sharon did call out ‘He-e-ey! O-o-oh!’

  And as the Orks scrambled to retrieve the eyeball they did collide with one another in their haste and terror, and one of them was in such fear that he ran hard into the side of the podium, breaking his nose.

  And Sharon’s eyeball rolled perilously close to the top of the spiral staircase, which staircase ran the whole length of the height and depth of the tall tower. And Sharon wavered on the top step. ‘Quickly,’ he called, ‘catch me – use your foot if you have to – before I aaaaaiiiii!’ And it was too late.

  And Sharon did bump down the many stone steps of the spiral staircase, saying ‘Ow! Ow! Ow!’ all the way down. And at the bottom he did bounce surprisingly high, saying as he travelled through the air ‘Oh noo-oo-ooo’. And an Ork soldier at the bottom made a flying leap to try and grab the Dark Lord in the air, but only succeeded in knocking him with an outstretched hand, such that he flew in a great arc through the main gate of the Tower of Cirith Connoli, and rolled away down the parched grassy bank outside. And the Lord of all Darkness finally came to rest in a ditch, pupil-downwards, and as his quivering Orks retrieved him from this undignified position he did say, in a worryingly calm-sounding voice, ‘I am far from happy about this, I can tell you all that right now.’

  And after Lord Sharon had been carried back up all the steps and reinstalled on his special podium, underneath the umbrella, he did order a severe punishment of the Orks who had handled him so clumsily.

  And after this came Bleary the fallen elf to Cirith Connoli, abashed and cast out by his own people, and Robin Badfellow with him. And Bleary did say to Sharon. ‘Look, I know that politics, ruling people, involves some tough choices. Some hard choices. Toughness and hardness. And I say, you know, I’m the man to make those tough choices and hard choices. There are those who say, Tuoni, be soft and weak, but I say, I’m sorry, that’s just not the sort of elf I am. So I say to you, Sharon, look: you’re a leader. On the world stage. And I’m a leader. On the world stage. You’re a person who spans the generations, and who has been a source of inspiration, of one sort or another, to practically everyone. And so am I. So, let us put our differences behind us, and. Agree an alliance between our two great peoples.’

  And Sharon did reply, ‘My spies tell me you’ve been ignominiously kicked out of Elfland as a traitor.’

  ‘Look,’ said Bleary, ‘a lot of things have been said by a lot of people. But let. Me just say this. We’ll respond to those charges. At the proper time. And not before. We’ll respond after the official enquiry has concluded its work. It would be quite wrong for me to prejudge the outcome of that enquiry.’

  ‘You come to me as a worm crawls on its belly,’ said Sharon, ‘and as a worm you shall serve me, the lowliest of my lieutenants.’

  And Bleary did reply, ‘That’s luptenants, O Evil One.’

  And Sharon did say, ‘Shut up.’

  And Bleary did say, ‘Certainly, O Dark Lord.’

  17 This sentence is either incomplete, or else it isn’t. On balance I think I’ll plump for the latter.

  Of the Death of King Gondor in Battle

  Guided by the inside knowledge of Bleary, Sharon was able to slip his troops past the
defences of Elves, if not those of Men. And one night, when the moon was one-dimensional rather than two- and the stars seemed more distant than usual, a troop of Orks came silently out of the hills and attacked the elvish city of Twinned-with-Elfton.

  King Gondor was asleep, and yet he roused himself quickly and prudently and strapped on his armour. And though many Elves were slain in their sleep, yet many Elves did pull swords from under their pillows or from specially constructed sword-stands beside their beds, and battle the insurgents.

  For Elves are fierce fighters, and do not easily lose heart; and though the assault had the benefit of surprise yet did it falter as the Elves rallied themselves. They pushed the Orks back and to the outskirts of the city, and as dawn began to smooth away the darkness from the sky they had formed phalanxes and the Orks were in disarray.

  Seeing, from his high place, that the battle was going badly, Sharon summoned a hideous Baldtrog from his cave; and this great lumbering creature lumbered into the elven city, reducing many of the wooden houses to mere lumber with his great lumbering club. And the sunlight reflected from his hideous bald head did affright many Elves, and frighten them too. And seeing the confusion of their enemies the Orks did re-muster and assault again.

  And King Gondor did cry, ‘Let us not be downhearted! Let us attack, but prudently!’ And he led the charge, although with a fitting caution, and when the conditions of battle were right, and drove the Baldtrog back to the Stream Inkcold. And finally the Orks fled through the cold waters, and the Baldtrog, getting water on his bald head, did start to cry, and it seemed that victory would belong to the Elves. But at the last moment of the fight, an arrow pierced Gondor’s body, and though the wound was not fatal the poison upon the arrowhead was.

  The last moments of Gondor the Brave are recorded in the ‘Ballad of The Last Moments of Gondor the Brave’, still sung amongst the Elves to this day, unless they can think of something better to sing.