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show like schmold TV. All that lay inside the
tent were a few tables with dead things placed on top of them. Reg
did very little in his spare time aside from eating the nearby
population of Crabbits into extinction. Of their skulls he made
tables on which to place dead Crabbits.
    “You didn’t
see the chaotic mob right outside your tent? I think we even
shattered the planetary record for most teleportations in a
nanosecond. You must have felt some of the land-quakes?”
    “No, I’ve been
in here watching my show, like I said.”
    “I’ll fill you
in,” said Rip.
    He went on to
tell a long rendition of everything that just happened. Being that
it just happened, I’ll skip ahead. But know that Rip told the story
with his usual eloquence and exciting flair for showmanship.
    “That’s the
stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” laughed Reg. He banged his hands
against the table. Bone fragments were scattered across the mud
floor. “You can’t teach a Greeg anything! You can’t get them to be
clean! You’ve surely lost your fleet of ships to this Elizabeth
guy.”
    “ I
disagree,” said Rip. “It can be
done. I will transform a
Greeg within two years!”
    “What’s all
this got to do with me anyway?” asked Reg.
    “I need one of
your Greegs. How else am I going to win the bet?”
    “ One
of my Greegs?” asked Reg. His red
eyes glowed darker crimson, as they were prone to do when he grew
upset. “Not a chance can you have one of my Greegs! I’m barely
getting by with the low number I have right now. I don’t even have
enough for a double-digit orgy, and the tourists are only paying
lots for the big group scenes. There’s no way you can have one of
my Greegs.”
    “Think of it
like an investment. I’ll give you the Greeg back after two years,
regardless of whether I win the bet or not,” lied Rip. “But imagine
I do win the bet… you’ll suddenly find yourself in the ownership of
an intelligent, clean and presentable Greeg. Never in their history
have Greegs garnered those adjectives. Think of the rare attraction
you’d have on your hands if you owned such a specimen. Tourists
would flock from the farthest dimensions, even the invisible one,
just to have a look at this Greeg. You could charge whatever you
wanted for admission.”
    Reg grew
interested. “And if you don’t win the bet?”
    “You’ll still
have your Greeg back, after only a short two year rental period.
And even if I don’t entirely transform the Greeg, I’m sure that in
a couple years I can at least teach it enough tricks to greatly
enhance your outdated show.”
    “Hmm… I
suppose the show is a bit outdated.”
    “A bit? Are
you kidding me?” said Rip, reaching the climax of his suave hustle.
“The Greeg show is done. It needs something new. Everyone’s seen
Greegs having sex, it’s just not that crazy any longer.” He
couldn’t have been lying any more. Greeg carnivals were more
popular than ever throughout the universe. Just not on the rundown,
out-of-the-way planet Reg had chosen to live on.
    The
painfully slow cogs of Reg’s rotted brain began to turn. You could almost hear his
thoughts creaking, like the sound of a thousand fingernails
scratching The Floating Chalkboard of Elbereth (something that has
actually been done, much to the chagrin of those now-deaf folk who
forgot to wear earplugs while doing it).
    “If I
introduced something new to the Greeg show... I could get rich?” he
asked.
    “That’s
right!”
    Reg lingered
over this incredulous thought. “I’ll do it!” he finally shouted.
“You can have one of my Greegs!”
    “You won’t
regret it,” said Rip. “When can I take the beast?”
    “Right
away!”
    “Good. There
is only two years after all. But that’s still enough time.”
    “I suddenly
believe in you,” said Reg, feeling the stoned-like effects of Rip’s
powerful methods of deception. “You seem like a creature of great
intellect.”
    Dr. Rip T.
Brash the Third was indeed a