Read Once More With Footnotes for Free Online

that glossy coat, those glistening fangs, those three heads, if you feed h im 'Yummy-Doggy'! 'Yummy-Doggy' in the handy two-ounce tin! Cerberus says 'Yummy-Doggy' is scr-r-rumptious! Ask for 'Yummy Doggy'!!"
     
                  "Men of distinction smoke 'Coffin-Nales'!"
     
                  "Tell me, Lucifer, why do you smoke 'Coffin-Nales'?"
     
                  "I like that cool, fresh feeling; the flavour of the superb tobacco; the fifty pounds your firm's paying me for these corny adverts — "
     
                  "Tell me, sir, what are your views on the Colour Bar?"
     
                  "Well, I — er — I mean to say — um — er well — er that is — "
     
                  "What do you think of the y ounger generation?"
     
                  "Well — er — um — ah — yes! Definitely!"
     
                  "Do you agree that violence on television is responsible for the deplorable increase in the Nation's crime statistics?"
     
                  "Well, ah — um — no. That is to say, er — yes. I mean, er — no — ah — um."
     
                  "Thank you very much, sir, for coming here tonight and giving us your views on topics of immediate concern. Thank you. Well, ladies and gentlemen, tune in next week for another — "
     
    -
     
                  Crucible surveyed the company dispassionately. There was the usual bevy of disgrunt led back-benchers, would-be starlets, bored reporters, and of course, the usual fatigue party of Guards, all sipping themselves horizontal on third-rate champagne. A motley and mottled crowd. Crucible, who was becoming quite an expert on crowded atmospher e s of late, diagnosed this one as a particularly fruity blend of stale smoke, Fleurs de Mai, and methane, not to mention the occasional waft of carbon monoxide. He turned to the Devil, who was performing wonders with the cocktail shaker.
     
                  "This, my friend, is what is laughingly called a party; a ritual still found in the better parrs of Belgravia. It seems to consist of a — "
     
                  "Oh, lay off it, Cru. This is the besteshed jag I've hadsh in five hundred yearsh, and I'm gonna make the besht of itsh — "
     
                  A muffled "crump!" indicated that the Devil had "made the besht of itsh," to the best of his ability.
     
    -
     
                  It was a crisp November morning, and in the secluded thoroughfare that was Cranberry Avenue the birds were singing, the leaves were falling, and Crucible was having his breakfast. Between mouthfuls of bacon and mushrooms, he gave the newspapers the swift port-to-starboard. The gossip column caught his eye and he remembered the Devil.
     
                  Throwing the paper in the waste-bin, he wiped his mouth on his napkin and pa dded into the spare bedroom.
     
                  Chaotic was the scene that met his eye. Paper hats, balloons, and streamers were lying around the room and there were of bottles not a few. The Devil himself, still clad in Crucible's second best dress-suit, was sprawled acro ss the bed, snoring loudly.
     
                  "Wakey-Wakey!" shouted Crucible, heartlessly. The effect was impressive. The Devil shot a clear two feet in the air and came down clutching his head; the language he used turned Crucible's ears bright red.
     
                  Crucible busied hi mself in the kitchen, and returned with a cup of black coffee.
     
                  "Here."
     
                  "Ouch! Not so loud." Slurp! "Oh, that's better. What happened last night?"
     
                  "You tried the effect of vodka and Green Chartreuse. "
     
                  " Ouch!"
     
                  "Quite. Now, best foot — er, hoof, forward . Hell's opening ceremony is at