Greegs & Ladders Read Online Free PDF Page B

with
too many accessories, many of which served no practical purpose.
Practicality was not what Dr. Rip T. Brash The Third was all
about. Rip was brash
though, especially when wildly intoxicated at a carnival, which he
most certainly was. He was prone to making outrageous and
outlandish claims when drunk. Unfortunately for him, his friends
were prone to taking him up on these claims and bets then
collecting when he failed miserably to achieve them. This is likely
the explanation for most, if not all, of his sexual organs. They weren’t really friends as
much as they were leeches. This was so true that it was common for
intergalactic debt counselors to suggest to cash strapped clients
“Perhaps you should try going drinking with Dr. Rip T. Brash The
Third at a carnival.” Nobody knew how he had so much money to lose
on outlandish bets. It’s true every once in awhile he would
actually succeed in the task laid out for himself in a loud
mouthed, drunken stupor the night before, but not nearly enough
times to be breaking even. On this day Rip was more drunk than
usual, and so his primary mouth was flapping more than usual.
Sensing a real chance to not only cover his debts, but perhaps wind
up owning a few thousand civilizations as well, Rip’s drinking
partner, Jim, wasn’t taking Rip up on any of his bets early on in
the night. He instead downplayed them as effeminate and pathetic in
the hopes that Rip would continue one-upping himself until the bet
was so outlandish and impossible to achieve that Jim could never
lose.
    This is, of
course, exactly what Rip did. Beginning with a paltry claim that he
could stick his whole head up the anus of a Graffling Wocker Frit,
spin around three times, return to the bar and still go home with
the prettiest four headed being in the building, Rip eventually got
so drunk and ran his mouth to such a degree that he made the most
preposterous drunken wager ever made in the long and glorious
history of preposterous drunken wagers.
    This was
it.
    Dr. Rip T.
Brash The Third opened his drunken face and guzzled back his
eleventh Crammington Krish Fortini (about ten and a half more than
one should engulf in a lifetime). He slammed the Jardian glass
bottle on the top of the bar and shouted out “I got it!”
    At this point
the entire bar had given up whatever false conversations they’d
been having and were all just focusing on Rip’s self imposed
escalating stakes, waiting to see what ridiculous final challenge
Jim would pull the trigger on.
    Rip grabbed
Jim by the hairy tube dangling from the back of his neck and
dragged him to the Greeg cage. A crowd of about 200 visible beings,
the odd specter and several recording devices followed the pair out
to what had surely become the most interesting thing to happen at
the carnival in days. Rip, always a showman, clambered on to the
side of the Greeg cage, barely held on to the bars with one hand
and held up his twelfth CKF with the other.
    “I, Dr. Rip T.
Brash The Third, do solemnly declare in the name of all
things…”
    Several shouts
of ‘get on with it’ and other such encouragements were volleyed in
his general direction, along with several pounds of half eaten
food, severed limbs and hunks of hard granite.
    “Fine, fine,
no sense of tact and ceremony but fine, here it is. I bet you,
Grahm…”
    “Jim!”
Corrected the mob.
    “Gerry, right,
I bet you my priceless fleet of Obotron 7 Space Ships, er, Jill,
that I, me, yes, can take a lowly, stupid, useless carnival Greeg,
and have them smarter than enough to pass as a decent, semi
intelligent creature, person, thing… in two years. Smarter than all
of you even!”
    The mob went
silent. Then a laugh broke out from the back and collectively
rolled on up to the front. Jim, rolling around on the ground,
unable to believe his luck, screamed out “Yes, yes! Hahahaha
YES!”

CHAPTER 14
    a Wager with
Extraordinarily Off-Kilter Odds Elicits Enough Attention as to
Shatter the Planetary Record for