20 The Beast and the Bethany

The Beast and the Bethany The beast smashed the door open with the moon-sized bowling ball and used the two-hundred-pound weight and bag of bricks to push the other obstacles to one side. It made the piano play another loud, nasty tune as it waddled into the room. "Mmnh!" it said, as it sniffed the air greedily. "There's a delicious smell of death about the place!" It followed its nostrils and

noticed that the scent was coming from the fresh corpse of Ebenezer. "Poor Ebenezer. It's such a pity—he's one of the better servants I've had over the past thousands of years." "It's not a pity, it's murder!" said Bethany. "If you had given him the potion, he would still be alive." The beast turned its attention to Bethany. It licked its lips when it saw how big she had grown. "My, my, my, Ebenezer fed you well," it said in its soft, slithery voice. "You're as fat and juicy as a ginormous strawberry." "You still look like a big blob of gone-off mayonnaise," answered Bethany. "Ignorant brat! Can mayonnaise do this?" asked the beast. It wiggled, and hummed, and vomited out a gnome.

"No, and I wouldn't want it to. It would totally ruin my chips," answered Bethany. "Also, if I wanted one of those, I could just order one from the garden center." "Foolish child! Can your precious garden center deliver this?" It wiggled and hummed and vomited out a thumb-sized triangular bottle, containing a peculiar-looking blue liquid. The sight made Bethany raise her eyebrows. "That is the elixir of life—a magical potion containing all the vitamins needed for youth, life, beauty, and shiny hair. It's so powerful, even I can't control it, like I do with the piano and all the other things," said the beast, mightily pleased with itself. It paused to think for a moment. "I wonder whether it could bring Ebenezer back. It's going to be

such a pain finding someone else to bring me my meals." "It's a bit—" Bethany began. "Impressive? Mind-boggling? Applause-worthy?" The beast looked most smug. "No. I was going to say that it's a bit—" "Better than a garden center? More extraordinary than a spoonful of mayonnaise?" "No! Frankly, it's a bit… small," Bethany said. The mood hadn't exactly been toasty, but now it dropped by another few dozen degrees. The beast was not one of those creatures who was responsive to feedback. "Small?" asked the beast. "Sorry, did you say the magical, age-defying, life-redefining potion was small?"

"I actually said a bit small," said Bethany. "I'll have you know that I gave that potion to Ebenezer and it kept him young and beautiful and shiny-haired for an entire year!" roared the beast. "And I can make as much of it as I like!" The beast proved its point by wiggling and humming and vomiting again. The end result was another triangular, blue-liquid-filled bottle, which was the size of an entire hand. "That one contains enough liquid to keep someone young and beautiful and shiny- haired for an entire decade!" boasted the beast. Bethany shrugged. She pretended not to be impressed. The beast vomited again, this time producing a triangular bottle the size of an

entire arm—one large enough to hold seventy years' worth of potion doses. "That's more like it," said Bethany. She could see the potion more clearly, now that it was in a bigger bottle. It swirled around with an electric energy and seemed to have a mind of its own. The beast sat down, because it was rather tired out by all the waddling and vomiting. "Come and take a closer look, if you like," said the beast. Bethany took a step forward and the beast's three black eyes sparkled with excitement. She stopped, and then took a step back. "I know what you're trying to do," she said. The excitement in the beast's eyes was now replaced with irritation.