A very short story by Rick Grush
Dr. Fives leapt into the tube. It was a deep pink. He hated the pink ones. More often than not, it meant that there would have to be an amputation. He double checked that his Swiss Army Knife was in his pouch. No, but he had a large inflatable dog. That would probably work just as well.
At one of the portals he saw an old man sitting on a log. His name was Hoobla-Thorfin, and it looked as though a young thief was fixing to mug him. No time for that now, thought Fives.
Dr. Fives had a bad feeling. He was checking the look of the dog when he landed. The situation was worse than he expected. The tongue was entirely lodged in the ocean, as was most of the jaw bone. He tried the dog. Normally, it would have worked; but normally the jaw isn't in the ocean as well. And he had forgotten his knife. Shit.
Hoobla-Thorfin asked the young thug to sit down.
"I'll just take your money, old man."
"You can have it all", the sorcerer, who was well over 300 years old, assured the young man. "But please, join me for some dinner first". Hoobla-Thorfin took another spoonful of his soup.
"Just hand me your wallet."
"Ten sen kephalen, setetai."
"What?"
"Never mind. Won't you join me?" Hoobla-Thorfin asked once more as he set a small jigsaw blade and a spoon on the log next to him.
Dr. Fives returned his attention to the problem at hand. He thought hard, and then finally remembered something his mentor told him long ago: when the dog fails, use a thermonuclear reaction. He started setting up the mirrors.
The thug, whose name was, by a striking coincidence, Johnny Five, sat down and took the jigsaw blade.
"So what do you do?" Hoobla-Thorfin asked. Johnny Five forced the blade into his own forehead and began sawing.
"None of your business."
"As you wish." Hoobla-Thorfin smiled inwardly. Some guilty pleasures, though easy, were always as enjoyable as the first time. After about 5 minutes, Johnny had cut out a small circular disk from his own forehead. He took the spoon, stuck it in the hole, and scooped out a walnut sized chunk of his own cerebral cortex, and ate it.
Dr. Fives was ready. The hydrogen was in place, as was the fission device. As he slithered away, Fives saw in one of the mirrors that he still had a party hat stuck to his tail. Embarrassed, he left it there to be vaporized.
Hoobla-Thorfin watched as Johnny Five began twitching on the ground, the spoon sticking from his head like a unicorn's horn.
Fives found a safe distance, and pushed the detonator button.
Boom.
"Uurrp!" Hoobla-Thorfin belched. No mere belch, as this time, something came up. He spit it into his hand. A tiny inflatable dog, and a miniscule party hat.
"A party hat, huh... that's new," Hoobla-Thorfin thought out loud, and returned to his soup.
(c) Rick
Grush 1998