Mayhem, the man of many bodies, had been given some weird assignments in his time, but saving The Glory of the Galaxy wasn’t difficult--it was downright impossible!
I overheard. Maybe I ought to do that, huh?"
"Larry, Larry--if it's as bad as you say, maybe you ought to think before you do anything."
"Who am I to think? I'm one of the muscle men. That's what they pay me for, isn't it?"
"Larry. You don't have to shout."
"Well, isn't it?"
"If you don't calm down I'll have to leave."
"You can sit still. You can park here all night. I'm leaving."
"What are you going to do?"
"Oh ... that." Larry got up from the table. He looked suddenly green and Sheila thought it was because he had too much to drink. "You don't have to worry about that, Sheila. Not now you don't. I all of a sudden don't feel so good. Headache. Man, I never felt anything like it. Better go to my cabin and lie down. Maybe I'll wake up and find out all this was a dream, huh?"
"Do you need any help?" Sheila demanded, real concern in her voice.
"No. 'Sall right. Man, this headache really snuck up on me. Pow! Without any warning."
