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seminarist- No! Don't! Not the...
The White Magician's voice faltered, and the Black Wizard emitted a giggle of insane joy.
- Not - the Unspeakable Curse, you mean? And pray, why not? Here it is, right in the jolly old book, just begging to be read. Come, it hasn't seen the light of the sun for millenia - it's my humane duty to finally let it loose.
- Fool! - The White Magician tried to sound impressive, not an easy thing while hanging upside down. - You have no idea what this will do to you.
- Oh, Sublime Teacher, I really must protest - I do have a tolerably good idea. It will do a world of good - for me. Now, as to you, that is another matter...
Meanwhile he proceeded to assemble the necessary instruments, potions and a few notes around the massive lectern supporting the Evil Book - finally open!
- Shall we begin, o Sublime Teacher? - He made a profound bow, full of mock reverence, to the White Magician, all the while covering him with his wand.
- Noooooo!!!..
But the Black Wizard was already busily leafing through his tome.
- There - page 1025, the Unspeakable Curse. Seems to be the right one. So - Sublime Teacher - shut up and go to hell! Here goes...
Peering intently at page 1025 he began his recitation.
- Bglfftzizggghhk'mtwfp... Damn! - He waved his wand counterclockwise impatiently. - Bglfftzizggghhk'mfmwphkh... DAMN!!! - For a few minutes the study looked like somebody set off a thousand cheap fireworks. The White Magician and his apprentices, suddenly free from the bonds of the spell, rushed to open the doors and windows, fanning the air with their long sleeves. When the acrid smoke started to clear, he showed them the disgusting thing slithering under the desk, still alive.
- Is it always like that, o Sublime Teacher?
- Not always exactly like that, but invariably amusing. There is a good reason they called it 'The Unspeakable Curse'. Impossible to pronounce right!
The White Magician's voice faltered, and the Black Wizard emitted a giggle of insane joy.
- Not - the Unspeakable Curse, you mean? And pray, why not? Here it is, right in the jolly old book, just begging to be read. Come, it hasn't seen the light of the sun for millenia - it's my humane duty to finally let it loose.
- Fool! - The White Magician tried to sound impressive, not an easy thing while hanging upside down. - You have no idea what this will do to you.
- Oh, Sublime Teacher, I really must protest - I do have a tolerably good idea. It will do a world of good - for me. Now, as to you, that is another matter...
Meanwhile he proceeded to assemble the necessary instruments, potions and a few notes around the massive lectern supporting the Evil Book - finally open!
- Shall we begin, o Sublime Teacher? - He made a profound bow, full of mock reverence, to the White Magician, all the while covering him with his wand.
- Noooooo!!!..
But the Black Wizard was already busily leafing through his tome.
- There - page 1025, the Unspeakable Curse. Seems to be the right one. So - Sublime Teacher - shut up and go to hell! Here goes...
Peering intently at page 1025 he began his recitation.
- Bglfftzizggghhk'mtwfp... Damn! - He waved his wand counterclockwise impatiently. - Bglfftzizggghhk'mfmwphkh... DAMN!!! - For a few minutes the study looked like somebody set off a thousand cheap fireworks. The White Magician and his apprentices, suddenly free from the bonds of the spell, rushed to open the doors and windows, fanning the air with their long sleeves. When the acrid smoke started to clear, he showed them the disgusting thing slithering under the desk, still alive.
- Is it always like that, o Sublime Teacher?
- Not always exactly like that, but invariably amusing. There is a good reason they called it 'The Unspeakable Curse'. Impossible to pronounce right!
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Date: 2010-10-09 02:34 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2010-10-09 07:20 am (UTC)Wyrd Sisters, by Terry Pratchett
Date: 2010-10-09 07:20 am (UTC)The head revolved to face her.
'My name is unpronounceable in your tongue, woman,' it said.
'I'll be the judge of that,' warned Granny, and added, 'Don't you call me woman.'
'Very well. My name is WxrtHltl-jwlpklz,' said the demon smugly.
'Where were you when the vowels were handed out? Behind the door?' said Nanny Ogg.
'Well, Mr-' Granny hesitated only fractionally - 'WxrtHltl-jwlpklz, I expect you're wondering why we called you here tonight.'
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Date: 2010-10-09 09:31 am (UTC)We had a solemn stage-wait, now, for about twenty minutes--a thing
I had counted on for effect; it is always good to let your audience
have a chance to work up its expectancy. At length, out of the
silence a noble Latin chant--men's voices--broke and swelled up
and rolled away into the night, a majestic tide of melody. I had
put that up, too, and it was one of the best effects I ever invented.
When it was finished I stood up on the platform and extended my
hands abroad, for two minutes, with my face uplifted--that always
produces a dead hush--and then slowly pronounced this ghastly word
with a kind of awfulness which caused hundreds to tremble, and
many women to faint:
"Constantinopolitanischerdudelsackspfeifenmachersgesellschafft!"
Just as I was moaning out the closing hunks of that word, I touched
off one of my electric connections and all that murky world of
people stood revealed in a hideous blue glare! It was immense
--that effect! Lots of people shrieked, women curled up and quit
in every direction, foundlings collapsed by platoons. The abbot
and the monks crossed themselves nimbly and their lips fluttered
with agitated prayers. Merlin held his grip, but he was astonished
clear down to his corns; he had never seen anything to begin
with that, before. Now was the time to pile in the effects. I lifted
my hands and groaned out this word--as it were in agony:
"Nihilistendynamittheaterkaestchenssprengungsattentaetsversuchungen!"
--and turned on the red fire! You should have heard that Atlantic
of people moan and howl when that crimson hell joined the blue!
After sixty seconds I shouted:
"Transvaaltruppentropentransporttrampelthiertreibertrauungsthraenen-
tragoedie!"
--and lit up the green fire! After waiting only forty seconds this
time, I spread my arms abroad and thundered out the devastating
syllables of this word of words:
"Mekkamuselmannenmassenmenchenmoerdermohrenmuttermarmormonumentenmacher!"
--and whirled on the purple glare! There they were, all going
at once, red, blue, green, purple!--four furious volcanoes pouring
vast clouds of radiant smoke aloft, and spreading a blinding
rainbowed noonday to the furthest confines of that valley. In
the distance one could see that fellow on the pillar standing rigid
against the background of sky, his seesaw stopped for the first
time in twenty years. I knew the boys were at the pump now and
ready. So I said to the abbot:
"The time is come, Father. I am about to pronounce the dread name
and command the spell to dissolve. You want to brace up, and take
hold of something." Then I shouted to the people: "Behold, in
another minute the spell will be broken, or no mortal can break it.
If it break, all will know it, for you will see the sacred water
gush from the chapel door!"
I stood a few moments, to let the hearers have a chance to spread
my announcement to those who couldn't hear, and so convey it
to the furthest ranks, then I made a grand exhibition of extra
posturing and gesturing, and shouted:
"Lo, I command the fell spirit that possesses the holy fountain
to now disgorge into the skies all the infernal fires that still
remain in him, and straightway dissolve his spell and flee hence
to the pit, there to lie bound a thousand years. By his own dread
name I command it--BGWJJILLIGKKK!"