45. Chthonic (pronounced “thonic” to rhyme with “sonic”) is a great word of Greek origin, and means of, or relating to, the Underworld. Feel free to drop it into conversations at home, where it has many amusing uses. For example: “Mum, this broccoli is positively chthonic.” Or: “I’m not sure about that tie, Dad. It looks kind of chthonic.” And, of course, the ever-popular “I’d give that bathroom a minute or two. It smells a bit chthonic.”

46. A very clever joke that plays upon the fact that the word fawn, meaning to gain favor through flattery, and fawn, meaning a young deer, are spelled the same. See? Oh, please yourself. It’s like casting pearls before swine . . .

XXVII

In Which Dorothy Seems Slightly Confused

MARIA AND THE SCIENTISTS, trapped in the sweet factory with a hostile figure apparently made entirely from darkness, had considered their options and done the sensible thing, which was to leave as quickly as possible. They were now in Professor Hilbert’s car, heading in the direction of Wreckit & Sons by taking the shortcut through August Derleth Park. Professor Hilbert was driving, Professor Stefan was in the passenger seat, and Maria, Brian, and Dorothy were crammed in the back. Brian was beginning to recover from his encounter with the dark woman, although his entire body continued to tremble involuntarily, and he would occasionally emit a startled squeak.

Dorothy, meanwhile, was still wearing her beard. Maria had tried not to notice, but it was difficult as it was quite a big beard.

Dorothy caught Maria looking at it.

“It’s the beard, isn’t it?” she said, in her new deep voice.

Maria nodded.

“I was just wondering why you were still wearing it.”

“I like it. It’s warm.”

“Right,” said Maria. She would have moved over a little to put some space between herself and Dorothy, but there wasn’t room because of the human jelly that was Brian.

“And I don’t want to be called Dorothy anymore.”

Professor Hilbert, who had been listening, gave Dorothy a worried look in the rearview mirror. Professor Stefan turned round in his seat. His face wore the confused expression of a builder who has just been handed a glass hammer.

“What do you mean, you don’t want to be called Dorothy?” he said. “It’s your name, and it’s a perfectly lovely one.”

“I want to be called Reginald,” said Dorothy—er, Reginald. “Inside, I feel like a Reginald.”

Professor Stefan frowned.

“But why Reginald?” he said. “Nobody is called ‘Reginald’ these days. It would be like me announcing that I wanted to be called Elsie, or Boadicea.” ⁴⁷

“I like the name Reginald,” said Dorothy, or Reginald. “It was my mother’s name.”

Even Brian stopped shaking for long enough to look bewildered, then went back to trembling again.

“Right,” said Professor Hilbert. “I’m glad we cleared that one up.”

Any further discussion of the matter was postponed by the appearance of a Viking on the road. He wore a metal helmet, but was otherwise entirely naked. This might have been more disturbing had he not been little more than leathery skin and yellowed bone. In his right hand he held a rusty sword, and a shield hung from his left arm.