Perl and the Psychotic Mutant Space Cattle
This is Volume-IV
of Perl’s Script: the comic adventures of Perl and Hari.
Perl and Hari run a French restaurant called Le Tomb, a software startup called Ruby Storm, and are 'scientific detectives' on the side. Oh, and they have a pet talking buffalo called Jagan.
Holy Cappuccino! Those cows are singing opera!
A nondescript artisanal organic farm high
up in the
Can that intrepid
detective-restaurateur-software developer duo – Perl and Hari – solve the
mystery of the musical cows before the strange disease spreads like wildfire
across the plains of
To find out, read on… (Go on. Of course you
want to find out. Don’t be a dummy. Pop that $3.99 or whatever it says on that
price sticker below, and buy the book).
Telangana Herald: This time we’ve nailed it – it’s a book!
Farm & Ag Review: A thought-provoking study on the effects of opera music on milch
cattle. Can Puccini and Verdi augment your herd’s milk production? Read this
book and find out.
Daily BJ: To
be absolutely honest, your friendly reviewer was suffering from a hangover and
couldn’t really peruse this tome, in the strict sense of the word. But I did
flip through it, and caught the word ‘Sex’ about fifteen times, so it can’t be
all that bad.
As you can see, the experts are all over
this book. Shouldn’t you be too?
Excerpt:
There was the scratching sound of a key turning. The door opened and Mata stumbled in. The policewoman put her head around the door. “Five minutes! That is all!" she said, and shut the door again.
“Perl! Hari!” cried Mata in
delight, on seeing them.
Then she became suspicious. “What
you do here?”
“Hi Mata!” said Perl cheerfully.
“We saw you getting hauled in by the police. Just checked in to see if you need
help. Sorry we couldn’t come earlier. We stopped for lunch and some unavoidable
shopping.”
“But… what you do in Lisbon?”
“Passing through… just passing
through…”
“But weren’t you in France some
time ago?”
Perl looked at Mata in wide-eyed
amazement.
“Good Grief! How on earth do you
know?”
“Mata knows.”
“Oh?” Perl shrugged. “Sure we
were there – then. We are here, now.”
“Oh?”
“Yup.”
“I see.”
“Absolutely.”
Mata had another nasty thought.
“You get me into this bird-nest
soup, right?”
Perl’s eyes snapped open in
amazement.
“Us? Why would we do that? We’ve
come to get you out, for God’s sake!”
“Oh?”
“Yep.”
“I see.”
“Good. Look – we don’t have time
for pleasant chit-chat. That policewoman will be back any second now. She told
us everything – the bombs you were carrying and everything. Your baggage has
been sent to the police forensic labs for analysis.”
“Chikusho !”
“Chikusho is about right. She was
telling us it could take weeks and weeks. Maybe forever.”
“Ikenai !” cried Mata. “Gotta get
hats to boss in 48 hours, or boss kill me.”
“Hats? What hats?” asked Perl
innocently.
“Err… some hats. Fashion hats.
Samples. Boss going into haute couture.”
“Ah!” said Perl understandingly.
“The samples will be late for the printemps-été shows, right?”
“Exactly,” said Mata gratefully.
“And by the times those boys in
the police labs have finished testing the hats they’ll look like props in a
horror movie.”
“Chikusho ! Mata not thought of
that.”
“Of course, you could always pass
them off as exceptionally avant-garde hats…”
“No! Boss hate avant-garde!”
“Well, you better break into the
lab and break them out, hadn’t you? Before those boys break your boss’s haute
couture hats, I mean.”
“Labs no problem,” said Mata
dismissively. “Labs full of men, for sure. Men not a problem for Mata. But
gotta break out of airport first. Damn airport full of policewomen!”
“You need to get rid of these
policewomen, right?”
“Right.”
“Tell me – you have your mobile
phone, right? Or have they confiscated it?”
“Mata has spy mobile –
undetectable.”
“Great. Well I can slap together
a little mobile phone app for you – it’ll emit an inaudible sound wave at the
natural resonance frequency of the average Caucasian ovary. It will induce
spontaneous ovulation in all women within a 10 meter radius. All those
policewomen will quickly grab their tampons and charge off to the toilet –
giving you a short window to deal with the men and escape.”
“Kakkoii ! Can you really do
that?”
“Sure. Only one problem – it may
set off your ovaries too.”
“No probs. Mata super-spy. All
super-spy ovaries of steel.”
