Part 2

"Well and good," Kir-Um nodded. "I believe we both realize our task calls for vigilance and a meticulous sifting of fact from fancy. That much goes unsaid. Conceding this genius is merely a boy, perhaps he is a child prodigy or, then again, he may have invented this weapon by accident. That is of little import, however. He has the weapon, we want it and we shall have it."

Harl bowed humbly. "You are right again, Kir-Um. Your deductive powers constantly amaze me. Shall we begin the questioning?"

Kir-Um wasted no time in preliminaries, but came right to the point.

"Where is your secret weapon, boy?" he snapped. He spoke in his native Martian tongue, but the thought behind the words was quite clear in Joe Carson's receptive mind. Joe fumbled for words and finally answered:

"Weapon? What weapon? The only kind of weapon I've got is my Daisy B-B gun, and that's no secret. Mr. Jones, next door, found out about it yesterday when I shot out his front room window. Boy, was he sore!"

Kir-Um nodded knowingly at Harl and said, in an aside: "He's trying to mislead us. But he won't succeed. The truth will out."

Harl leaned forward to try his hand at the cross-examination. "You know very well what weapon we mean, creature. You have kept your secret well, but now you must relinquish it. Do not try to delude us with fanciful stories and false denials."

"Somebody's been feeding you a line, chum," Joe laughed. "Your trolley's jumped the track. Go on back to your cage, pa, and dream up another one. You bore me."

The Martians realized the youth's mental barrier was going to be more difficult to break through than they had anticipated. The situation called for tact, yet the amount of time left to them necessitated a direct attack. Kir-Um summoned all the powers of concentration at his command and slowly, but surely, forced Joe's mind into a state of passiveness. Satisfied, at last, the Earthling would give direct replies to his questions, Kir-Um once more took over the interrogating duties.

"You cannot deceive us, boy," he began. "A few days ago, you wrote a letter to Earth's great science center, _Galactic Ventures_, I believe it is. In this letter, you stated you possessed a secret weapon, powerful enough to destroy this whole planet. You did not divulge the details of this invention, but promised dire happenings to anyone unfortunate enough to have this weapon directed upon them. We want the plans of this amazing contrivance and you will do well to place them in our hands, without delay."

"Oh, that," Joe's voice came dull and emotionless. "That's just a joke. Just something I dreamed up to give the ed. a laugh."

Harl and Kir-Um didn't know what a 'laugh' was, but they did know that they were finally making some progress. A meaningful glance passed between them and they silently congratulated themselves for uncovering the genius' secret in such short order.

"And these _Jokes_, creature," Harl spoke, "does anyone beside yourself possess them?"

* * * * *

The Martians feared perhaps this strange scientist had already distributed his weapon among his fellowmen, in preparation to resist the coming attack. Joe's next revelation immediately justified their fears and shocked them to the point of frustration.

"Sure. All the stf. fans have their little jokes, and they never miss a chance to use them on some dumb ninny. Once I saw the _Misled Biped_ pull a joke on a guy and he nearly went into epileptic fits. Of course, it was a low-grade joke, or it would have laid him out cold as a mackeral. You better never meet up with a fan when he's in a joking mood, 'cause they don't have a bit of mercy and he'd probably play you till you busted wide open."

The goggling intruders had visions of their marvelous bodies, bloated till they were but horrible travesties of themselves, then to burst apart like rotten bladders. Their eyes tried to pierce the forbidding blackness of the suddenly-alive corners of the room and sandpaper tongues darted nervously across dry lips. This bland-faced boy seated in front of them was suddenly a repulsive gargoyle, squatting in his evil throne and reveling in his fiendish power.

Harl coughed and made a feeble effort to compose himself. He had been right--this was too big for them to cope with. They may as well return to Mars and forget their dream of conquest. The Grand Councilor was a fool for ever sending them on such a foolhardy expedition and he and Kir-Um were still bigger fools for accepting the task. Yet, how could they have known they would have to face a smoothly-geared organization consisting of bloodthirsty monsters and power-mad geniuses who dreamed up fantastic weapons just as an idle pastime? It was a plain case of underestimation of the foe, a miserable, stupid failure.

"Don't give up so easily, Harl," Kir-Um had intercepted Harl's unguarded thoughts and, realizing utter despair was rapidly pulling them down to the point of bolting for the door and making a frantic exit from this mad world, grimly purchased a new hold on his waning optimism.

"Don't forget," he added, carefully shielding his thoughts from the ugly Earth-creature, "once this force is in our hands, we will be as powerful as they. More so, in fact, by virtue of our superior intelligence and our ability to improve the _Jokes_ and make of them weapons far surpassing the crude originals in performance. The mere mention of a _Joke_ seems to cause a strange emotion in this youth; an odd, violent vibrating of the entire body, accompanied by spasmodic grunts and squeaks. Probably it is his passionate reaction to the thought of the magnitude of his terrible deed. It is like nothing a Martian has ever known. But it is proof this Earthling regards his own creation with apprehensive fear and is reverently aware of its immense potentialities. We must also realize only a portion of the population of this world has _Jokes_ at their command, which will make our invasion easier and our victory far more certain. True, many of us will die, but, in the end, we will have Earth and all its wondrous resources for our very own. Would you place your own personal valuation above the continuation of our species, Harl? Do you respect the wishes of the Councilor--Dibble-Ibble, bless him--or do you love your own precious fur in preference to honor and glory? Reflect a moment, Harl, and I know you'll see the wrongness of your decision."

Harl's chin was already halfway down to his feet and his shamed blushing indicated he had reconsidered and repented. He still had his doubts, but they had been squelched to a bare fraction of their former greatness by Kir-Um's defaming tirade.

Kir-Um reminded Harl of their determination by pinching his nostrils together and, assured of Harl's co-operation, resumed the questioning of the youth.

"Do you have a _Joke_ with you now, creature?" he asked curiously.

"You bet," Joe replied. "I'm lousy with 'em. Wanta hear one? I got one that'll simply kill you."

The Martians recoiled in terror.

"No," Kir-Um said sternly. "We do not wish to have the _Joke_ demonstrated on us. The first suspicious move you make, Earthling, and you are dead. You may exhibit the _Joke_ and operate it, if you wish, but do not direct it at us, for your life."

"Okay," Joe agreed amiably. "I'll just give you sort of a sample. Here goes: Why did the moron plant dynamite in the dairy? He wanted to see a boom in the ice cream industry!"

Joe bent double, clasping his hands to his stomach and emitting loud "Haws" and raucous "Hee hees." His head bobbed back and forth like an apple in a tub and his feet played a staccato rhythm on the carpeted floor.

* * * * *

Harl and Kir-Um looked on in confused wonder. They could see no reason for the boy's sudden outburst. They looked in vain for the weapon Joe had promised to display. Then the light dawned in Kir-Um's mind and he let go with a tremendous: "E-e-e-ump!"

"Harl!" he said excitedly. "Don't you see--it's the words! The words are the weapon; his _Joke_, as he calls it. Imagine it--words built into a complex pattern to form a destructive force! It is in an embryo stage though, Harl. This creature barely averted disaster just now when his _Joke_ back-fired on him. The pain must be excruciating, the way he is retching and gasping for breath. We may consider ourselves lucky he didn't aim the weapon at us. I shudder at the thought."

Harl was shuddering, too. They were indeed fortunate they were not the object of the force Joe had unleashed, or they would probably now be nothing but lifeless hulks, rotting on the weird world that had betrayed them. He could not understand how words could cause such havoc, but undoubtedly they could, for wasn't the pitiful Thing before them even now contorted with the paralyzing torture he had accidentally inflicted upon himself? Harl knew he could never forget the gruesome drama he was now witnessing. Why, even the creature they had encountered at the citadel of science must have been a victim of a _Joke_, for he had acted in the same strange manner.

"That's the only possible explanation, Harl," Kir-Um was speaking again. "This Earthling has discovered a way to assemble words in such a formation as to cause a violent agitation in whatever they are directed upon. I suspect, Harl, if this genius had received the full force of that _Joke_, it would have shaken him apart, utterly and completely. In other words, it would have decomposed his atoms and spread them from here to Dibble-Ibble knows where. Now, we must learn how to form these word patterns, thus to use them against our foe in the coming invasion. Creature, have you a treatise on _Jokes_?"

Joe ceased his giggling and thought a moment. Yes, he did have a treatise on jokes and they would find it in his desk upstairs. Be sure and not touch his perpetual-motion machine, though, for it was delicately balanced.

Kir-Um immediately dispatched Harl to procure the valuable document and waited impatiently till his companion returned. He accepted the book reverently and placed it safely in an inside pocket.

"Good," he muttered. "Now, creature, you will forget all that took place here."

Joe nodded dully. "I understand. You guys are strictly from dreams. I won't remember a thing about you when I come out of my coma."

* * * * *

The Martians walked to the door and turned to stare triumphantly at their strange companion of the evening. There was a slight twinge of pity in Harl's heart, as he thought of this boy as nothing but a bunch of jumbled atoms flying helter-skelter through the universe, all because he had made a _Joke_.

"You will awaken an hour after we leave," Kir-Um directed.

"Sixty minutes to the dot," Joe affirmed.

Harl and Kir-Um stepped through the door and breathed deeply of the night air. It all seemed like a nightmare now, but the significant bulge in Kir-Um's coat pocket confirmed their brief interlude with the amazing genius, Joe Carson.

Kir-Um withdrew the book and painfully deciphered the title, by the light streaming from a window. It read: _Joe Miller's Joke Book_. The printer must have made a mistake, he reflected. It should read: _Joe Carson's Joke Book_. But no matter.

In the Martians' minds, a picture formed. It was a beautiful picture. Hundreds of sleek, fast spaceships hurtled down on Earth, forming almost a solid sky of steel above the hapless planet. They were strange spaceships, for apparently they carried no armament. The metal that would have been used to equip the ships with guns had, instead, gone into the building of more dreadnaughts of space, for they possessed a weapon far more destructive than any bolt from a ray-gun or blast of a disintegrator-cannon. On the bridge of each ship stood a renowned Martian scientist, a small book clutched tightly in his hand. And on the flagship, the Grand Councilor himself occupied the place of honor, the original copy of the weapon open on a stand before him. As the huge armada entered Earth's atmosphere, gigantic amplifiers blared forth messages of doom to the inhabitants. Words with horrible meaning assailed the ears of the population: 'Why doesn't a chicken cross the road? It doesn't want on the other side!' 'Who was that wife I seen you with last night? That was no wife, that was a lady!' Human creatures screamed in agony and fell in the streets. Ghastly moans of 'Ha haw oh hee!' escaped from clenched teeth and bodies retched with the unbearable pain of their torture. Slowly their bodies decomposed, losing a couple of billion atoms with each convulsion. Soon, not a human remained on Earth and this beautiful world and all its riches passed into the hands of the proven superior species--the Martians. Ah! It was a lovely dream. But soon it would be more than a dream--it would be happy reality. Harl and Kir-Um both sighed together.

They pressed buttons concealed under their coats and slowly began to fade, their outlines becoming indistinct and hazy. Kir-Um raised a hand to his head in salute.

"Poor, foolish Earthlings," he murmured, "this is the end. Always remember, if it had not been for Joe Carson's _Joke_, you would never have found your demise. I salute you, strange creatures."

And they were gone.