“Quickly!” I said. “Do it!”
Professor Steg pushed the button on the box with the tip of his nose.
There was a zum! and a plip! and a window opened in space and time, large enough for an arm to get through.
I reached into it.
“I’ll explain later,” I said. “Fate of the world at stake.” I grabbed the milk from me, fifteen minutes earlier, through the tiny space-time portal.
“You must like milk a lot,” said the globby aliens. “But that craving for lactic liquids will not make us take pity on you or let you go and spare your badly-designed planet.”
“It should,” I said. “What am I holding in my left hand?”
“Er. The milk,” they said.
“And what am I holding in my right hand?”
They paused. Then one alien, so green and small and so globby and crusted that he might have been an enormous snot-bubble blown by an elephant with a terrible head-cold, said, “. . . the same milk from fifteen minutes earlier.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Now. Think about this one very carefully. What would happen if I touched these two things together?”
The globby aliens went a very pale green. The pirates, shiny-black-hair-men, and the piranhas looked at them, puzzled, seeking some kind of explanation, as did the wumpires.
“If two things that are the same thing touch,” proclaimed the volcano god, “then the whole Universe shall end. Thus sayeth the great and unutterable Splod.”
“How does a volcano know so much about transtemporal meta-science?” asked one of the pale green aliens.
“Being a geological formation gives you a lot of time to think,” said Splod. “Also, I subscribe to a number of learned journals.”
I coughed, in what I hoped was an ominous sort of way. “Well?” I asked.
“What he said,” admitted the green globby aliens. “The bit about the Universe ending.”
“So,” I told them. “Unless you wish to spend the rest of your lives in a universe that no longer exists, you had better return things to the way they were. And then go away.”
The aliens looked at each other. They grinned at each other.
One of them pressed the grundledorfer.
The wumpires, pirates, piranhas, volcano god, and the worshippers of the volcano god were gone.
“What if,” suggested one of the green globby aliens hopefully, “we only redecorated the Southern Hemisphere?”
“Not a chance,” I said. “Now, release us, or the milk touches itself! And then go away. Leave this planet forever.”
The aliens looked at me, then they looked at each other, and then they sighed, with a noise like a hundred elephantine snot balloons all deflating at once.
“Right,” they said.
It was at that moment that a voice louder than anything I have ever heard—and I had heard a volcano erupt at very close range—said,
“GALACTIC POLICE.
DO NOT MOVE.”
My hands shook, but the milk did not touch the milk, and the Universe did not end.
There were red and blue flashing lights and then, stepping off their space-bikes, were about half a dozen uniformed dinosaurs, holding unmistakably large and extremely serious weapons. They pointed their weapons at the green globby aliens.
“You are charged with breaking into people’s planets and redecorating them,” said a noble and imposing-looking Tyrannosaurus Rex. “And then with running away and doing it again somewhere else, over and over. You have committed crimes against the inhabitants of eighteen planets, and crimes against good taste.”
“What we did to Rigel Four was art!” argued a globby alien.
“Art? There are people on Rigel Four,” said an Ankylosaurus, “who have to look up, every night, at a moon with three huge plaster ducks flying across it.”
Something very long with a head on the end of it came over to us. It was attached to a very large body, on the other side of the room. “Who are you?” it asked Professor Steg. “And why is your gorilla holding a transtemporally dislocated milk container?”
“I am not a gorilla,” I said. “I am a human father.”
“The human is holding the milk in order to make these evil redecorating snot-bubbles go away and stop menacing this planet and us,” said Professor Steg.
The Diplodocus in a police cap opened its mouth and didn’t say anything.
The Tyrannosaurus, who had handcuffed all of the green globby people together with something that looked a lot more like pink string-in-a-can than it looked like handcuffs, which was a good thing because they probably didn’t have hands and they definitely didn’t have wrists, stared at us and his eyes opened wide.
“Great day in the morning!” he exclaimed. “A biped. A Stegosaurus. A Floaty-Ball-Person-Carrier. . . .” And he stopped, as if unable to go on.
A Pteranodon flapped over to us, then landed at Professor Steg’s feet. It looked up at him, and said, hesitantly, “Would you be . . . ? Could you be…? The inventor of Professor Steg’s Pointy Zooming-into-Outer-Space-Machine? Of Professor Steg’s Really Good Moves Around in Time Machine? Would you be the author of My Travels into the Extremely Far Future and What I Found There? Professor Steg, wisest of all dinosaur-kind? MADAM, IS IT TRULY YOU?”
“It is,” said the Professor. (Madam? I thought, embarrassed.) “And this is my assistant.”
The Pteranodon extended a wing tip for me to shake, and without thinking, I moved the second milk from my right hand to my left . . .
Where the first milk was.
EVERYBODY GASPED.
Unfortunately, the milk that had been in my right hand, which was the same as the milk that was already in my left hand, the same milk fifteen minutes apart, touched each other.
I held my breath.
There was a fizzing noise, and a mewing as if a hundred kittens were being agitated in an enormous basket.
Professor Steg closed her eyes. “I can’t look,” she said.
Three purple dwarfs with flowerpots on their heads appeared from nowhere and began to do a little dance.
“Did the Universe end?” said the Tyrannosaurus, with his eyes tightly scrunched closed.
“LOOK!” I SAID.
We all watched the dwarfs dance. They weren’t human and they weren’t dinosaurs. They had purple skin and the flowerpots on their heads had lots of flowers growing out of them. They did a complicated sort of a dance, with lots of leg kicking and shouts of “OY!” and “OLAY!” and “PERTUNG!” And then, as strangely as they had come, they vanished.
“Ah,” said Professor Steg. “It was always a possibility that this might happen. And fortunately, the Universe has not ended.”
She pressed the button again, with her tail. A small hole in space and time opened up. I was standing on the other side with a baffled expression on my face.
“Catch!” I shouted, and threw the milk through the hole. As the portal closed, I saw me catch the milk using my stomach.