Perl and the Psychotic Mutant Space Cattle
Volume-4 in the Perl's Script Series
Perl and Hari solve the mystery of the musical cows and, along the way, the curious party-hat conundrum.
Holy Cappuccino! Those cows are singing opera!
A nondescript artisanal organic farm high up in the Pyrenees. A herd of hitherto well-behaved Lourdaise cattle start singing assorted hits from a small but impressive operatic repertoire. Rossini, Puccini, Verdi of course. A bit of Gilbert and Sullivan. It all topped up with a rousing a cappella rendition of Boléro, as a kind of novelty item or show-stopper.
Naturally, this causes their owner to look askance. Itaffects the marketability of his produce. No consumer wants on his plate singing meat.
Enter Perl and Hari, Scientific Detectives.
Can they solve the mystery of the musical cows before the strange disease spreads like wildfire across the plains of Europe?
Can they prevent a worldwide contagion amongst our bovine –and perhaps porcine and ovine– elements, thereby bringing the global processed meat industry to its knees and forcing us all to turn –God help us– vegetarian?
Can they foil the nefarious plans of HAM&EGG –the notorious vegetarian terror group– which is trying to exploit the situation to bring about just such an eventuality?
Can they, above all, unmask that enigmatic entity known only as ‘The Milkmakers’, which seems to be behind the whole thing?
Their investigations have barely started, when a set of sinister party hats get stolen from the farm. By a Japanese spy. Is it connected? Even worse, the cows get kidnapped. By the vegetarian terrorists and local music-hall talent scouts, in quick succession.
Leaving others to handle the cow situation, Perl and Hari set off on a mad dash across Europe to rescue the party hats, for they believe the hats are key to the conundrum.
But what if the hats are herring, of the red sort?
What if the answers do not lie in Europe?
Or even on Earth?
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?
“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?”
“Oh?” Perl shrugged. “Sure we were there – then. We are here, now.”
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!”
“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 is about right. She was telling us it could take weeks and weeks. Maybe forever.”
“Oh No!” 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?”
“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 suddenly 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.”