Pollution (Good Omens)

[befouled.livejournal.com]

It wasn't so much his new environment that confused him as it was the test he had to take to remain there. Pollution had never taken a written test before, much less ever had a need for one... but, he thought to himself, there must be a time and a place for everything.

The questions didn't seem the least bit difficult. In fact, he was surprised they weren't just some practical joke. But the test wasn't going to do itself; he could feel the once polished wood of the table on which the exams rested start to rot and crack in response to his arrival. Best get to it, then.

After giving the questions a brief once-over, the Horseman put his pen to the paper and began to write. (But not before leaving a rather satisfying ink blot on the paper, of course.)

1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?

"The moldy kind, if I had to choose. Cheese is (unfortunately) good for a person. But I hardly see why it matters; I don't care much for food... unless it comes in a styrofoam container."

2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?

Pollution shrugged a careless shoulder, stirring up a cloud of dust in the process. "Death is hardly my realm... but with names like those , I'm sure War would be happy to dispose of them for you."

3. What time is it where you are?

He looked up and around, quickly, before scribbling out his reply.

"If you're going to ask, you ought to have put a clock in this room ... shouldn't you know the answer?"

4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.

... whoever they were. Pollution puzzled at the question for far longer than was necessary, ink dripping from his pen all the while.

Finally, he settled on: "... which is more likely to result in sexually transmitted disease?"

Of course, illness wasn't his forte, either; that was the realm of his predecessor, Pestilence. That man was disease itself. Perfection in the shape of the Plague. Pollution's eyes gleamed with an almost unsettling reverence.

Back at the rotting table, one of the legs threatened to give way.

5. If you are pushing to be in:

A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.

"... I never thought of a bar," he admitted. With the admission came an eerie smile and another loud cracking noise. Wit had gone completely overlooked, in favor of the new possibilities stirring in his head. "I suppose that would be as good a place as any to infest... inhabit."

B. Gryffindor – Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.

Mythology? Harry, Fred and George hardly sounded like gods, nor like angels or demons; God didn't seem too fond of English names, after all. Pollution hmm'ed thoughtfully at the question. Wrote something about diseases again. Scribbled it out.

"They could all marry each other. I don't care."

He paused. "I would send them aerosol cans as a wedding gift."

It was much better than a toaster, at any rate.

C. Ravenclaw – You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.

"Surely you must of figured it out by now? I put it there, of course. Every time. It will continue to clutter your desk, and the other dismal surroundings in your office."

Pollution looked around, then added, as an afterthought: "... I thought you would like it. Really."

D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.

This warranted a rather indignant look from the Horseman.

"Where did you think we got global warming? Radiation poisoning? ... gum underneath your desk?"

6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.

A bribe? But what did he have to offer? More importantly, did all tests require people to bribe others into voting in their favor?

Well, he wouldn't have been surprised.

Pollution thought about it and, coming up with nothing, decided to write: "I hope you're interested in depleted uranium."

I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Pollution
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Pollution
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. Pollution
One day, marmalade will rule the world. ...pity there's still a world to rule Pollution

Comments

[big-wee-hag.livejournal.com]

She could have looked it up in her book of words, but that would have meant stopping the impromptu staring contest she'd found herself in. So she just asked, instead.

"What's pollution?"

[befouled.livejournal.com]

... was this some kind of joke?

It was as if, from the look on his face, something inside Pollution had rattled loose. Something that played a vital role in keeping the Horseman together in the first place. She couldn't have made him feel more disheartened then, even if she had told him they had found a cure for cancer.

Pollution waited a few seconds to see if the girl would crack a smile and say "just kidding!", but the words never came.

"Is this..." he began, testily. "A serious question?"

[big-wee-hag.livejournal.com]

Tiffany could understand the look on his face to some extent. She imagined it would be the look Summer would have if she'd asked what summer was, or the look the Wintersmith would have if she'd asked what winter was. She felt sorry for this Pollution.

"Yes," she replies. "I haven't heard the word before. Sorry," she adds.

[befouled.livejournal.com]

Hadn't heard the word. Well, that was it. No harm done, he told himself. She simply needed to put a name to a face, so to speak. Still, it was hard for Pollution to digest: who hadn't heard of him? He was everywhere. The four of them were everywhere, as was right and natural. Just the way things worked. But here, they just weren't working.

The table cracked again, on cue.

He sat, for a while, with an unreadable expression on his face. Finally a solution dawned on him, and the Horseman leaned in.

"I could show you," he said, with a smile that reeked of petrol. His work had always been a hands-on experience, anyway.

[big-wee-hag.livejournal.com]

Normally Tiffany listens to her First Thoughts and often her Second Thoughts as well. Sometimes she's even successful in hearing her Third Thoughts.

Then there are the times when she just acts on impulse.

This is one of those times.

"Alright," she says, accepting Pollution's offer to be shown what pollution was.

[befouled.livejournal.com]

Perfect.

Now, all Pollution needed a good example. It seemed unlikely that he'd find one here, indoors. The odds of continuing this lesson outside were slim, but give him a patch of disgustingly green grass and he would make certain nothing would grow there for centuries to come. Oh, if only...

But now was not the time to daydream. Pollution took a few steps forward, kicking up dust in the process, and looked around. No. Nothing.

Well, it couldn't hurt to ask.

"... could you get me a glass of water?"

[big-wee-hag.livejournal.com]

Tiffany blinks. A glass of water.

"Alright." She goes to the door and summons a house elf, asking for a house of water, and returns a minute or so later carrying a large glass of water, which she holds out to Pollution.

"Here you are."

[befouled.livejournal.com]

Well, that was certainly easier than expected. Pollution watched and waited the entire process, all the while not budging an inch. Even when the water arrived, he made no move to take it from her until she got close enough. The glass was hardly within a ten-foot radius of him when the glass caked over with a mucky grey-brown film, and when he took it into his hands, it only got worse.

"It is... predominately environmental," he explained, distracted by a strange, cloudy substance that had begun to contaminate the liquid. "Contamination... chemicals. Wastes. Litter. Things... like that. Do you know those words?"

[big-wee-hag.livejournal.com]

Tiffany stared at the water in fascination. She'd never seen anything like it before.

"I've heard the words contamination and wastes before," she says, still looking at the water. "Contamination of ideas, waste of talent, or animal wastes, things like that?" She sticks her finger in the water experimentally. "I've never seen water look like this before."

[befouled.livejournal.com]

Far be it from him to tell her that sticking her finger in the water may not be the wisest thing to do.

"Something to that effect," he replied, when he finally pulled his eyes away from that darkening cloud. Waste of talent, not so much. Animal wastes could lead to runoff, though, in the right areas. "That's what I do."

[big-wee-hag.livejournal.com]

The water stung. Tiffany was sure water wasn't supposed to sting. Her First, Second and Third Thoughts all finally caught up with her, telling her that perhaps this hadn't been such a good idea after all.

Taking her finger out of the water she shakes the last few drips off, and they start staining the stone floor where they hit it. Someone else may have asked Pollution 'why,' but Tiffany knew enough about anthropomorphic beings to know that 'why' had nothing to do with it. They just were. It was the humans or the world that produced the why.

"It's not what you do," she corrected absently, summoning a house elf to take the water away and dispose of it safely. "It's what you are."

[befouled.livejournal.com]

Pollution hmm'ed thoughtfully in response. She was right, after all. "Well met."

And then it was back to the staring contest. Was that the only question she had for him? He wasn't sure how much more of an interrogation he could handle, especially if each question was as hard a blow as the last. Really, who didn't know what he was?

Perhaps he'd missed something along the way. He'd have to work harder.