"C'mon, le's go." Joe shoved Mike toward the waiting ship, at the door of which a behemoth of a figure waited patiently, watching with some apparent disdain as the two, arms around each other's shoulders, weaved unsteadily inside.
Inside the ship, Joe took a long pull at the bottle Mike passed him. Strange, he thought, how an unforseeable factor, upsetting life's routine equations, produces unguessed mental reactions. Until last night he'd never had a drink in his life. Then a little thing like the moon being blown up. Aloud he quoted,
"'Yet what are all such mysteries to me
Whose life is full of indices and surds?
x2 + 7x + 53 - 11/3'"
"Whassat?"
"Lewish Carroll," Joe answered, and wondered greatly at the vast amounts of liquor he had consumed in a short space of time.
"'Beware the Jabberwock, my son....'"
And Joe Waters, the world's most brilliant human, passed out.