PUG Hiccupped

Since I missed commemorating Douglas Adams' birth with this, I thought I'd commemorate his all-too-soon-passing. This is a short story I wrote a few years ago in my attempt at Douglas Adams' style.


PUG hiccupped.

Understandable really, given that PUG was upset. Hiccups were often a symptom of psychological stress. Finding out you’re not alive is rather upsetting. And this realization was one that PUG was trying to come to grips with.

Not only was he not alive now, but he had never been alive. Which was quite a shock to him since he had been operating under the assumption he was alive for several years now.

Therefore PUG was upset. But given the fact that he wasn’t alive, he reasoned, he probably couldn’t really be upset either.

PUG sighed. Now not only was he upset he was getting depressed too.

He tried to think logically about his not being alive.

He reasoned that all the feelings he thought he’d had up to this point he really hadn’t. He reasoned that all his jobs and past accomplishments weren’t his – if they had ever been done at all. He reasoned that all his thoughts and plans were now moot.

He also reasoned that he probably couldn’t rightly run around considering himself a “he” since not being alive probably meant not having any gender to speak of.

Actually, he couldn’t run around at all because he didn’t have legs – he just sat there. Come to think of it he’d always just sat there.

He supposed he must just be some gender-non-specific-sitting-around-thing.

Now he was getting really depressed.

He hiccupped and sighed simultaneously.

The most depressing thing about his whole situation, he reasoned, was the fact that, since he wasn’t alive but was clearly depressed, he couldn’t even manage to kill himself.

This being the most depressing thought he’d ever managed to come up with made him realize that if he just stopped thinking that he’d probably be better off.

Thinking had been what had got him into this mess in the first place and thinking certainly hadn’t been any comfort since he had, since beginning to think on the matter, managed to go from being mildly upset to ragingly suicidal.

Thinking had been the cause of all his problems, so if he stopped thinking he reasoned finally, he would stop having problems.

So he did.



Sebastian was sitting looking at Processing Unit Gamma (or PUG for short) with a puzzled look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Mira asked.

“I’m not sure, the unit seemed to hiccup, sigh then hiccup and sigh at the same time and then it just stopped working. Now it just sits there.”