There was a breif sensation of hot flak puncturing his flesh, and then Lemmy knew no more.
Of course, he woke up in the hospital. "You are our best customer!" a grinning doctor was saying. "We make millions on bringing you back to life! You are our best customer! We don't ever want to fix you completely! We want more money!"
Lemmy snarled with pure rage, and hurled the doctor across the room. With a hoarse growl growing deep in his throat, Lemmy charged panting from the room.
He ran smack into Xan.
"No..." Lemmy moaned. "I'm, uh, like, totally sorry about the spellbook thing, dude. But I, ya know, couldn't, like, tell the difference, dude!" he shouted.
"Stop talking gibberish."
"Gibberish? Gibberish! Man, this is wonderful stuff!" Lemmy bellowed, twirling his false mustachios with one finger. He wondered where he had gotten those. "Probably that blasted doctor guy," he muttered.
"He's dead."
"Who's dead?" Lemmy asked.
"Sam."
"SAM?!"
"Yes, Sam's dead."
"SAM?!" Lemmy's jaw dropped in disbelief, and he stared slack-jawed at Xan.
"Yes! Sam!"
"Sam..." Lemmy's voice trailed off, and he slumped lifelessly to the floor.
"That was weird," a passerby remarked. "DOCTOR! DOCTOR! The patient has died again!"
And then...