Brian Character Analysis

“I’ll call him Dog,” said his master, positively. “It saves a lot of trouble, a name like that.”

The hell-hound paused. Deep in its diabolical canine brain it knew that something was wrong, but it was nothing if not obedient and its great sudden love of its master overcame all misgivings. Who was to say what size it should be, anyway?

It trotted down the slope to meet its destiny.

Strange, though. It had always wanted to jump up at people but, now, it realized that against all expectation it wanted to wag its tail at the same time.

“You don’t have to be so lit’ral about everything,” he said. “That’s the trouble these days. Grass materialism. ‘S people like you who go round choppin’ down rain forests and makin’ holes in the ozone layer. There’s a great big hole in the ozone layer ‘cos of grass materialism people like you.”

Dog slunk along with his tail between his legs, whining.

This wasn’t right, he was thinking. Just when I was getting the hang of rats. Just when I’d nearly sorted out that bloody German Shepherd across the road. Now He’s going to end it all and I’ll back with the ole glowin’ eyes and chasin’ lost souls. What’s the sense in that? They don’t fight back, and there’s no taste to ‘em...

“Oh, if that’s all that’s worryin’ you, don’t you worry,” said Adam airily, “’cos I could make you all just do whatever I wanted—”

He stopped, his ears listening in horror to the words his mouth was speaking. The Them were backing away.

[...]

“No,” he said hoarsely. “No. Come back! I command you!”

They froze in mid-dash.

Adam stared.

“No, I dint mean it—” he began. “You’re my friends—”

[...]

Adam opened his mouth and screamed. It was a sound that a merely mortal throat should not have been able to utter [...]

Whatever had been standing in the old quarry before, Adam Young was standing there now. A more knowledgeable Adam Young, but Adam Young nevertheless. Possibly more of Adam Young than there had ever been before.

“What you’re all sayin’,” he summed up, [...] “is that it wouldn’t be any good at all if the Greasy Johnsonites beat the Them or the other way round?”

“That’s right,” said Pepper. [...] “Everyone needs a Greasy Johnson.”

“Yeah,” said Adam. “That’s what I thought. It’s no good anyone winning.”

“I’ll call him Dog,” said his master, positively. “It saves a lot of trouble, a name like that.”

The hell-hound paused. Deep in its diabolical canine brain it knew that something was wrong, but it was nothing if not obedient and its great sudden love of its master overcame all misgivings. Who was to say what size it should be, anyway?

It trotted down the slope to meet its destiny.

Strange, though. It had always wanted to jump up at people but, now, it realized that against all expectation it wanted to wag its tail at the same time.

“You don’t have to be so lit’ral about everything,” he said. “That’s the trouble these days. Grass materialism. ‘S people like you who go round choppin’ down rain forests and makin’ holes in the ozone layer. There’s a great big hole in the ozone layer ‘cos of grass materialism people like you.”

Dog slunk along with his tail between his legs, whining.

This wasn’t right, he was thinking. Just when I was getting the hang of rats. Just when I’d nearly sorted out that bloody German Shepherd across the road. Now He’s going to end it all and I’ll back with the ole glowin’ eyes and chasin’ lost souls. What’s the sense in that? They don’t fight back, and there’s no taste to ‘em...

“Oh, if that’s all that’s worryin’ you, don’t you worry,” said Adam airily, “’cos I could make you all just do whatever I wanted—”

He stopped, his ears listening in horror to the words his mouth was speaking. The Them were backing away.

[...]

“No,” he said hoarsely. “No. Come back! I command you!”

They froze in mid-dash.

Adam stared.

“No, I dint mean it—” he began. “You’re my friends—”

[...]

Adam opened his mouth and screamed. It was a sound that a merely mortal throat should not have been able to utter [...]

Whatever had been standing in the old quarry before, Adam Young was standing there now. A more knowledgeable Adam Young, but Adam Young nevertheless. Possibly more of Adam Young than there had ever been before.

“What you’re all sayin’,” he summed up, [...] “is that it wouldn’t be any good at all if the Greasy Johnsonites beat the Them or the other way round?”

“That’s right,” said Pepper. [...] “Everyone needs a Greasy Johnson.”

“Yeah,” said Adam. “That’s what I thought. It’s no good anyone winning.”