h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

[Scarecrow Stan]: "Ah, well about that... I knew not that a... hey, does that mean the Greek poetess who also liked ladies, also had run a dojo as well, but that-she didn't really much-tell anyone about it? Hmm, probably a reason, & if it's a secret type style; then okay, I won't tell anybody (else) that I figured that out."
*Flops onto a beanbag*
}Glumph!{ <- or similar flopping into a beanbag-chair noise?

"I am a man-of-enterprise, you see. Traveled all up and down the Carribean, the Mediterranean, you name 'em, I've likely to have forgot 'em(?), all the while buying and selling all matter of strange and(/or) useful a ware..."
*Sighs*

"Er, I don't mean to be boring you to near-death, you are perhaps being far too kind, in-putting up with my crummy multi-generational disrespectful raven, and such like."

*Proffers a bottle of Worcestershire sauce from the pocket to his attache case*
"Don'tcha need one of these, for said chex mix?"

*Sets it down on the table (gently).*
*Gets out a mixing bowl too, disproportionate-as-it may seem to be. bag-space is because Stan is not a girl, and therefore_ does not have access to hammerspace?? <- *Is not so sure on that one; what you think? Hammerspace, I had meant.*

I'm good on sauce, mate. No worries, I asked you about your background and I expected you to talk.
I shall tell you more about mine at a later date. At the moment I must prepare for a feast among my brethren.
Until we meet again.... *flash of light, puff of smoke, and she's gone*
*a note nearby says, "make yourself at home, there is wine and bread and cheese if you like. stay out of the closet and don't look under the bed. trust me."*

[Scarecrow Stan]: "Gee, wish there was something I could do to help..."
*With a flutter of his tattered cloak, he packs up 'shop', and gently closes the door to the cabin _behind him on his way out.*

"..."
*Looks at the night sky on the upper deck, smoking from a curley pipe.*

[Qwi]: *Returns from it's flight exercise, and purches on his shoulder, ruffling its feathers a bit as it settles down*

: Atmospheric, huh? . I got Howl's Moving Castle on DVD, for my birthday.

*staggers in and sees Scarecrow Stan* Oy, you got any gold fibre and rockwool you can sell us, mate?
(Howl's Moving Castle? Pray tell, what is that?)

[Sounds to be what promises to be a great movie, and is supposedly based, off a most-excellent book. I just got rejected, by a dear friend, for slipping up, & moving too fast, so _if'n I seem moody... /]
[Scarecrow Stan]: "indeed-I have..."
*Retrieves them from one of many pockets*

: It's about this shaggy haired wizard, who turns out to be more than just what he seems, and he lives in this mechanical palace, that can move around like a creature, then this chick who lives in and works at a hatshop, gets turned into an old lady, for getting this witch mad, 'cuz she seems to like him and,_ that's about as far as I'd got.

(bummer, man. the movie sounds interesting. i think i have heard of it, just not sure when or where.)
Sweeeeet....how much, mate?

[Turned out she was a social climber (); otherwise, could have fooled me. *s bitterly at himself* ]
[Scarecrow Stan]: Those're either a tenpenny weight's worth of something apiece, per twine knot of cord. The rocks'll be about a bronze piece, each; or we can always barter.

: Somehow, I just can't manage to get enough of the hang of, pretending to be a slimeball, down okay enough, to be able to attract women.



Supposing the trick to it, is to behave as though you do not give a d@*n about them, hardly at all, if the objective is to get others to start crawling all o'er ye? I-just wanted, was a date. Someone to take to have or dance with, maybe. , it's always the same. The jerklike guys, seem to wind up, "scoring" easier/more often... somehow, just can't manage, to act slimey enough, to actually attract anyone. *Sulk-sulk, then an lmao*

: Back to Howl's Moving Castle: Naturally enough, for the plot's sake, there is also an army of antique-technological aircraft, that're pursuing them, kinda.

(humans are weird...which is why i wish the damn mothership would come get me and take me home to my planet.....wherever it is...)
Hmmm...tell ya what, I've got some eight-year-old scotch here. Throw in some albatross with the fibre and rockwool and you've got a deal!

[Stan]: "Um, !"
*It's a deal.*

: Remember Mark Twaine. One of his very last s was called: "On the Damned Human Race." . But I could sorta tell, that she really wasn't trying to be acting like a b*tch, too... ,

Sweeeeeeet! Thanks, mate!
(i must go find this book now. forget "fellowship of the ring"! haha! but...a little tip, mate...straight girls dig guys who are macho and assertive and sometimes even a bit dominant.)

: She was a social climber... didn't like that_ it turned out, I wasn't, also. One supposes... *Grump. Grump-grump.* <-why? 'Cuz it did hurt. Y'know?
[Scarecrow Stan]: "Would you, perhaps-like to have a receipt, to go along with that?"

*Prints one out on a steam-powered typewriter-y looking calc. gizmo.*
}Bing!{
*Tears off the piece of paper as it spills over the out-slot.*

Cheers, mate!
A bottle of to celebrate? *offers a cold bottle*

", your-receipt?"

", T'is Okay Raine! I'm the designated bean-counter tonight. Qwi is good for/to drinkin' w/, alright (who knows, ye might unmask a slightly dirty limerick... or something)."

[Qwi]: "There once was a man, in Natntucket, who took his finger and placed i' in an lectric su/ocket,"
*Hiccups, further out of tune*

[Stan]: "Oy! You shut up, Qwi!"
*Swipes at Qwi, with one of his stilts*

"You know, one of these days, I've gotta get that dirty-bird a singing teacher, so that,_ at least as-then, it'd be singing somewhat in tune..."

}Frzzt!{
*Qwi pretends to be dead*
[Stan]: "That'd be, me-joybuzzer."


: Yet one more fine, novelty-item.

*eats some more dips*