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

The person you were going to meet with dies. Turns out you have no reason to leave the house at all.


I wish my nose didn't go all snotty when I eat hot food.

Nope, I hope not anyway.

A no-show, though, though others were present.

I'll email them later and see how their doing.




Granted.

Indeed, it dries up so completely you're forced to fall back on spray moisturizers.




I wish there were some ready preventive remedy for the pain I get my lower spine after a long drive.

(Stop here and there and take a walk around.)


Your spine is replaced with a cybernetic... uh... spine. It works great! But then a malevolent AI uses it to take control of you remotely. You can only watch helplessly as you turn on your friends...


I wish I had a cool pocket knife.

It's in your pocket, inside a 2x2x6" lump of ice.

I wish for a feather and syrup bomb to burst over my least favourite local politician, when he's stand near a swarm of angry wasps.

"standing", of course.

After he gets out of the hospital he uses his vast government resources to track you down, slather *you* in syrup, and unleash a swarm of ants upon you.

I wish I had a vampiric love slave...

You did - until that evening with the garlic bread. They're a pile of dust now.

I wish for a self-chilling watermelon.

...a tub large enough to hold the melon, ice sufficient to bury the melon, including a layer underneath, rock salt sufficient to fill the spaces between the ice cubes... ...one of the quickest ways in creation to chill anything... ...chills a twelve pack of beer to icy cold in less than a minute, freezes ice cream mix from room temperature in less than three minutes and the only practical way to chill a two by three foot or larger giant melon fresh from the field...

On the down side, the salt water afterward poured out on the ground will permanently impair soil fertility.




I wish I had a better filing system.

The prospect of having to spend the day going through my mail and searching for documents is daunting.

You do, it's a dozen or so concertina folders, combined with a troupe of heighly educated and trained spiders, to save your fingers from having to do the walking. Is is my fault that a) they're mildly venemous to humans and b) you're scared stiff of spiders?

I wish those people would answer their doors, so that I'd get my share of the survey finished in time.

highly

This isn't a good day. BTW thanks for the watermelon tip - it's a baby watermelon, so a washing up bowl should be enough.

I wish those people would answer their doors, so that I'd get my share of the survey finished in time.


They do and your share of the survey is indeed completed in a timely fashion. However, since the rest of the survey isn't completed at all, your effort is entirely wasted.

I wish I was taller.

You see some candy on the table marked 'eat me' - as your head slams into the ceiling you see a small white rabbit shouting that he is late. He disappears into a tiny doorway.

You are now 9 feet tall and can't possibly follow him through the door.

I wish my coffee was ready!

It's ready, poured, and undrinkably cold; the Man From Porlock called just as it had reached optimal temperature.

I wish to see a local quisling's face when he realises exactly what he's tried to do, even to himself.

You do... IN A MIRROR!!!

DUN, DUN, DUN...

...



...

Best I could do.

...

(More context might've helped. )

...

(Not context about Quisling, I know who Quisling is. Though for the record -- speaking as a member of the younger generation -- most of the younger generation isn't going to get that. Sad but true.)

...

(But yeah, context. More context.)

...

I wish I could find a copy of "Groundhog Day."

(You'd think something so famous would be more available...)

(Although maybe I should just say America's younger generation. I can't rightly speak for other countries...)

You wished to find a copy of Groundhog Day - granted.


Your supernatural informant gives you the following location: It's hermetically sealed in a booby-trapped tin, in the bottom drawer of a locked filing cabinet, in a disabled toilet with a "beware of the leopard" sign on the door, in the basement of a house which is open for two hours on every third 29th of February, and at no other time whatsoever.

I wish that my icing will set smooth and level.

Context may (according to Atwood) be all, but you're not going to get it as that would be one strip too far.

...

Well, anyway, in order to ensure its flatness you MELT the icing into a completely liquid state and simply pour it on. But then, when it resolidifies, it tastes terrible. Oh well.



I wish... for a hand-held ram to knock down the house's locked door, a gun to shoot the leopard, a crowbar to force open the filing cabinet, a vial of acid to dissolve the hermetic seal, and a gullible fool to take the booby trap.

Granted BTW the gullible fool turns out to be you. After all that, the Groundhog Day copy is a Betamax version, not dvd.

I wish that the first batch of biscuits will turn out to be good enough. ie. flat and not visibly burnt.

(Hey, wait, no, no, no, hang on, I clearly meant someone ELSE...)


"After all that, the Groundhog Day copy is a Betamax version, not dvd."

(Damn.)


"I wish that the first batch of biscuits will turn out to be good enough. ie. flat and not visibly burnt."

Ah, they are, BUT they're *not* English biscuits. They are in fact the American version of "biscuit". Totally different food.

I'm not actually sure what they're called in British English.... Um... Round, bread things?

Like a roll, but, crispier and, um, more crumbly...

Here, here, these --- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biscuit_(bread)

And, and, um, uh... ah...

I wish... for... a... plate of... freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.