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

Argh! You two-laptop person you!

*elongates appluase for longer than it was previously elongated to*


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but if only I could have the one that worked properly all the time this one I'me using is the older one, and needs a new keyboard, new keys and a new keyboard membrane, and a new caseing for the laptop but its working on the internet, which the newer one (about four months old!) isn't up here, but is at my Dads (one is an internal intranet connection at Uni, and the other a regular telephone line connection), but *elongates Grin even more

Argh! You two-laptop person you!!


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But I don't have a desktop but I do have a third laptop that is totally broken and really anchient but I haven't got the heart to throw in the bin

Argh! You two-laptop person you!

Anyway, if you have two laptops you don't need a desktop. And if you even have ony the one laptop, you still don't need a desktop...

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And, after a elongated period of seeming quietness and normality, or at least abstanence from the continuing thing::
And, here, yet again, but no, somehow different to the last time, is, yes, you guessed it a new episode, which is why, mainly speaking, it is not the same as the previous one, episode that is which is different from the current all new, singing whistling and stretching episode, or, well, at least that is what the technical director thought whilst knocking up this episode during a particularly dull lunch time spent in the “hoarse and hound” over a few glasses of claret.
So, here it is, dusted down and elongated out, the rapidly written, by the technical director, not the script writer who had spent somewhat longer in the “hoarse and hound” and was thereby unable to talk, stand or wake at the time that the script needed? To be written.
The storey so far.
The laundrette contains both washing machines and tumble dryers which can be used, for washing and drying clothes respectively, especially socks, white socks, but only if the correct coinage is inserted into the appropriate slots on the machine at the correct time.
Leaves are leaves.
Leaves may be flitty flirting or floating about near the iron iron gates, which brings us to.
There is a park.
The gates to the park, which may or may not be near the leaves floating about, are iron, iron iron gates is essentially therefore what these gates are.
Shoelaces are not essential but useful.
The dusty dustbins, garbage cans, bins, trashcans, call them what you will they most certainly, well, probably are.
They are to be more precise near the iron iron gates.
They may or may not be, oh heck yes they are; obscuring the view of the leaves if indeed the leaves are still there.
They do, to a certain degree not yet established within the boundaries of the current goings on, partly or otherwise disturb the view of the iron iron gates from certain points within the boundary of the park to which we have previously referenced, and to which the iron gates define at least one, and most probably no more than one boundary of that park to which we do, several times throughout the following most probably refer.
Sentences end with a full stop, but the point at which they do this is largely determined by the point in time in which, during writing the glass containing various alcoholic fermented substances is required to be refilled due to it obtaining a state of being in which it no longer contains that which it previously contained.
The sheep were squirrels in disguise.
The acorn may have been a red herring.
This red herring::
>>>>>><<<<<<<<
is a red herring in all but one respect.
It was a branch.
Finger and leg and arm elongation is a prerequisite for detectives from the metropolitan police force who have just woken after falling unconscious.
The man with white socks has seemingly vanished.
The acorn has just turned out to be a football, not an acorn.
It may, at some point, become apparent that the football, previously thought to be an acorn, is indeed, actually not a football.
The windy wind, if it was ever relevant, has currently diminished in importance from the storey&#8230;

And so::
We find our hero? Unconscious on the bench in the park, with a foot ball that was previously thought to be an acorn, but which may as yet still eventually turn out not to be a foot ball.
A woman, who is most probably the first female character in this storey, is standing in front of the unconscious detective, and is currently rummaging through his pockets and finding his wallet has placed a quantity of moneys inside, and also some loose change in his trouser pockets.
A squirrel, number 17 to be precise is in a nearby tree watching with an evil grin the proceedings proceeding before it in the park.
The leaves continue to fly about floating flirting and frazzling behind the bins, before the iron iron gates that forms at least one boundary of the park.
The detective begins to awaken::

As t he detective awakens, he comes aware of the presence of the woman, and eventually the detective sits up on the bench, desperately in need of a good elongation&#8230;
&#8220;hello&#8221; says the Detective.
&#8220;yeah, hi to you also&#8221; replies the woman &#8220;My name is ?Espresso, I am your guide for the day, would you like me to help you Elongate?&#8221;
&#8220;erm, my guide?&#8221; stutters the Detective. &#8220;Erm, yes I would love you to help me elongate&#8221;
The detective tentatively gets to his feet and proffers his left hand to Espresso.
Espresso tenderly takes the detective&#8217;s forefinger on his left hand which he is bashfully proffering to her, and taking a firm hold pulls the finger..
&#8220;aggahahahahahaghahaghaghaghaghaghaghaghaghaghaghghgaha!&#8221; Screams the detective involuntarily as his forefinger, of his left hand, reaches a length of elongation which the Detective not to mention Espresso herself had never, ever imagined possible, and which, quite possibly is a level of elongation not entirely conducible or conducive to quintessentially correct left-hand forefinger functioning.
&#8220;wow, how can I ever thank you&#8221; says the Detective.
The Detective shall shortly scream again..
The Detective then screams again, as Espresso&#8217;s agility becomes blatantly apparent, she swiftly grips the finger, on the Detectives left hand immediately next to the now extraordinarily elongated forefinger of the very same hand, and pulls with a might of a thousand finger pulling experiences in the midst&#8217;s of time irreverent.
&#8220;aghaaghaghaghaghaghaghaghaghaghagh&#8221; Or, something rather similar to, screams the Detective, as under the agility and strength of the mighty woman Espresso, the Detectives finger on his left hand immediately next to the previously elongated forefinger of his left hand, also reaches a level of elongation never before experienced by the people of such a mortal existence, and which, quite probably is now as we watch, destined to take the place of the Mud shark in urban history and mythology as a new secular invitation to a experience of the devout, or at least the ridiculous..
The Detective eyes espresso, the woman standing before him grinning widely with an new-found worry and apprehension, which the Detective had only recently ever found possible and experienced something close to as a consequence of recently experienced events associated with the worry and indeed concern regarding iron iron gates, leaves dusty bins, acorns, elongated sandwiches, branches, trees sheep that are squirrels and a man with rather white, freshly washed socks.
The Detective adopts a unnatural, for one so clearly immune in a manner of speaking to unbelievable events,
Glazed expression as he remembers and mulls the events of recent days, the iron iron gates through which he had passed with an air of purpose for what he know longer remembers.
But, rather cunningly, it is at this moment he remembers the squirrel, in the nearby tree, but as the Detective looks to the tree to attempt to identify the presence or not of the afore mentioned squirrel, Espresso grabs the opportunity, and indeed also the Detectives finger next to the previously elongated finger which was immediately next to the Detectives forefinger on his left-hand.
Espresso pulls with an inner strength bestowed on so few people in these post-modernistic trans-neoclassic, over-hedonistic, inter-passionless, less-inopportunity-providing and pain-ridden times.
The Detective, again, in what may otherwise, and elsewhere be seen as repetitive feature, Screams loudly again, unknowingly shattering a small brandy glass on a seventh floor window sill of a nearby block of flats.
&#8220;Ahgh!&#8221; Is an less-than-accurate interpretation of the sound, which, aside from issuing fourth from the beleaguered Detective apon the newest demonstration of truly terrifying elongation strength by Espresso, is responsible, as mentioned above for the previously mentioned shattering of a small Brandy glass.
It should at this point, if indeed not earlier so, be established in a rather firm yet acetic way, that the Brandy glass was empty, well, why would a partly, or indeed completely full brandy glass be doing on a window sill seven floors up?
Espresso is so pleased with her efforts of finger elongation on the Detective, as can be seen by her increasingly wide grin and slightly hysteric look, that she adopts the never before tried but much speculated on( in urban myth that is, at least) technique of two-handed finger-elongation!
Before the Detective has recovered from the elongation of his finger next to the previously elongated finger next to his forefinger on his left hand, Espresso simultaneously grips his little finger and thumb on the very same, some could quip one and only, Detective&#8217;s left hand.
The Detective screams with an astonishing outflow of air as this newly attempted, and achieved technique of double handed finger elongation, being performed by Espresso elongates both the detective&#8217;s little finger and thumb of his left hand.
The Detective wipes some sweat off his forehead with his right hand and stares down, in disbelief at his left hand.
&#8220;neat, but what the heck am I going to do with fingers that are about three foot long?&#8221; asks the Detective of Espresso, looking up from his hand to make eye contact with the woman Espresso.
&#8220;pick a bluddy big nose!&#8221; says Espresso and fortuitously picks this very moment to accidentally fall through a gap in two atoms forming the cell wall cellulose of a blade of grass laying beneath her feet.
Espresso disappears,

Espresso then reappears in a similar rift between two nearby atoms in the branch of the tree immediately near the Detective.
Espresso falls to the ground, but luckily lands on her feet, and takes the opportunity, such that it is, which isn&#8217;t to say that ever circumstance can be viewed as having some form of opportunity, and she, Espresso that is, rapidly grabs the Thumb of the Detective&#8217;s right and elongates..
And elongates..
And elongates..
And, guess what, yes:
Elongates..
Until the Detective&#8217;s right thumb, to the accompanying sounds of another curdling scream issuing forth from the Detective reaches a level of elongation hitherto unknown by the people of this area, but which, as stated, or at least mentioned above, a level of elongation which will soon replace the mud shark in urban mythology as the structural basis of a developmental wave of riotous pondering.
And the Detective quivers, staggers slightly, but, with a mainly pleased look, regards both his newly elongated right-hand thumb, and the thumb and all the fingers previously elongated by Espresso on his left hand..
Then, in an moment of supreme pleasure, Espresso again uses the two handed two finger elongation method to elongate both the Detective&#8217;s forefinger and the finger next to his forefinger, on his right hand.
Wow,
Is all, or at least part, so therefore most probably, some would say defiantly response to such an exciting repeat of Espresso&#8217;s earlier exploits.
Firmly gripping the Detective&#8217;s forefinger with her right hand, and the finger next to the detective&#8217;s right-hand forefinger with her left hand, Espresso elongates,
And elongates,
And, go figure? Elongates both fingers at the same time until they also reach a crucially excessive level of elongation.
And before the consequent scream from the Detective has whispered its last over the grass and gardens and dusty bins and iron iron gates, and flirty leaves and trees and discarded acorns, Espresso swiftly lets go of the Detective&#8217;s forefinger and the finger next the forefinger, of the Detectives right hand, and quickly takes a firm hold on his little finger and one remaining finger between the elongated finger next to the forefinger and the little finger of the Detectives Right hand.
And again she espresso that is, elongates the Detectives fingers.
Until, after some time the Detectives fingers are all fully elongated, to a state of elongation never previously thought possible by anyone dull or mad enough to contemplate finger elongation, which, should be mentioned is probably such a mind numbingly small number of people as to be totally insignificant and consequently not even worth mentioning in this context.
Oh dear, they just were mentioned, so that messes that sentence up&#8230;.
Looking up from the elongated fingers, the Detectives and Espresso&#8217;s eyes meet, and an air of ecstatic dynamic electricity develops between the two, until their mutual gaze is broken off and distracted by the site of the acorn/football.
&#8220;of course you now know it is not a acorn don&#8217;t you?&#8221; Asks Espresso of the Detective, idly stroking her buttocks..
&#8220;yes, the man with white socks has been and bestowed onions on the peoples of bronze balls&#8221; Replies the Detective.
&#8220;good&#8221; Says Espresso, anciently gripping her crotch &#8220;Well, we must now move proceedings&#8230;&#8221;
&#8220;yes&#8221; says the Detective, reaching into his trouser pocket, and after some struggle with his extraordinarily long fingers pulls forth a elastic band, and pings it at Espresso.
&#8220;the black swan floats upside down in a pond near the deserted church&#8221; says Espresso, thrusting her hand into the soft earth
&#8220;the swan floats upside down because the water is the mud sharks destiny&#8221; Replies the Detective hopping on his left leg.
&#8220;good&#8221; replies Espresso, and hands the Detective a envelope, sealed, and excitingly? Full with paper sheets.
Espresso leaves the park, pausing only to put a paper hat
on the Detectives head and balance an apple on his foot.
and the Detective, in a state of partial elongation is left again, standing alone in the park, looking around madly for the vanished Espresso, but valiantly examining the letter, the apple, and the small whole hole left in the ground by Espressos hand.
The Detective stands and deliberates.
He deliberates further.
He deliberates some more.
The deliberation continues ad the Detective stands, and he takes a deep, deep breath, holds the air, and then exhales.
He takes another deep breath, and again holds it: and time passes:
one second;
two seconds;
three seconds;
four seconds;
Five seconds;
Six Seconds;
Seven seconds;
Eight seconds;
Nine seconds;
Ten seconds;
Eleven seconds;
Twelve seconds;
Thirteen seconds;
Fourteen seconds;
Fifteen Seconds;
Sixteen seconds;
Seventeen seconds;
Eighteen seconds;
Nineteen seconds;
Twenty seconds;
Twenty-one seconds;

And he continues to hold his breath::
Half a minute;
One minute;
One minute and a half;
Two minutes;
Two minutes and a half;
Three minutes;
Three minutes and a half;
Four minutes;
Five minutes;
Five minutes and thirty seconds:
He almost passes out due to lack of oxygen, and as he swiftly draws in another breath, he falls slightly, dropping the apple off his foot, retaining his grip on the letter, but the party hat drops down his face and covers his eyes:
The detective lays on the ground, madly trying to figure out why it has all gone dark&#8230;
He removes the party hat from his eyes, and removing his rucksack off his back, quickly erects a tent and climbs in&#8230;
Within minutes, and with his extraordinarily elongated fingers only protruding out of the tent very slightly, the Detective is sound asleep, unaware of all that is occurring outside the tent, well, no more so than when he was aware, abut with, perhaps, more of an excuses to not noticing anything that is happening, less so for understanding, or rather, maybe that should be, not understanding&#8230;

And so, on a rather dull note, and therefore in keeping with previous episodes and the plot? In general, ends this exciting, elongated episode, which was sponsored by the &#8220;sheep lie&#8221; conglomerate, and was written and researched by someone,
We just can&#8217;t remember who&#8230;.
Tune in and fall out next time for another exciting? Elongated, certainly, episode in the increasingly inaccurately named hot air ballooning romp&#8230;

*after an elongated break in applause, the applause begins again*

Brilliant!!

¦M¦

: sorry it took me so long to post up... I kept hitting the button on my space, but always got interupted by other more recent conversations and never got back far enough to re-find this one but I made a concerted effort last time and the next episode is already about 700 words long... so probably almost a half/third way through being finished... i think that was the longest one so far though... wonder if i should print them out and send off to a publisher? naa: i'll stick to the day job... oh, i don't have a job *elongates grin...

Hey, that's OK. And Yay! another episode on it's way!
And I think you should send it to some publishers, just to see ther reaction.

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and if i sent it to a publisher, and they read it, how likely would it be that they call the men in white coats to take me back to the funny farm well, the next one, is going to be shorter than the last, and is about half way through, might be up this weekend... Maybe depends what happens on my writing my thesis thing...
*Elongates grin even further...

Oh pah, they'd just have their fears about an insane world confirmed.
And Yay!!
*also elongates grin*

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better late than never? right?

::
::
::
And, yet again,
and here again, wow, this is just so dull&#8230;
Its another exciting episode&#8230;
Oh, why do we even bother trying to build up for what is inevitably going to be a rather bizarre, elongated dull episode of the Cryptic Detective&#8230;?
Well no problem: here it is the next dullsome, elongated episode of the Detectives pants&#8230;
So far:
Iron gates are made of iron.
Leaves are well, leaves (-probably).
The dustbins are probably, but not necessarily dusty.
The woman is called Espresso.
The man with white socks has white socks.
The party hat may, or may not, be red.
The squirrels have played a football match.
The branch is most probably forgotten about.
Sheep are squirrels.
And the park bench is a place in the park where people can sit and bizarre happenings, well, happen.

And so we return, to the Detective laying asleep within a tent, with his elongated fingers protruding slightly from under the door of the tent.
A squirrel is licking his protruding fingers.
And the detective begins to stir.
Meanwhile the Brandy glass is still shattered in pieces over the surrounding air of the window ledge.
The shattered bits of Brandy glass quiver slightly and reassemble themselves into a miniature, clear glass model of a pony.
The glass pony falls to the ground, but luckily misses, and hovering inches above a hat stretches and descends more slowly, past the hat, the head on which the hat is perched and so completely unnoticed past the man wearing the head, and therefore the hat, and also the other twenty or so people walking past the building which contained the brandy glass on the window ledge.
Once on the ground, the pony, the glass pony, constructed from the shattered remains of the brandy glass proceeds to wonder down the sidewalk, in the general, but not necessarily peculiarly singularly direction of the iron gates, and therefore to all the mystery and intrigue and cucumber sandwiches which reside within the realms of dusty bins, park benches iron iron gates, leaves branches squirrels, and a nice, really freshly made pot of hot tea.
Suddenly
Back in the park
Utterly unaware of that which has just been recounted as occurring outside the realm of the park itself, yet again within the park,
as if from nowhere (well, yes from nowhere, but this is the really exciting unexpected part of the episode, give the author some artistic peace?).
A flash flood passes through the park, removing the tent, and leaving the Detective sitting on a newly appeared tree stump.
The Detective is slightly worried by this and faints, only to recover consciousness a few seconds later as he feels the Squirrel licking his fingers&#8230;
Espresso, walking with a man with incredibly white socks enter the park and begin to walk, past the iron iron gates, through the floating flirting leaves, the dusty bins and the park bench to where the Detective sits, eyeing the squirrel with scant disbelief on a irrational tree stump.
The squirrel, seeing Espresso immediately springs into action, opens the tree stump and begins making tea.
By the time Espresso and the man with white socks have walked up to where the Detective is stubbornly slumped, the squirrel has layered out the Tea pot, some biscuits and a set of rather nice bone china tea cups.
Espresso opens her handbag and pulls out a table and chairs and they all, including the Detective, squirrel and man with white socks, sit down at the table and begin drinking tea.
It is at this point that the Gazelle arrives...
The gazelle erroneously appearing from behind the forgotten branch, doesn&#8217;t notice the glass pony, which has uncomfortably entered the park and which stands to the side of where the group are seated drinking tea from fine bone china cups at the table so elegantly extracted from Espresso&#8217;s handbag.
The glass pony chews a tuft of grass, and the gazelle hums quietly to itself, the squirrel being the only member of the gathered which seems to notice, whilst ignoring at the current time, the two newest arrivals.
Espresso takes one of the biscuits from the plate on the table, and stuffs it into the man with incredibly white sock&#8217;s left ear.
The man with incredibly white socks laughs heartedly at a joke from the Detective regarding the spatial orientation of pineapples on a supermarket shelf in Wolverhampton and fails to notice the biscuit.
The park warden idly sweeps up a few of the leaves by the iron gate, and a shoe falls off a shoe stand outside a shoe shop approximately one mile away on an insignificant but yet somehow entirely unrelated side street.
Espresso takes the acorn, which is probably also not an football and opens it. From within a small oval crystal clear object is taken and placed onto the middle of the table, which causes both the gazelle and the glass pony to fidget nervously, the man with white socks removes his shoes and takes one of his incredibly white socks, placing it on the table next to the oval clear thing..
The squirrel talks
&#8220;anybody know what the bark we are doing here?&#8221; it asks, and receives a reply shockingly from the pony&#8230;
&#8220;good now we are all here, can I&#8221;&#8230; replies the pony, unexpectedly absorbing the shoe that fell off a shoe stand some distance away, the dusty bins and the park warden..
Espresso, the man with incredibly white socks and the Detective are all entirely unaware of this, not hearing the glass pony which is too inexplicable for even such a gathering as this to notice in the evening light of the park.
The glass oval clear thing absorbs the sock, and the table disappears, leaving the tea pot, the bone china cups, and the remaining biscuits on the plate hovering motionless in midair.
The gazelle sniffs the glass pony, and the Detective idly looks at his incredibly elongated fingers.
Espresso then gently leans over and punches the detective, having the combined result of causing the Gazelle to sharply leap two foot into the air, and missing the Detective entirely, as her hand passes silently through his head and catches the gazelle, as previously established entirely unaware.
The Detective stands, disgusted at a blade of grass pointing in the wrong direction, and says his goodbyes, heading back off towards the park bench..
At the park bench, the Detective looks back to the iron gates, and is surprised to notice the dusty bins are absent, little does he understand the absorption of them by the glass pony.
He scrunches his notebook and attempts to see the leaves, and is pleased to notice that he no has a clearer view of them.
He turns, and looks further down the path in the opposite direction away from the gates, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, and sighs, until he is unwittingly reassured that an adequate state of sigh elongatedness has been achieved, he looks back to the spot where espresso, the squirrel and the gazelle and unseen glass pony previously were, and is not at all surprised to notice Espresso sinking slowly into the ground, whilst the man with incredibly white socks, frantically searches for his missing white sock.
The glass pony burps, and produces forth the park warden, the dusty bins, and surprisingly, the missing white sock.
The man, with his full compliment of amazingly white socks, ignores the park keeper, the glass pony and espresso, who isn&#8217;t there anymore, and thanks the gazelle before folding up and wafting through the evening air.
The detective shrugs, and attempts to scratch his forehead, but, due to his amazingly elongated fingers only succeeds in knocking a twitcher out of the tree above him.
He fails to notice this, and stepping over the bird-watcher with the broken leg, attempts to move further off down the path.
He lifts his left leg, raising it up from the ground, and then, strenuously and stretchingly, moves it forward, to replace it on the ground, eighteen inches from where it originally started.
This achieved, and in a state of morose pleasure, he proceeds to raise and lift his other leg, which, once raised to the correct point is moved forward through the air buzzing with something, and then it, like his other foot before is placed on the ground again, some eighteen inches from where it began its arduous journey.
Meanwhile, the glass oval thing is left wondering how the white sock appeared from the glass pony, when it was the glass oval thing that had absorbed, and in fact still contains the white sock in question&#8230;
The glass oval thing absorbs the other white sock, and then entirely satisfied that it does have the sock in question, and which it both desires and needs, explodes.
The Detective, as will come as no surprise is entirely unaware of this, struggling as he is with raising his foot, moving it forward through the air and replacing it on the ground, some distance further forward from that a t which it was originally lifted from..
The Detective continues to walk, and the socks, the white socks, freed from both the feet that had previously worn them, and the glass oval thing that had, till recently contained them, begin following the Detective..
The Detective, chooses this moment to turn around, and to look back, to where, some 10n yards behind him the park bench, his haunt for some time previously stands, casting slight shadows over the path, and beyond which is the now, hardly visible iron iron gates, and the marauding figures of the dusty bins.
The detective notices the pair of white socks walking towards him, and steps back in shock, falling into the boating lake which is now standing beside, but, which, till he hits the waters surface, he has been blissfully, some would say incredulously unaware of&#8230;
As the Detective sinks to the bottom of the boating lake he thankfully looses consciousness, and incredulously, even after falling into the pond, does not notice its presence, but as he sinks, in a rather gruesome turn of events, he pulls a frown of unparallel insignificance..
Has the Detective finally sunk?
Will the socks meet their maker, creator, or previous owner?
Will Espresso feature again?
Are the dusty bins really still near the iron iron gates, and will the park keeper sweep up the leaves nearby the dusty bins and iron iron gates?
Where have the squirrels gone, and who will clean up the china tea cups?
Did anyone notice the one biscuit still left on the plate, or wonder on the whereabouts of the glass pony, the gazelle or why the glass oval thing exploded?
Do the pair of white socks hold a valid health and safety certificate? Can they save the Detective, what from indeed could they save the detective, unless himself?
Will the bird watcher, or twitcher who fell out of the tree ever feature again? Or will he remain on the floor, in the park with broken legs and eventually just die?
Tune in next time, for a thoroughly huge waste of everyone&#8217;s time&#8230;
Or maybe not?
Oh, the suspense is killing me&#8230;

*attempts to elongate the applause even more*
Brilliant!!

¦M¦

*elongates grin even more... Might be able to get another installment soonish, by hmm, some time... but I'm not goinmg to be on as much post the 20 december, as I'm off back to my Fathers, and therefore loosing my 24 hour fast internet connection at university... so it might end up being a case of still getting them.. but Hmm, maybe less often though I'll see what i can do

Ooh! Well, OK. *sigh* Don't let this get in the way of anything more important though.

¦M¦

anything more important than this? actually its a nice distraction from writting my thesis sometimes

Oh good!

¦M¦

Hmmm, might be a while before another installment though but there will be one...

another elongated one?