A Conversation for The Return of H2G2 Story Time


Post 1

Clive the flying ostrich: Amateur Polymath | Chief Heretic.


Post 2

ex-Rambling. Thingite. Dog. Pythonist. Deceased.

Guy looked up as Nurse Bertha walked in. A fat woman with stiff movements, she wore her heavy makeup heavily. The ruffles at her collar and the bright flower on her lapel softened the effect, however; He found her presence soothing. She carried the oil over to guy's bedside and began to message her charge.
Tapping the toe of one large, flat shoe, she hummed a soothing ditty as she pounded away on the prostrate guy, who was so busy relaxing he failed to notice the foul, noxious-smelling, vile yellow smoke pouring out of the bottle of message oil.


Post 3

Clive the flying ostrich: Amateur Polymath | Chief Heretic.

While X went to the lobby for a coke

Arthur knocked on the nurses station. The door swung quietly open under his genteel rapping.

He peered inside at the pristine and clean surfaces littered with anitseptic wipes and disposable surgical gloves. The electric strip bulb hummed overhead. The room was empty except for one cupboard stuck awkwardly ajar.

Arhtur, a fastiduously tidy person, couldn't resist and snuck inside to push it too, then stopped.

"oh dear.." he said.



Post 4

Ek* this space intentionally left blank *ki

... he saw something that was so horrendous it made his heart skip a beat, something so horrendous that to even contemplate describing it here would relinquish this story's PG Certificate.

Grimmacing, Arthur pushed the door to, concealing what was behind it from the unsuspecting eye. As he turned back to face the room through which he had just walked (in an overtly unsexual way I hasten to add), out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed the bridge of his nose. Time was short, and at 4:45 it was nearing quarter to 5 ... time to get going he thought.


Post 5

ex-Rambling. Thingite. Dog. Pythonist. Deceased.

Arthur gasped in horror as he realised that Nurse Bertha, the one he had just left messaging Guy, was lying, bound and gagged, on the floor of the nurse's station. Beside her was a discarded clown's outfit and an empty bottle with several smiley - skulls on it.
He gasped again as he got a glimpse of her iron-clad nickers.
OOO! Iron-clad nickers! he thought, smiling. They always did something for him.
Shuddering, he wondered if he should apply mouth-to-mouth to resuscitate her. If he did so, he might be too late to save Guy!
She looked up pleadingly. "Mphhgle fPH!" she said, helplessly. She so clearly needed to be resuscitated, poor girl.
Arthur looked around the hallway, uncertain what to do. No one was there to advise him...no one at all...
Only 15 minutes to make up his mind...


Post 6

Clive the flying ostrich: Amateur Polymath | Chief Heretic.

At that moment X walked in.

"They were out of coke so I got fanta instead - err....why have you got that nurse gagged and bound..he-he-...Arthur ol' buddy?" said X, backing away slowly.

Arthur, ignoring this minor slur on his good character, appraised X of the current situation "THE CLOWZ - ONE OF THEM'S IN THERE WITH GUY!", frantically pointing at the frosted glass across the hallway.

Meanwhile X was pointedly examining the squeky red nose and over-sized spotty trousers that had been discarded in the corner, he was eyeing Arthur suspiciously.

"LOOK WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS - COUGH SYRUP?!!", howled Arthur scooping up the tripple smiley - skullsmiley - skullsmiley - skull poison and waving it in front of X.
Arhtur calmed down a litle. "Listen that nurse we passed by coming out of the ward with Guy, did anything strike you as odd about her?"

Well a little bit..stiff, like one of those infernal mime artists doing that... thing, y'know", said X waving his arms up and down in a frantic chopping motion like some derranged karate expert.

"Anything else?" probed arthur gentley on X's, what can only be described as 'tenuous', grip on reality.

"flat feet. Poor dear must have fallen arches or something she was wearing those over-sized orthapoedic slippers, damn near sent my head first into that plant pot..orrr....OH MY GOD!!

"Yes?" said Arthur leaning forward.

"the ..um...clown..is ..err....is...err...Guy.....clown is in there *with* Guy?"

Arthur nodded.

They both then ran across the corridor and into the ward.....


Post 7


Meanwhile, upstairs in the office part of the hospital which normal patients never get to see, five men and women in immaculate business clothing were sitting regarding a very large computer screen.

"But it was all going so well! Completely according to plan!" Said one of them, disconsolately.
"It will still work. You must all just do as I say, though. No more arguments... we all need to add our authorisation, and then our plan can succeed" Said a woman, evidently the leader.
"But.... I've heard they're in the hospital, even now. What if they try to stop us?"
"They can't. Ha. Ha. Hahahahaha!!"

Back on the ward....


Post 8


X and Arthur's brains were struggling valiantly to cope with the horrific scene before them.

Half a dozen Clownz, surgical masks barely concealing their bulbous red noses, were milling around Guy on a guerney. Or at least they were trying to mill. Oversized clown shoes do not make the business of milling an easy one.

A rather large Clown nurse with striped bloomers handed the Clown Surgeon a hammer and stonemason's chisel. X then looked beyond the tray of surgical instruments and saw a bowl with what looked like Clown wig, ready for transplantation.

Agent X decided on a course of action and...


Post 9

ex-Rambling. Thingite. Dog. Pythonist. Deceased.

...propmtly passed out, from shock that he could ever decide anything. Arthur took over! In a flash of brilliance he took a huge...


Post 10

Clive the flying ostrich: Amateur Polymath | Chief Heretic.

Defribrilator trolly.

"GUY!", he shouted. - "CATCH!"

Guy looked up from his reverie

Arthur threw on of the de-fribrilator pads to Guy who reached up and caught it.

"shock her!" screamed Arthur.

Guy noticed the wild look in his Agents eyes, instinctivly sensing danger he pressed the button.

There was a flash and a sound like "Schlockk!" and the robot catapaulted backwards onto the far-side of the room, thick oily smoke began pouring from it's head and it began to thrash in a fit shortcircuits.

One of the Clownz turned and bore down on Arthur.
He ducked down and it's massive fist arced overhead connecting with the wall.

The robot pulled it's fist out from the gaping wound in the plaster and spun round - it's firey red LED's flamed at Arthur.

Arthur was meanwhile dealing with the other clownz, using the prostrate body of X to gain some extra height he jumped and ripped the curtain rail from it's slider round the bed and threw it over the heads of the other clown nurses, who began to pitch and turn randomly unable to see where they were going.

"Arthur, look out!" cried Guy, reaching over he grabbed the bottle with the skulls on and threw it at the murderous form of the killer nurse. The bottle smashed, spilling it's lethal acid all over the robot, which promptly melted. the right-hand Big Slipper twitched unnearvingly.

Arthur turned around, slowly. Carfully he gave it an experimental prod the remaining hulk was fizzing silently as the acid went to work, the occasion pop or spark issued from where it's head had been and then the whole thing fell backwards rather pathetically.

Just then Bob, Jill and the others came back in.

"Right we off to - oh." stopped Bob

"What happened?" asked Jill mouth agape.

"oh not much." said Arthur dissmissivly, wiping a bit of axle grease from his lapel. "Well I'm going finally - you can...you can deal with - *this* " he decided, gesturing to the scene of carnage and destruction behind him.
He walked across the room and dragged X out of the ward by the sleeve of his jacket....


Post 11

ex-Rambling. Thingite. Dog. Pythonist. Deceased.

smiley - bigeyessmiley - whistlesmiley - whistle


Post 12

Clive the flying ostrich: Amateur Polymath | Chief Heretic.

Bob approached Guy's bedside. "Lucky escape for you there." he said, non commitally.

"Indeed this is not the first time I owe my life to Arthur" replied Guy thoughtfully.

Gonzaroolio gave the acid-eaten husk of the clown a contemptuous little kick, "Seems to me, like you may have a problem." he said. "I don't know how the clownz found you as quickly as they did, but you are clearly a target."

Guy nodded in solemn agreement. "I'll make the necessary arrangements to be shipped back to the Agency."
"I want you to pay a visit to this Mr Smittington on Barn Street, see what you can get out of him..."

Outside the hospital, out beyond the car park there cruised a limousene. Inside there sat the 5 shadowy figures from earlier. The leader closed her laptop with a decisive snap.

"A minor setback." she suggested.

The others looked to each other. "Yes, mistress." they replied in unison.

"Still, we know the name of their next target." she said.

"We will need a search running." replied one of the figures

"It has already begun." said another.


Post 13

ex-Rambling. Thingite. Dog. Pythonist. Deceased.

Meanwhile, in the nurses' station....
"mfgMMPPHHGGG!" said Bertha.

And up in the board room, the woman executive, staring at the helpless nurse, formed an evil plan in her mind. Flipping on the intercom, she whispered "So, they just left you there, did they? Those ingrates! They left you, all alone and helpless,after all you did for them!" Her voice, soothing and dripping with sympathy, filtered through the nurse's panic and Bertha realised with shock that it was true! They had abandoned her! After all her kindness, all her gentle bathes and backrubs, all those shots...well, nevermind those,...how ungrateful and cruel!
Smiling, the executive sent someone to untie the nurse, so that the brainwashing could commense! With any luck, she could be primed to kill by the end of the next two posts.


Post 14

ex-Rambling. Thingite. Dog. Pythonist. Deceased.

oops! I mean from the backseat of the limousine, via satallite phone and camera, the woman...


Post 15

Clive the flying ostrich: Amateur Polymath | Chief Heretic.

smiley - laugh


the maddened cackle drifted down from the corridor. Bob stuck his head outside to see what was going on and nearly beheaded by Nurse Bertha weilding a mop.

He scrabbled inside and reached for the defribrillator pads again.
Bertha unplugged it at the socket with one deft flick of her mop handle.

Jill and Gonzaroolio tried to take the mop from her but were driven back by her frenzied swinging. Heddingly was nowhere to be seen.
Guy tried to effect some kind of attack as well but groaned and fell back to his pillows.

Bob was helpless, completly at Bertha's mercy.
She stood tall and bore the mop aloft like some magnificent trophy issuing forth a Valkarie attack yodel:
"Aaaaaiiiyayayayayayayeeeyiyeyiyeieyyiei!!!!" - lowered the mop and charged

Heddingly sprung up from behind Bertha and reached out to deliver the Vulcan Death Grip.
Bertha crumpled with a small, happy, sigh.

The mop clattered to the floor.

"What is going on?" shouted Bob. Leicester died on the island, right? only now our every move is being dogged by evil and malignant forces bent on delaying us from leaving this hospital."

"Your right Bob", moaned guy a bit breathlessly " you need to get out of her quickly - her use my special 4 X 4. The Agency's 'Special Weapons" division has upgraded it with suitable refinements. I think you'll find it more than reasonable." and threw him the keys.

They traced a graceful arc through the air, intercepted by Jill tracing a less graceful arc through the air in the opposite direction.
reaching out she caught the keys before they even touched the floor and landed with cat-like prowess.

"YES" she exclaimed. "I'm driving!" as she sprinted towards the car-park.

"I'm riding shotgun!" cried Heddingly running after her hotly followed by Gonzaroolio.

bob was left standing expecant palm outstretched."Hey - wait!, come back here. hey - Guys! I want to drive the secret agent car...come back!!!" whined Bob as her shuffled after them.

Guy leant over the rails of his bed and peered down upon the unconcious form of nurse Bertha.

"Brainwashing? hmm..."


Post 16


The shadowy lady (who's name was Annabel, in fact, even back in her primary school days, when attempting to take over the world was nothing but a childish daydream, she was nicknamed Annabel the Angry, because she was always in fights) sighed. "You just can't get good quality evil henchpeople anymore."
She tapped into a panel on the wall, which immediately dissapeared to reveal another panel, this time with a small lcd screen embedded in it. "And now they actually think they're going to get away. I pity these people, fighting for good, its all so pointless... " she muttered, tapping the screen three times.

Out in the car park, a big wrought iron gate noiselessly started swinging shut...


Post 17

ex-Rambling. Thingite. Dog. Pythonist. Deceased.

Annabel's car phone buzzed and she nervously picked it up. holding it to her ear, she turned a whiter shade of pale as a hated voice, from out of her tortured past, assailed Annabel, atrociously associated as it was with awful Airhead Alternative Education Institute, her Alma Mata, and the scene of childhood trauma. "Are you still P***ed off, Annabel?" the guidance counsellor's voice grated ingratiatingly?
So many hours had Annabel been forced to sit in his airy office, with the sad smiley - clown paintings and the hippie music in the background, during anger management class, while he tried to help her find the source of her anger. All she'd ever wanted was to rule the smiley - earth, and instead of helping her to achieve this simple little dream, he'd tried to force her to embrace the world, not dominate it.
She didn't want to find her true center!"
"No!" she screamed, and the snivelling wretch on the other end of the line responded by assailing her with a smiley - zen "thought for the day".
"Why do you continue to torment me!?."
"Just wanted to let my little snuggle-bunny know that we love her." said Dad, and hung up.
"That does it!" she thought to herself, slamming down the phone, as soon as I take over the smiley - earth he will be the first one up against the wall. The thought soothed her, and Annabel sat back, in smiley - devilsmiley - zen as the car pulled out of the gates.


Post 18

Clive the flying ostrich: Amateur Polymath | Chief Heretic.

Meanwhile down in the subterranian car-park.

Jill and the others were preparing to leave in Guy's 4X4.

It was a monster of a machine, oil-slick black, caught in the right light new colours seemed to glisten on it's surface just out of sight. Jill gave it a quick look over. It felt glassy to her touch. Bullet proof probably, she speculated.

"I say!", said Heddingly, really piling on the upper-class accent - he begin fitting a small monocle into his left eye, "that's quite a beast isn't it?"

"Oh yeah!" said Jill grining so wide it threatened to remove everything above her ears.

"I don't know.." said Gonzaroolio a little uncertainly." I got this feeling y'know like this...car...isn't right." he petered out "like it's too powerful..." he finished weakly.

The car sat their radiating an aura of confident and quiet menace.

Jill stood up from her brief examination of the under-carriage she thought Gonzaroolio had a point. There seemed to be more pipes and things than were strictly necessary down there. She suspected that this thing's closest relative on the family tree of cars, weighed about 30 tonnes and had tracks. The word "turret" floated, unbidden into her mind." Shaking her head she turned the keys in the lock.

The keys snatched out of her hand and began turning anti-clockwise. A computerised voice soke:


"Agent XXX" said Jill, "Passcode: P13X #Blue"


The wing-mirror glowed as Jill knealt down. A series of thin red lines danced across her face.


There was a click as the locks sprung open.

Jill slid in behind the wheel. Gonzaroolio at opposite, Gonzaroolio sat plumply on the back seat, swinging his little legs over the side of the seat.

Bob slid in behing Heddingly.

"Start." ordered Jill.

There was a shudder the dashboard lit up and the engine growled into life and revved itself a few times.

"GOOD MORNING AGENT XXX" said the computer. "WHERE IS GUY?"

"He's ill, he's given us the keys, were going on a mission."


"The bakery on Barn street."


The Gear stick moved of it's own accord as the Agency moved out of the car park and up the ramp.

""wow!" Said Bob leaning over to gonzaroolio, "a talking computer!"

"Yeh!" agreed the clown hoarsely, "The only car I ever had, the doors kept falling off whenever you tried to drive it. That's some impressive calculator!"


"Well I for one aren't going to go around calling you all of that all the time - do you have a name?" asked Bob, a trace indignantly.


"That would be nice Al."

The rover crested the ridge of the last ramp to the straining waltz of "The Blue Danube" by Johann Strauss.


Post 19

ex-Rambling. Thingite. Dog. Pythonist. Deceased.

Jill scowled at the dashboard. "Um, could we go a little faster, do you think?" the vehicle crawled along at a snail's pace, and she had been looking forward to a wild ride.
Al's circuits glowed in disapproval. "What, and braek the posted speed limit? I rather like this speed, thank you. It goes with the music, lovely and calm."
Grinning, Jill slipped a copy of the flight of the bumblebees into the tapedeck. Al gasped, lurched forward and whipped around the corner, then came to a screeching halt. Smoke rose from the abused tires."We're here, already!"
Jill looked around, and realised that they were, indeed at the bakery. "Heh, heh, we were just around the corner from it. Imagine that!" she said as she helped Bob remove the dashboard from his nose.
"Well, you could have asked." Al huffed.
"Hay, wait a minute!" Headly added, after putting on his neckbrace,
This isn't the place, old fellow."He tried to adjust his monacle, but it was stuck in the back of his skull. "This is Barnes Avenue."
"Oh, sorry. I thought you said..."
"No, no, i distinctly remember Jill saying..." While they argued it out, Jill hastily snatched the tape, replacing it with something a little more reasonable, like...


Post 20

Bob Gone for good read the jornal

pinky and perkeys greatest hits

Al on hering this music (and I use that term loosly you understand)

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