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

It was March already, and time for his bath in honey. "Dang!" he exclaimed. "I forgot the ants!" Muttering angrily to himself, he stepped out of the bathtub, and tracking sticky prints through the remains of his house, he walked next door to Old McDonald's Ant Farm. "Could I borrow a cup of ants, please?" he shouted over the fence. Farmer McDonald approached him, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, m'boy, mmm, my boy (!), but Hi've ad to poot dem doown. Mad Ant disease, y'know. But, instead, let me rub you down with a bit of handmade flannel that was handed down from the Lusitania just before it left for New Jersey on that fateful night."
Jason wiggled his ears and crossed his palms in front of his privates," I wouldn't want to be a bother. Instead, might you have any termites?"
The frazzled old man shook his head and clicked his wellies,"Nowt for that, either. All gone for the Christmas Pudding at the Schloss Farthingale. How about a shower from me WaterPik?"
Jason searched his memory. "I know,"he asked,"do you happen to have any stale cornflakes?"
"Nein. I haffta feed the shoat summit. How about I introduce you to me daughter and you let me watch?"
Jason edged back to his tub of honey, pulled the starting rope and sped off to...

his bedroom, leaving honey skid marks behind him as he went. He had a plan to try and get his life back on track - or at least back to just before he went down those blasted cellar steps. First he had to find one of his best friends to help him out of the literally sticky situation he presently found himself in. He began searching his room. Looking under the bed he realised that he hadn't put that "adult" literature back into daddy's room yet and made a mental note that that must be the next thing on his agenda, but only when his hands were a little less sticky otherwise the game was well and truly up. Jason reached up to a shelf where he finally found what he was looking for - his rather battered and dusty friend Winnie the Pooh. "OK Winnie" he said, holding the bear to his chest "start licking....."

... which is an interesting and unusual garment, a sort of female equivalent of the Magic Time Trousers (tm) that those Super Heros, The Goodies, used in days of yore.

Donning the Time Slip Jason twanged the elastic and instantaneously found himself transported to ...

... another stream of consciousness. 'Bugger,' he thought to himself (for there was no one with him at the time), 'I've slipped back to just after the last entry on page one.'

Now he was in a quandry, which is nothing at all like the Time Slip he'd just divested himself of; more a kind of all-in-one romper suit for grown ups but with only four holes for appendages which meant that either one of his arms, one of his legs, or his head had to remain inside the rediculous garment.

Jason decided to shake his head, just like the ant farmer. "That solves that", he mimed. "Really, this is much more convenient: I shall be able to see over crowds if I shake it like this... or look up ladies skirts if I shake it like this... Damn!" (he mimed)

His head slipped out of his sticky ape-like toes and bounced painfully off the foot of his bed. It came to a stop at the heels of a tall Frenchman, who was miming warnings about foot fetishists in a Parisian accent.

Grabbing his phrase book, Jason began to translate furiously...

and Jason found himself descending the cellar stairs, wondering what Grandad was up to and what the strange aroma was, that was wafting towards him.......

"Non, non, non...", the tall white-faced Frenchmen mimed, "What about the translations of my urgent and ver' dire warnings about foot fetishists?"

Meanwhile, at the molecular level, Jason's mitochondira were planning a revolt.
"I can't take much more of this,"said the cillia minister without portfolio. "All this bolshie flipping back and forth. What we need is a return to normalcy!"
"Viva la change! Viva la difference!," shouted the mitotic chairman of the revolution committee. "The more, the better!"
Just then Jason's autoimmune system suffered a sea change and without warning.....

....he'd changed back into that blasted silver Santa-Dragon.

"Why does this keep happening to me?" he asked. He demolished a small grocers van with the flames as he did so.

"Not that I mind being a Santa dragon... and these silver breasts are rather interesting."

Stomping over to his video tape collection, he noticed that three video tapes had somehow been jammed into his VCR. Extending a silver claw, he pryed them out and examined them with one draconic twinkling eye. "Ah, here's the trouble. My copy of Dragonheart, Metropolis, and A Miracle on 32nd Street! That explains a few things." He crammed the tapes into his mouth and munched thoughtfully.

Just then, a six foot tall redhead with long flowing eyelashes and a serious case of Goth envy rolled into the house on rollerblades, towing an ancient woman and an ancient man in wheel chairs. "Ooh! It's just like I dreamed! Look, Daddy! Santa Claus did what he promised! It's my house!"
The old man shot the old woman with a .455 Webley-Fosberry Automatic Revolver and then shot himself, collapsing with a sigh,"Free at last, thank god, I'm free at last."
The redhead stamped her foot impatiently,"That's not fair! You never share!"
Jason turned to her with a gleam in his eye and a claw extended," You have no idea. C'mere, lady. I have a little job for you. I want you to...."

...find me a videotape that will get me out of this mess. I'm sure it's all down to them."

The redhead gave him a strange look.

"Like What?", she asked.

"I don't know", said Jason mournfully. "We'll have to do some searching. Hop onto my back."

The redhead jumped onto the dragon's back and Jason spread his wings and took off in search of a video store.

Far below, the sound of tiny silver bells could just be heard over the rush of the cold night air and the sound of a rather grating recording of a simple childish melody.

The girl with flowing lashes poured an imploring look at the silver dragon. Her large eyes sparkled like an oil slick, as rheumy as they were roomy.

"Oh, go on then", roared Jason, as flames lept from his nostrils like snot in Ibrox in December.

"Oh, lovely!" chirped the girl, whose name was Clara-something, "I'm going to have a double Webley-Fosberry dip with sprinkles and a melon wedge."

Jason folded his wings slightly and began to dive back towards the earth.

Three Sopwith Camels with orange and green flourescent paint advertising Altoids down their fuselages roared at Jason, Lewis guns pelting him with lozenges of the most painful sort.
He gently deposited the girl near the ice cream wagon and rose into the air to do battle with the planes. He tore an upper wing half off one of them and batted the other two out of the sky, then caught each pilot out of each plane before it hit the ground and spanked them soundly before heaving them through the door of the nearest pub.
When he returned to the girl she was sitting in ecstasy on a park bench, face buried in an ice cream dish, moaning and waving her legs and singing," I love ice cream,
I love this dragon,
I love my knickers,
I love this bench,
I love MTV,
I love, I love, I love.."
In disgust, Jason swerved away and headed for the nearest video store in the hopes of finding...