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

"Hmmm...", thought several members of the main cast at the same time.

"Wait a minute!", cried the vicar, "Look...!" The curious spelling that had suddnely burst upon the rendition of the young man's name seemed to suggest an important clue. But What?

"Wait a minute!", cried Mrs. Vengeful-Softdrink, "Look...!" She leapt with mad abandon at a large globe, which sat collecting dust near the hearth. "I hadn't noticed earlier, but the curious spelling of your name suggests that you are of Vietnamese ancestry, young boa-wearing person, though probably of an extremely obscure ethnic sub-group... and the pins stuck into several romantic and mysterious places in Southeast Asia on this globe...", here she pointed in an eccentric manner at the globe, "... confirms it! Aha!"

And with that, and assuming a dramatic posture, she lurched out of the room.

"But wait a minute. That doesn't explain why...

....why..." said a disembodied voice belonging to no-one.

"How queer," said both Tim and Ben.

"This is just silly," said the Bishop, putting down his cattle prod so that he could snap Ben's neck.

"Eeep!" said Ben. And that was that.

"That's murder," cried Tim.

"Only from a factual perpective," the Bishop parried with Vulcanesque logic.

Just then a group of young Carol singers turned up.

"Caaa-aaaa-rol, caaaa-rol, ca-a-a-a-a-rol," they sang badly.

And just after that the fireplace -- in which the vicar was sitting, trying to stamp out the fire that had caught in his loins -- slid to one side and a fetid, foetid, fitted old man lept from the shadows behind it. He was clothed in rags and thin as an man who has been locked under a church for 60 years.

Listening to the sound the rags made the Vicar knew who it was. "Great-Grandad, it's you, it's you!"

But a madness was upon the old man, and seeing his old foe, he lept again, this time onto the Bishop and laid into him with mighty blows.

"No G-G-Dad," the vicar cautioned. "Don't bash the bishop in front of the carol singers. You'll be locked up again!"

Then the old man stopped, the bishop quivering in fear 'neath him, and with lips that had not spoken words in many long years he said....

Merry Christmas Old Man. It took you long enough to get here.
The old man cackled. Oh I've been here before but I'm stronger now.
And grabbing a poker from the fireplace he bashed in the Bishop's head.
The Vicar went white. He started to say something but closed his mouth again.
The old man dropped the poker and stood there grinning.

A wild, unkempt grin spread accross his face as he looked at the bewildered main characters (both living and dead) and announced, "To all a Merry Christmas, and a happy New Year."

The End

So if Christmas teaches us anything, it's not to lock old people under ground, because they'll come back to get you and beat in your head with a poker. And that's the real spirit of Christmas.

~~~~~~~~
would you rather this be the spirit of Christmas.
Celebrating the Lord's birth with a man in a red suit
pulled by reindeer?

or overpriced wilting pine trees with twinkling lights and silver slivers of aluminum and tacky ribbons of purple and lime green and glitter stars that are falling apart all over your living room carpet only to be eaten up by the house cat and showing up days later in his litter pan...

but I digress...

the true spirit lives on.. you have to look inside to find it.

The trouble is that, once inside, the salesmen won't leave you alone.

But that's another story altogether.

Vicar looked at Tim and Ben in amazement, and then a single tear fell across his cheek. He HAD forgotten what the true christmas spirit was about. That's what they were trying to tell him all along.

"Christmas.." said Vicar. "Christmas is...."

.. coming, my wife is getting fat.
Please put a Rennie in the old woman's hat.

Ah, yes, it's all coming back to me now."

'The man's a drivelling idiot,' thought Ben.

'I agree,' thought Tim.

'How dare you?' thought the Vicar.

The salesmen, completely baffled by this behaviour, made their exuses and left. But they did leave their card.

'Look at this card,' commanded the Vicar, 'it says quite clearly here ...

"... that the true spirit of Christmas will be performed tonight", he read, "by the Letterbox Finger Puppet Players."

"Quick, Tim and Ben, you beautifully exotic gestalt of Southeast Asian origin, untie yourselves and pass me the phone... We haven't a moment to lose!"

Just then a small man in a tall hat crawled from beneath a pile of newspapers and coughed meaningfully...

'I can solve this little difficulty' leered the Bishop triumphantly waving his cattle prod in a sinister pattern. (He was left handed)

Astounded, the Vicar watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as the Bishop feinted and lunged, feinted and lunged, sheperding Ben and Tim tightly together in the centre of the room. Coincidentally this was also the location of a strangely occult pattern on the carpet which had hitherto been concealed by an occasional table. (Only occasionally it wasn't)

'En garde' shrieked the Bishop with his final thrust and the cattle prod sizzled menacingly. A nauseating stench and cloud of smoke filled the air. As this slowly cleared, the Vicar could see just one body standing where previously there had been two.

'Another cup of tea, anybody?' he enquired timidly.

"That would be very nice indeed", said the reverend Andrew, "I'll ring for the stalwart Mrs Vengeful-Spite."

A short time later, Mrs Vengeful-Spite entered with a silver tea service and a tray of cakes.

"Ah, my dear Mrs Vengeful-Spite", chirped the vicar, "I do hope you will join us by the fire."

"Why, bless you vicar, I oughtn't to really."

"Nonsense, my good woman! I'm sure the forces of darkness will be just as glad of a rest."

The company laughed good naturedly, though Mrs Vengeful-Spite was a trifle uneasy.

Just then, there was a loud knock at the door.

"Ah, that will be Biggles, I suspect", laughed the vicar, "Do go and let him in, Tim, there's a good chap."

Unnoticed by the vicar or Mrs Vengeful-Spite, the bishop stiffened and assumed a posture that a careful observer would have regarded with more than a little suspicion...

Fortunately Tim was a careful observer and when he entered the room he noticed.

"Look what happens when you bang the bishop - he's gone stiff."

Behind Tim were a crowd of badly-dressed musicians led by a short man with a pair of very large glasses.

"I'm afraid there's been a bit of a mix-up vicar," said Tim, "I know you were expecting Biggles but it looks like Buggles have turned up instead. Can I introduce you to Trevor Horn?"

The vicar grasped Horn by the hand and shook it...

vigorously, almost knocking his glasses off his face. "H-allo there!" said vicar.

"Bit nip to the air, ain't it vicar?" asked Horn. "So glad you were up to visitors tonight. We thought we might be caught in this terrible..."