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

[Back]: Five minutes? We'd better get a mooove on then.

**Purr takes one last draught from the glass, wipes his whiskers with the back of his right paw, and produces the equivalent of a rumbling growling sigh.**

[Purr] Crikeys! No time to put on any balm. Barely enough to find the tape mark...

**He stows the snifter, then works his way back into the costume. With another sigh, he hoists the zipper on the front of the suit. Sitting on the edge of the couch again, he slips on and laces each boot. He turns and grasps the costume's mask, orients it the right way, and places it grudgingly back over his own features. He stands, snorts in a particularly feline manner and, with a determined gait, heads out of the Backstage area toward the GingerBread Cottage scene.**

*takes a flask from her pocket and drains the remaining contents into her tea*

There's no hurry, dahlings. The cow has to sing her song first. Audience participation. Pah!

*Pansy has finished her bottle and is curled up in her clothes trunk, fast asleep and snoring loud enough to drive cows home.*

*empties his glass, gives up all hope of ever finding his copy of the contract*

Ah, tant pis - the show must go on, n'est-ce-pas?

*squares shoulders, adjusts bow tie*

*heads off towards stage*

**There is a fast-moving blur in the Backstage corridor that resolves itself into the form of Purr in Boots as he skids to a halt at the edge of the Stage set. Despite his sudden appearance, the decelaration has played havoc with his costume, the jerkin having bunched up under his arms and the leather cap tipping forward askew his head. Even his fur has conspired to fold forward, still clinging to the last throes of momentum, making him look a sight disheveled. He crouches in the dim shadows off-stage, his whole musculature in a stance of readiness to pounce, his tail twitching in mute testimony of the anticipation he must feel at the approaching final act.**

[Purr] {ever so quietly} Purrrrrrr...

The cow's got as far as the Magoose eggs. We'd better get on stage. Someone wake Pansy. We've got about ten minutes - or possibly forever if the cow holds out for someone who can rhyme something with 'Swedish Christmas Ornament' .

*slips off the table and looks for her wand*

All: let's go.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

erghhh


arghhh


Wassatnoiseonstage?

*Pansy suddenly realises that no one has woken her for the finale and that she is well overdue on stage. Hurridly she dresses, as well as can be expected, given the state of her head.*