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

*casually walks into the Lobby as if she doesn't expect anyone to notice her. Thistle's street close look entirely like her stage costume, except they are DRY. Goes to the bar and speaks with the Large Individual.*

Sir, please, do you have Purple Pickle Juice? My publisher said you would have it, though they didn't request it in the contract or anything. If you don't then I suppose a diet cola will do.

*comes waddling towards Thistle*

*holds out pen and paper, tilts head trying to look cute*

Meep?

*to Pansy* Thank you so much!

*turns to the Farmer's Wife who is waiting for her Cristal* And may I have your autograph too, please? You were quite convincing as the villain to the mice!

*tentatively takes the page, then holds it close to her chest, almost reverently*

Oh, Wow! This is so cool...Mom and Dad do most of our signings, but I've given a lot of thought about what I'd write if anyone asked...let's see...

*takes the pen, and in her best penmanship writes...*

{Some bright night, when the moon rises red, and the Man-in-the-moon looks bright eyed and jolly, think of me.
Yours,

Thistle Howl}

*then, to give the thing authenticity, she bites off the lower right corner of the page.*

:: With a dexterity and alacrity that belies his massive size, the LARGE Induhvidual prepares the libations requested. He turns first to the Farmer's Wife, then to Thistle Howl. ::

[LARGE] There ye are, Mum. Cristal, vintage 1984, an excellent year, a superb season. And for you, Miss. My Mawnager asked me to stock this rather odd...er-hum...occidental refreshment: Purple Pickle Juice. I do believe you'll be starting a trend, young lady...

:: He smiles magnanimously as he hands over the drink, his continent-sized hands dwarfing Thistle's tiny furry paws, yet he still manages the transfer gracefully. ::

Oooh - thank you Thistle - nice touch!

*looks at the farmer's wife, hesitates*


Should we just get autographs from those of the actors that we liked, or from those we disliked too?

*looks down at her shoes in spite of herself, then glares back at Pansy Fing before taking the program and signing it in a small tight hand*

Better mud on one's shoes than on one's derriére, I always say.

*hands the program back to Lil, then takes her drink with a nod of thanks and stalks off to peek through the lobby doors*

Dang! She's come undone!

[Ripley]:

Oh dear, oh dear...

*looks eagerly around for more actors to show up*

*Pansy tries not to snigger as she turns to check her derrière, then turns to the Farmers Wife*

I'm sorry my dear, I was mistaken about your shoes. However, your slip is showing.

*collapses in a heap on the floor together with Ripley, both of them giggling hysterically*

*enters the lobby feeling much more sure of himself by now, chin up, neck straight*

*from his movements you can however tell that the actor inside is beginning to fell a bit cramped after all the squatting bent over double inside the feathery costume*

Quack?

*aimed at the big Individuahl, hopefully resulting in a *

Eh.. excuse me - uh - Duckie? Do you mind if I call you that? Ahem... anyway... I was wondering if I could have your autograph, please?

*whispers to the Swan*

(These people! They think just because they've seen you on stage they know all there is about you. "Duckie" indeed. I should ignore it if I was you. Mind you, some of the cast aren't much better. Do you know what whatserface playing the wifey called me? Fing!!! I ask you! There's two F's in effing!)

*Pansy smiles sweetly at all in the room and raises her glass of at Titania*

*watches with interest to see how the swan will cope with the request*

*enters the lobby with Mary by his side*

*keeping a weary eye on the *

*heading straight for the bar*

Monsieur, if you please - a Triple Sec, s'il vous plait!

What are you having, ma chérie?

*calmly ignores the *

*stands up, having 'overheard' Pansy's comment with her fine elven hearing*

For your information, Ms Ffing - 'Duckie' is a term of endearment!

Don't worry Ripley, we've already got *her* autograph - now go and play cute in front of... of... the swan, and I'll try to corner that stranger over there!

*the mice duck under the door and stroll into the lobby, looking around*

*they scurry upward and sit on the counter*
1: We'll have a bloody mary.
2: On ice.
3: And three straws.
1: Thank you kindly.
2: Good to get rid of those dark glasses.
3: *waving* Hi, F.W.!

*enters wearing a beautiful deep crimson ballgown over a crinoline, trimmed with Brussels lace. With white elbow length silk evening gloves and delicate glass slippers, a diamond tiara glitters in the curls on her head*

Oh, isn't Robyn here yet? Look at the wonderful things she pulled out of her swag bag for me!

*twirls*