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

*from audience pov*

Didn't the Extremely Wild Ride issue a disclaimer before we all embarked? He said it awfully fast, but he did say it, I think. Poor Humpty. Look how his head is bulging!

Yes, the wild ride did issue a disclaimer, but then I did not actually get ON the ride. I think I have quite a good case. If Miss Deed agrees to represent me that evil law firm will *never* represent me! How could I agree to do business with them when they are trying to pull off this kind of thing?!

* Looks under his chair. *

Is there a ventriliquist here? I seem to be developing dandruff too.

* Wipes some dandruff off of his head, but instead comes a way with a small piece of shell. *

At last, a little bit of light!

* Faints *

*backs away from Humpty Dumpty, thinking of what the others have said of what kind of egg he might be*

[Ripley] *climbs up on T's back*

**Purr's attention is more than momentarily drawn awar from the pamphlet and other papers handed him by Miss Deedes. He slinks over to Humpty Dumpty and begins eggsamining him from behind.**

[Purr] Curriouserr and curriouserr... Humpty, dearr frriend, arre yeou ffeeling quite well? Yeou sseem to be a bit out of ssorrts... Urrrrr... May Ai offerr a paw in assistance? Maiy chap, yeou arre eitherr moulting or yeou arre morre crracked than Ai had at ffirst imagined...

*Pansy has been deeply engrossed in the green brochure for some time.*

Miss Henrietta, do you think the Farmer's Wife is going to turn up for her appointment? If not, I'm very interested in having a look round. Is the seller open to all offers?
What about on the house price?

Ba-BOOM!

*squirms, trying to get used to the feeling that just for once a girl might actually be seriously interested in him*

Eh - every other weekend - and every other holiday as well?

*smiles sheepishly at Mary*

WHO HOOOO!



I mean, sure, that would be fine.

Purr, dear friend, lean closer so you can hear me clearly. I think these are my last moments. No closer, that's right, closer. Tell my brothers and sisters...

* A foot suddenly shoots out of Humpty's head, hitting Purr *

There! That's much better!

Wow! Humpty is ... hatching!

*nibbles a bit of the door*

This is so exciting... and worrying.

Hatching! What's that? Is that the thing my father was supposed to tell me about when I was 10? I don't think I'm hatching, I think I'm dying...

* Another foot shoots out, and Humpty flips over so he is now standing on his head feet. *

...to get out of here. I think if I just move this way I can...

* A wing pops out of Humpty's side *

*looks at Humpty Dumpty from the relative safety beneath the kitchen table, eyes wide with half horror, half excitement*

Qua-honk!

Now look here! I'm trying to sell this cottage and I can't have people hatching out in it. It gives entirely the wrong impression.

[Back]: You'd think someone called Henrietta would be more sympathetic to someone hatching.

* Another wing shoots out of Humpty's shell, this one clutching the green brochure and waving it vigorously. *

Ah-ha! Ah-ha! You think you can pull that one, do you Miss Deeds! But I have everything I need right here, I can

* Flips over so the egg-legs are bottom-most *

hurry up and get this lawsuit moving, please? The effects of the ride are worse than I thought, I seem to be developing schizosis, or schizitis, or perhaps schizorrhia. And my shell has cracked!

**Still rubbing his jaw with one paw, Purr recovers from the impact. He licks his lips, licks his paw, preens his whiskers with the paw, then licks his lips again. And again. And once more for good measure, then turns to face the Hatchling nee Humpty. There's a strange look in his pale-blue slitted cat's eyes; a feral wild look that rises in intensity so it's almost palpable. He leers at the wings and the legs protruding from Humpty's shell, considering something...**

[Purr] Tasstes like chicken... Meowrrrrrr...

**Startled by his own thoughts, Purr physically shrugs away the emotion, then composes himself, smoothing down his jerkin and dusting off his breeches. Sublimating his natural urge, he discreetly takes a gingerbread cookie from the tin on the table. It's painfully evident that the sweet is a poor substitute, in Purr's eyes.**

[Purr] Besst kibble Ai have had ssince Ai worrked pet commerrcialss in the Sstates. [he lies]

* Flips over again and pops head out of shell to see what Purr is talking about *

Who's the wise guy who drew a face on my shell with crayon?

* shakes off the remainder of the shell *