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

Being a girl? What I would have given to be a girl!

I was born just a head, no torso at all.

Despite this, I still had to dig enough coal from t'pit to fuel the entire universe, without having the luxury of teeth to mine it with.

My evil stepdad and his mates then used me as a rugby ball, til it were time to start down pit again.

Lucky!
Why, I had to carry out surveillance work with nothing more than two sheets of recycled paper and a broken pencil! And nobody bothered slicing me open before unleashing the ravenous mutant hamsters.

i had to write in my blood on the back of my hand, and they took my glasses away so I couldn't see, but still expected me to read numberplates a mile away

Luxury!

I had to write with a scalpel on the back of my hand, and they made me read a numberplate a mile away by supergluing my eyeballs to it, and driving away at 100mph.

Still, I never complained, in fact I thanked them for the new experience.

Luxury!

They made me pay for the scalpel I had to carve my hand with.

Hah!

They made me pay for my hand with my other hand, and they made me pay for the scalpel with my nose, teeth, ears, kidneys and feet. And I was thankful.

How lucky indeed!

The money raised by my outer body parts and kidnesy wasn't enough, and I had to sell my liver and left lung to black market dealers just to pay for the difference!

Well, I hope you got a good price for your liver.

Mine was fried by my evil stepdad, and I never saw it after my 9th birthday.

About the same time I had the job where people tested out new staple guns on my tongue, and new alumnium baseball bats on all my major joints.

Happy Times

Oh how fortunate to have kept your body parts til the age of nine! As an infant I was used as a chewtoy for my stepmother's pet piranha. Needless to say, I don't even have *joints* for anyone to smash.

You think that is bad? I had to sleep next to Micheal Jackson as a lass of 9, and I had to see him in a not so innocent way so I could afford to go home from my job down in the looms!

The court case is still pending, but you could walk away a very rich ex-loomstress!

LOOMS!

LOOMS, she says like that is hard work!

I HAD TO MILK ANTS!

Then, when I had 50 milk churns full, I had to deliver it to all the houses in the British Isles, and Wales, and my shoes were made from old cheese graters, and my trousers were weft by some idiot LOOMstress from emery cloth.

Milking Ants...you were lucky.

I had a real job dissasembling and reassembling nemotode worms cell by cell and selling them to bored Japanese businessmen living in iceland. And if I didn't dissassemble and reassemble and sell 200,000,000,000 in a day we were flogged to within an inch of our lives and forced to listen to a speaking tour by a politician.

Researcher PSG

Well, I had to disassemble the bored Japanese business men atom by atom, and all the ice in Iceland. And then re-assemble it all two millimetres to the right. 1000 times a day. For a 100 Years. Just so I couldn't afford to feed my enormous adopted family of blood sucking mutant bats.

Bats, you should be so lucky.

I had to feed seven and a half trillion baby mutant flies and they only eat regurgitated offal.

And then I had to clean up the mess.

Pah,

I had to feed 8 trillian flies on the guts of scale worms lightly fried in stone's blood and then had to feed the flies one by one to and enormous 10m high frog with a poor digestive system for which I was responsible for cleaning up afterwards

I don't think I made it clear that I had to eat the offal and then regurgitate it too.

Does that make a difference?

Well I had to extratct the contents of the scale worm's gut with my teeth

I didn't tell you that the offal comes from the greater foul smelling monkey cow of brontitaal. Famed for it's odorous offal.

You think sweets are bad for your teeth? I had to eat house bricks, washed down with more housebricks. That really clogs up you internal workings I can tell you!

... and when I wasn't eating housebricks, I had to eat radioactive waste. With a tea strainer. While sitting on a sack of rabid rats. And entertaining my evil stepdad's mates by singing a medley of phil collins (he doesn't deserve capital letters) songs. And accompanying my song by hitting myself on the bony rib cage with a rusty lump hammer. With spikes sticking out of it.