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

Just don't put that candle near the anthills again, it was a real pain clearing that up after that last tute suit explosion man came by to clean the chinchilla cage... I think

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Nighthoover H'2g2 wgah'nagl fhtagn.

He comes...

Iä! 2legs! The Bondage Pony of the Woods with a Thousand Cowbells!
Iä! Iä! Nighthoover fhtagn!

Lo, in the darkest recesses and dankest corners of the least well illuminated aspects of a well-hidden, deralict flat, on the 4th floor of an equally disregarded and forgotten block of flats, the darkness grew and expanded.
Shadowing furnature, providing ample anchor points for a myriad of filimentus spider webs, themselves ensnareing only dust, the eight-legged origional inhabitants, like the two-legged inhabitants of the decrepid buildings, long ago left for more ameniable surroundings. Decay of wood, of paint, and of brick, barely a sound, nor a movement except for the briefest tentative gust of wind, exploring through, then retreting back, through broken window and shattered door.
Still, settled, but yet, a tangible buzz in the air, a slight tantalising fizz of energy, of electricity, ever-present, yet so faint as to remain untouchable, unreachable, forever unseen....

Mmm, fizz.

*BZZZKT!*
Ow!

Mmm, burnt toast.

Homer --> (_8(|) D'oh!

NO 8 DO!

http://public.fotki.com/clzoomer/warning!/zoomer_021.html

Is vacuuming after dusk the proper way to show our devotion to Nighthoover's return, or will any housework do?

Hoovering is prefered; after dusk, and preferably whilst drunk... or at least under the influence of Dusting or even mopping can be used by some nighthooverites but the main act does seem to remain that of hoovering whilst drunk... lettuce spray

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Someday nighthover will return though and we'll all be saved, don't ya know!

one day, one glorious day, as the liver biscuits crawl over the crochet lawn of peas, and the slivering sliding rotary motor embarks on another cross-legged embarkment of the gamway, as the lampost slinks underneath the postbox, and dislodges the fallen rye bread, as the sun sinks high over the falling frogs and toades, and the badgers howl in the window of the shop, whilst the forgotten pipes grurble and spring, as the cable unwinds and the dwarves begin to sing, where the wooshing sound of passing brick walls, all join together, and hark give the call Lettuce spray...

For those who would mop in the daylight, lattice prey.

For those who would mow the crocheted lawn of peas
also we prey.

For he will come in night-time and long before the dawn.



~jwf~

I will polish the tiled fireplace and de-cobweb the darkest corners while we wait

and I shall eat the broom handle, so we can save on shoe leather... lettuce chew chew chew chew chew chew chew gulp

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I can't be mad. Even my dwarves tell me I'm saine, and the houseplants allways concur with my dwarves... actually the dwarves made a huge mess last night... they were trying to form a human.... well dwarf-pyramid, and kept falling over... I suspect they were drunk...

so!
















I take it that through transition nighthoover's a no show?

I'm still waiting in the pumpkin patch.