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

[Mewtwo] }Hello? How do we join CHOPPERS?{

[Vekura] {No one's at the forum on the CHOPPERS page...}

OK OK. You can join here. Sorry to be so late but there were problems in the 9th dimension that I had to sort out. You know how it is.

Uncle Heavy is sitting at his desk, going through the usual pile of superhero paperwork. he has a thought;

Uncle Heavy: *Why doesn't someone compact several tons of rubbish into a solid framework with the aid of specialised machines...and use it to stop the leaning tower of Pisa from falling over?*

At that moment, the vent grating in the darkest corner of his office bursts open as, in a flash of blue-ish grey, a seven-foot tall, suit wearing, Oakley sporting, gun toting Xenomorph leaps out at him. He barely has time to blink before the Xenomorph is upon him. Unfortunately, Giguschild seems to have miscalculated. Uncle Heavy was not in fact sitting on the chair...he was standing on it to gain the height necessary to reach the top of the desk. Unc's overcoat, fully three times as long as he is, was draped over the back of the chair, hence the Alien's wrong move. Uncle Heavy is harmlessly knocked sprawling onto the surface of the desk.

The Xenomorph compensates adroitly and catapaults himself of of the floor, this time taking into account Uncle's unfortunate height defficiency, and pins The People's Champion's overcoat to the wall with his razor sharp tail. As Uncle Heavy gibbers frantically, Giguschild hisses and draws back his upper lip, his jaws parting to give the frightened human a glimpse of the deadly secondary jaw, which snaps angrily.

Suddenly a thought strikes Giguschild. He whips his tail out of the wall, dropping the short hero onto the floor. Ashamedly, he steps backwards and reaches out a hand. Quickly he hisses,

"Oopss...sssorry about that. Inssssstinctss...you know." He brushes the wrinkles out of the battered and torn overcoat.
"Don't worry....I'll...buy you a new one. Now...oh yessss. I've come to join....CHOPPERS. I think I've already proven my abilitiesss...that is to sssssay, the ability... to pull some cool-asss sh1t and dispenssse ssome in-disscriminate Alien justisssce to any local...bad guys. May I?" He takes a battered and leaking Mont Blanc fountain pen from his torn suit pocket and offers it to Uncle Heavy, who stumbles over to his desk and climbs up onto his chair. The broken nib hovers over the CHOPPERS members list. WILL HE SIGN!?!?! *Dahn-da-DAAAAAHHH!!!!!?!* Find out, next...well, soon anyways.

*Uncle reaches over and slaps his xenomorph bitch.*

OK. but don't attack me. Feel free to be my sidekick

Uncle Heavy turns around, but Giguschild is not there. A distant scuttling sound can be heard retreating down the broken vent shaft.

*Well* thinks Uncle Heavy *I guess I can keep this pen*, and he puts it in his pocket.

Gaarge: My lord, I bring myself before you to ask of you a great favour. Let me join your chopper guild! Gastrophrantabulor depends upon the aid of the CHOPPERS. I myself am particularly super, but my powers alone are not enough to prevent the evil doings of malefactors and miscreants.
I would urge you, my lord, to consider my proposal. I am a Gastrophrantabulite of amazing powers. I have at my disposal some of the most courageous thoughts the little people ever had. That is to say, I have at my fingertips the power to select and re-enact a huge store of knowledge, wrought in me by the great god of Gastrophrantabulor. I am a very rare being. I derive from the Ferringbular mountain range, and am one of a few who were also wrought by the great God of Gastrophrantabulor. The rest of my race are sparse, and spread throughout the galaxy. I implore you lord, let me become one of your loyal followers.

Riight. OK.