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

It was a silent moonlit night deep in the vast forests of northern Scandinavia. Gother was sitting on her usual branch high up in the family tree keeping watch over all the other meese, who were fast asleep.
Suddenly she heard a soft rustling in the leaves behind her and a voice whispered: "Gother Moose, Gother Moose - are you awake?"
"Of course I'm awake", she quietly bellowed so as not to wake anyone, "I'm on my watch after all, aren't I?"
"Yes, okay, I just wanted to warn you. Rumour has it that there is a wolf on the loose!"
"I see. Thank you. One must take special precautions where wolves roam", Ms Moose muttered - mostly to herself.
"Werevolves?" the informant whispered with a trembling voice, "are you sure?"

And then the writer woke up not knowing how to continue the story ...

Murfisal dawg!

Ponty Mython came on the scene singing the lumberjack song. Soon the tree was lying on the ground, He got Gother Moose a good job laundering women's clothing in a shop next to the bar that Ponty hung around in.

And then the writer woke up not knowing how to continue the story - But! The writer remembered that bit, so next kip "log-in" to the story

I always have a notepad and pen at my bedsideincase something errstupid comes to mind while asleepAs most of my written stuff in hootoo comes via kip

I've written down lots of ideas while asleep, but when I wake up the notes disappear.

Meanwhile in another part of the deep forest a werewolf said to a badger: "I'm afraid my cover has been blown."
"Oh dear", said the badger, "what are you going to do about it?"
"I was thinking about asking one of the vampire beavers. Surely they must have some experiences I could learn from?"
"Ah,", said the badger, "I'm afraid it's too late for that".
"How do you reckon?", said the werewolf.
"Well the curse of the vampire beavers was two-fold since they could only live on Blood Ahorn."
"Blood Ahorn? I've never seen one around here."
"Exactly. They are all dead. As are all the vampire beavers, I'm afraid. Starved to death they are."

An ahorn is a maple tree, but it doesn't contain any blood. This would present an existential problem for vampire beavers.

...if I may be forgiven (stop here if not) some interpretive material, I would say this is clearly an anxiety dream brought on by the recent elections, where the werewolf represents a recently elected politico of questionable character and the vampire beavers are clearly Rajneeshi-Yule Gibbons hybrids that have taken refuge in the catacombs of CalTech from which they occasionally conduct forays in their , space in other words...

Yule Gibbons is a pale ale brewed in Scandinavia
Euell Gibbon, by comparison, is or was an expert on foraging for food in the forest.

As for the Rajneeshees, let's not go there.

Almond was one of the Low Elfs. Usually called Pocket or Pint Elfs by all other creations. (Though of course never to their faces! Because despite their insignificant height their knowledge of The Dark Magics was no less than astounding.)
This morning her mother had to wake her up thrice. - Ms Almond Flake! Get your a$$ out of that bunk IM-ME-DI-A-TE-LY, Mother Flake roared. Then calmed herself and continued in a softer tone: - Look, I know you are a teenager now, but even if you are only thirteen hundred years old you still need to get up with the rest of us and start collaborating with the rest of this family and contributing to this household by doing your parts of the chores. So wash up, get dressed, have your breakfast and go get me some berries from the forest floor. You know where to find them.
And please get into a lighter mood and for the love of Bob don't turn any others into newts! It's not like we don't have enough of those around already ...

Pierce, is this your NaJoPoMo?

No

Oops. Sorry.

I had some strong less than an hour ago, so panic is the farthest thing from my mind right now.

Willy Werewolf strolled aimlessly through the undergrowth not really thinking about anything in particular. When all of a sudden he met Almond Flake. Immediately realising what she was he mustered his most polite smile and said: "Good morrow to you, fair Ms Elf. May your days be blessed with sunshine and your nights with moonshine!"
"Thank you, Sir, and wouldn't the latter in particular be nice, but Ma keeps telling me I'm still too young for alcohol - no pun intended."
"None taken", Willy answered in his bewilderment before realizing what he was saying.
He went on to say: "Say, can I have some of your purple berries?"
"You could if I had enough but alas, that's not the case", said Almond, "but I have a couple of blood oranges. Won't those be more to your taste?"
"Indeed they will and I thank thee humbly. How did you know I was a vegan werewolf?"
"That's for me to know and for you to find out, but I'll give you a clue: The badgers are not what they seem."
And with this Almond curtsied and bade the wolf a good day.

Gother was worried and distraught. Since a band of marauding lumberjacks had cut down The Family Tree on the recommendation of a certain Bostonian - much to the dismay of the herd of meese and the local tree huggers - she did not know where to keep the herd safe.
It was getting late in the year, so not a good time to wander off to somewhere else. And there were also the rumours about wolves in the vicinity to take into consideration. Some rumours mentioned vicious wargs of tolkienesque proportions - others spoke of hippie-like vegan werewolves. But there were no hard facts to be found and Gother didn't trust any of the rumours. "Fake news", she muttered to herself, "what is this World coming to?"
Just then Almond rode into the scene on the back of a bright red squirrel with shiny black eyes.
"Good evening to you, Ms Moose," Almon said.
"And to you, Ms Almond", Gother answered.

[When the rooming house blew up, roomers were flying]

"Oh deer, oh deer, oh deer", Ma Badger was muttering to herself while hurrying home.
"Yes?" said Ms Deerheart and looked up from her lunch of wild hemp and jimsonweed.
"Oh, nothing, ma'am, I was just talking to myself", Ma Badger answered, slightly frustrated that her neighbours frequently misunderstood her accent.
When she arrived home she was pleased to see that her husband had lunch ready for them. But still worried.
"What's the matter", asked Paw Badger on seeing how worried his spouse was.
"Oh it's just that Gother and her meese are in a bloody mess and Willy Werewolf is in a pickle and the elf is of no use and all the vampire beavers have starved to death and ... and ... and ... oh my Bob there are so many loose ends and how will we ever be able to connect all the dots before the month ends what with the writer being so Bob damn lazy! It's doing my head in, I tell you!"

LWS: Lazy Writer Syndrome

Cure: None

Treatment plan A: hire a ghost writer.

Treatment plan B: threaten loss of , , or unless said writer gets busy