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

Episode for November 1

Scotland Yard was having a bad time. Not only was the most notorious murder case of the year unsolved*, newspapers were hinting that Parliament was getting ready to decommission the Yard and outsource detective work. Heaven knew what sort of third-rate agency they would hire!

Then there was the Queen, who was miffed because the Yard had bungled the Crakkerjack Ripper case by unwittingly pinning the murders on Crakkerjack and Ripper, two horses who happened to be owned by the Queen's granddaughter.. "We had no idea they were horses" cut no ice at Buckingham palace, where the ever earthy Prince Philip compared the cream of the Yard's agents to an obvious part of a horse's anatomy.*

Better to suck it up and deal directly with agencies that owed Scotland Yard a few favors. If they solved the case, Scotland yard could at least share some credit.

Chief Inspector Dreyfus Lestrade seemed unable to make even that plan work, though. The best agencies, because of their success, had all the business they could handle, thank you very much! He was at the last name on his list now, an unorthodox agency called Off-the-Beaten Track Detective Agency.

"They aren't kidding about being off the beaten track," he exclaimed, noting that their home office was in Enfield, a tiny Massachusetts village that was ostensibly underwater in the middle of Quabbin Reservoir. "Do the staff go to work in scuba gear?" he wondered, dialing their number.


*A serial killer had been killing fat French women and high-church Unitarians. Yeah, I know, you'd think there wouldn't be any, but it's a big world, even for London. The only clues found at the scene were wrappers for oat bran cream puffs.

*The Crakkerjack Ripper killed young women in some particularly disgusting ways, then left a box of Crakkerjacks next to their bodies. The boxes contained neither Crakkerjacks nor toys, just a taunting note. One victim who refinished furniture got a note that said, "The Lady Varnishes." Another victim, who sold shirts for a sports memorabilia store in a shopping plaza got a note saying, "The Mall-Tees Falcons." So it went.

Looks like paulh is off to a better start than Dreyfus Lestrade

This would make either an amazing film or a play.

I try to write as if I were describing an actual scene. Apparently I'm succeeding,. Thank you for your kind words.

The story is about to get screwier.

You have a rare gift for excruciating puns, paulh. Long may it continue!

November 2

"OBT Detectives," warbled a plummy voice, "Jessica Fletch speaking. How may we help you?"

"Oh, good, you haven't drowned yet," Lestrade said. "I'm Dreyfus Lestrade of Scotland Yard, with an urgent request for assistance."

"Ah, yes, Dimity said you'd be calling," Ms Fletch said.

"Wait, who is Dimity, and how could she possibly have known that?" Lestrade exclaimed.

"I'll explain it all if you'll be calm and listen carefully," said a matronly voice behind him.

Lestrade dropped the phone and turned around in disbelief. There in his office, behind him, was a middle-aged woman with a tea trolly. She was pouring tea into two cups.

"No one can possibly get in here without my knowing!" Lestrade snapped.

"You're used to dealing with the living, Inspector," said the woman. "Milk? Lemon? sugar?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Lestrade said, less sure of himself now.

"Which part? Tea is made from dried leaves grown in tropical places. Lemon is a citrus fruit...."

"No, no, that's not the mystery. You aren't supposed to be able to sneak in here like that. Well, maybe some lemon and a lump of sugar...."

"I'm a ghost, Inspector," the woman said, handing him his tea. "My name is Dimity Marple Wibblescone. I was a great detective before I died, and I have no intention of letting the small detail of death force me to retire. I can pass through doors that the living don't even know exist."

"Is your assistant a ghost too?"

"Jessica? Oh, she's very much alive. I think you'd like her...."

Oooooh goody ghosts!

I like the names of the characters

November 3

"Try one of the scones, Inspector," Dimity said, handing Lestrade a cup of tea and a scone. "They are the wibblescones to which I gave my name."

Lestrade eyed the scone with suspicion. "What's in this?"

"Whatever I had on hand," Dimity said cheerfully. "You say 'wibble' when you're at a loss for words, so a wibblescone is what you make when you're at a loss for a scone recipe. This has raisins and white chocolate bits, with the usual flour, etc. And I know you're wondering if it's real."

Lestrade took a bite and found that he liked the scone. Dimity continued: "Except for me, everything you see here is from the world of the living, same as you. What's different is the force field around us, which lets me, a ghost, bring a tea set here from Massachusetts and scones from my kitchen in Fuffex, without the usual transportation hassles."

Lestrade cocked one eye. "That sounds like science fiction mumbo jumbo. How could any of it work?"

"Sorry, it's against GCP to reveal the exact method>"

"GCP?"

"God's Cosmic Plan. Let's just say there are doors between dimensions if you know where to find them. Now, on to the mystery of the cream puff killer"

"How did you know?...."

"Even a dead detective can read about your travails in the newspaper."

(Don't mind me, just cheering you on.)

Please hold the raisins in mine and substitute bran, if its available... ...or perhaps add apple and make it a wibble-fritter.

Looking ahead, I hope that no fat French women will be offended by episodes yet to come. Or high-church Unitarians. I'm, not worried about offending the oat bran cream puff industry, as no one else on the Internet has ever even mentioned them.

This is a first for cyberspace. Remember that!

I'm a syncretic Unitarian myself, so rather more tolerant and much thicker skinned than the High Church crowd... ...though, sometimes, I wistfully regret not accepting a once-upon-a-time High Church proposal.

I even gave up my job as founder and first archbishop of The First Church of Agnosticism. Bring it on, I say!

Okay, don't say you haven't been warned!


November 4

"So you know about my humiliation at the hands of L'Union des Grosses Femmes Francaises?"

"The Association of Fat French Women is disappointed in you for not bringing their killer to justice. It was pure accident that they were having their annual convention in London rather than Paris. When they lost three of their members, they got emotional, and I can understand that. But at least they didn't throw pies at you or chase after you on the street."

"I assumed that was because throwing pies would be a waste of food."

"You haven't been attacked by the high-church Unitarians, have you?"

"I think the last one was one of the murder victims. There are none left to organize."

"Well, let's start with the one clue we do have: wrappers from oat-bran cream puffs were left at the scene of every murder. If you hire us to take the case, we will track down every bakery in the world that makes that kind of cream puff. There shouldn't be very many to visit. Once we can find a connection between one of their customers and the times and places of the murders, we'll be that much further along."

"Okay, you're hired. Just don't make me eat any of those cream puffs. They sound ghastly"

"Jessica tasted one an hour ago, and she would agree with you.

November 5

Dimity seemed to be listening to someone else, and abruptly told Inspector Lestrade that she needed to be off.

"How will I get in touch?" the Inspector exclaimed.

"Just call Jessica at OBT. I think she's actually found a promising lead." Dimity placed the cups and saucers back on the trolly, and wheeled it through an invisible doorway, vanishing from view. There was a little *pop* as the force field itself went away.

Lestrade gave a shrug and resumed the paperwork he had been doing.

Ten minutes later the phone rang.

"Inspector, this is Jessica" said the plummy voice he had heard before. "What a coincidence that a bakery in my home town of Cabbage Cove sells oat bran cream puffs.
I'm on my way there, and Dimity will swing by and pick you up as well so you can question the proprietor." .

"What? How?" Lestrade sputtered.

"She has a little car which can travel between dimensions," Jessica said cheerfully. "The only stipulation is that you wear a blindfold. It's the GCP thing again, I'm afraid. Don't worry, the trip will be short and you won't hear too many strange things on the way. Ah, she says she's already in your office." Jessica hung up.

Lestrade sighed and looked behind him, where an Interdimensional Express car was waiting, with Dimity at the wheel. Lestrade got into the passenger seat, put on the blindfold, and a few minutes later heard the sound of the tide coming in on Cabbage Cove Beach.

Are they left or right hand drive Interdimentional Express cars? Just picturing it....

Both, they're interdimentional after all

F S

The neutral method would be to have the steering wheel in the middle of the car, and one-lane roads since no one else would be traveling.

But it would be nice to have more description in these episodes. In a full-length novel I could cover these things. As a daily journal, I'm trying to have each entry be less than one page, so the whole thing is visible on one screen.