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

...she put her hands on her hips...

... only to have them ripped off by an angry bile demon who didn't know the lyrics and felt left out. He also settled the hash of that smug professor guy who was in some Bond film, and kept popping up making inane remarks.

" Little did Janet and Peter know that their gracious host was.. AAAARRRGHHH OHGOD OHGOD PLEEEEASE AAAARRRGHHHH" *crunch*

With that film reference over with, the party could continue. Until, that is, a group of zombies got together and began dancing to the song Thriller. Clearly someone would have to restore order. And who better than...

....George Cloony.Who's face had been mangled by the bile demon,therefore helping him catch everyones attention.So with large placard in hand and some markers he set about writing out the lyrics.At this stage the group of darkly dressed men in the corner table stood up and started firing their pump-action shotguns randomly into the crowd.They were the bartenders of a local karioke bar on their night off.Understandable I'm sure you'll agree.
Though the bile monster didn't think so,and made this very clear with a broken bottle.What insued could only be discribed as........

Gary Coleman!

Gary entered and set off towards the living dead orchestra and began conducting. The partiers becan to Mambo!

Jane said to Peter "...

AAaaaah! My Arms! AAAh!

"Yes Janet, very interesting", said Peter nonchalantly, "But what I'm really interested in is finding out where the toilets are. Do you suppose they *have* toilets in a creaky old place like this? Hah!"

Janet had by now collapsed on the floor in a pool of her own blood and was twitching slightly. She lifted a feeble foot towards her boyfriend (no longer having the use of her arms, which were being used as draught excluders in the ballroom).

"Peter..." she moaned, but he had already wandered off. She slumped back on the floor, and some latecomers draped their coats over her.

Outside the door, the elderly couple who lived next door were having an argument.
"... should have married a man, not a mouse like you, Cecil. Just march in there and tell those horrible teens to stop their confounded racket"

"Yes, dear", wheezed the fragile old man, then he limped purposefully into the hall. The vista confronting him looked like some kind of Biblical retribution scene, but fear of Maud drove him on.

"Erm, excuse me", he quavered, "would you mind keeping it down a little bit? Only... it is a weeknight"

There was a dead silence as the assorted creatures stared at him. Then something really, really gruesome happened to him...

...his explosive diharea went into effect. Peter said "...

"I think you may like too see a Doctor"
then the wind picked up and the crows rose from the ground...

... as a cold front moved in off the North Sea. There was nothing sinister about it.

Meanwhile, in the silent cellars, something horrible was dragging itself across the cold flagstones, leaving a trail of slime and blood. It slowly knuckled towards the cellar door, where it vaguely heard the sounds of merriment and explosive vomiting.

Finally, as the clock struck midnight (possibly not for the first time in this story), the Creature burst out of the cellar. The screaming of the horrified guests threatened to bring down the roof of the dusty old mansion, for the Creature was...

Rosie O'Donnel! *Ack!*

...terrified, the guests proceeded to beat Rosie with JaneJanet's arms when...

There was a thudress crash as the door fell down as the real monster enterd who was suprsingly...

...could Irish Stepdance at a professional level!

The celtic music began at a furious pace...

the floor bords started creakeing

The walls started to shake. Large timbers and stones fell from the ceiling. Peter said "...

WELL THATS THE END OF THIS PARTY UNLESS......."

"... someone can stop this sick, mock- Irish b*****d Michael Flatley. Who's with me?!?"

A couple of werewolves at the back of the hall gave an approving howl, and closed on the furiously sweating Flatley. He yelped as the claws came out, and danced for his life while the huge, hairy brutes swiped at him (not unlike a ceili in Limerick). Finally, after completing a particularly complex double- jig, he clicked his heels in the air and sped away, bursting out of the door and not stopping until his frantically flailing feet had taken him a long way off, into a small copse of trees.

"YOU'LL NEVER GET ME!" he hollered exultantly, "I'm MICHAEL FLATLEY!"

"Is that so?" said a shrill little voice from the leafy shadows. It had a pleasant brogue to it, but with an unpleasant undertone of violent death. A match flared in the darkness as the unseen figure lit his pipe. Peering closely, Flatley could see a squat little face, with beady eyes and a nasty little mouth twisted into a grin.

"I'm the leprechaun..."

A guttering scream of pain and terror briefly knifed through the midnight air.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the North Atlantic, the brave men of the USS Hindenburg were defending democracy...

A slow mumer began to spread around the house.
Peater Finaly shouted "GET THE LEPRICORN" and a mad rampaging mob ran out of the house brandshing axes, knifes, guns, bombs, bones, blood, terrerts, tv`s, computers, goldust, cheese, cats, news presnters, nuclear bombs and anything else that was around at the time.

Meanwhile, in France...

...Pierre - Peter's distant cousin from a liaison during the Great War (is that an oxymoron or what) - was marinating some escargot for a dinner party he was having the next night. The garlic was especially strong and his eyes were watering so much it was as if he was crying. A single tear slid down the side of his nose...