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

..furiously...

...and in burst a sailor in a natty little uniform
"We're under attack!" he said "Prepare for torpedo fi..."
At that moment the whole wessel (soory vessel) boomed and shook and everyone was flung across the room in that entertaining Star Trek kinda way.
"Oh No!" said the Natty Sailor (whose name was Tim) "We've been hit! The captain will have to surface and surrender!"
The wessel (sod it) lurched upward, with a queasy elevator feeling, making everyone's ears pop. When it surfaced BB rushed with Tim to the tower, opened the hatch, looked out and saw...

..the eye of a purple... bluish... ..something.

Tim pointed at it in dismay...

Billy-Bob and Tim the Natty sailor pulled Poppa Smurf into the conning tower. He was wearing a frogman's outfit.
'Completely senile, you know,' mouthed Tim.
They removed Popa Smurf's facemask, untangling it from his long beard.
"You always manage to escape at the most inconvenient times, don't you?" said Tim, staring into Poppa Smurf's confused , apologetic eyes, "While we're being attacked by a

....Giant, balding, incontinent chipmunk and a small man in a purple spandex suit! Its Mr....

Robinson!"
Tim kicked open the hatch down from the conning tower and dragged Poppa Smurf below. Billy-Bob leaned over the rail and winked to Arthur who had been the first of the crew, all clad in purple wet-suits, to clamber out of Boutros-Ghali's attack submarine. The sub, which had been disguised as a beaver especially for the mission was spewing foul, yellow liquid into the sea from its bilge pump. Billy-Bob tied off a rope and threw the other end down for the others.

Meanwhile in a cheese warehouse on the banks of the Siennes,

a security guard (named Ben) was marching up and down looking pleased with himself. He

...stood quickly to attention as a sleek, black limosine sailed into the courtyard. It settled itself in the loading bay. The doors were flung open and three heavy and serious looking men emerged, they flanked a discreet character holding what loked like a suitcase under his arm. Together they marched solemnly towards the main warehouse doors. Ben ducked back inside his small hut. On the security-camera screens he could see the men arrive at the top of the stairs and escort the small man into the office. Ben was an uncomplicated man, he did his job and tried his best to remain as unobtrusive and not to have ideas above his station. Still, he was under no illusions that that man had just been brought in for a meeting with Mr Big....

"OK, guys, I've messed it up. Completely. My mother always warned to not go into politics, but I did not listen. So here is my advice for you. Be aware that this is my last act as a politician, so do not forget a single word.
Boutros Boutros-Ghali is _not_ my real name, as you may have imagined already until know. Actually I am some special agent from Bulgaria and my mission is....

....highly classified and top top secret- actually I'm risking mine and all of your lives by telling you this much, but...

"Tell us! Tell us!"
"It's about this cheese smuggling scam, ..."
"Yeah," said Mr Big, confused at the appearence of a cold, disembodied head on his desk.
"Well, we thought you should know,- there isn't actually anything illegal about exporting cheese. That's all. You go to such efforts hiding it in secret compartments in suitcases, putting it in condoms and swallowing it, and all that. It's just cheese, alright?."
Mr Big looked bewildered, but nodded.
"Let's go," said Boutros to his minder, who picked him up and held him under his arm and turned to leave.

Mr Big said, "No! Wait! You haven't told me what...

...you did last summer!"
There was a stunned silence. Everyone tried to look inconspicuous, to avoid the catching the eye of the head...

"Last Summer, yeah.....
I didn't wanted to do it. My guards can approve it, it was an accident. My mother, you know, she really was scary and all this, and then on this hot day in july, I kicked her.
Well, it wasn't my fault, that she let the rope in her hands go. And how could have I known that on the other end of the rope was this alligator.
Hmm, I guess you all know the rest of the story, so let's break up this chit-chat, I'm going to make sure that you all dare not to tell anything about this to anyone right after...

"Right after... I leave I'm going to contact Interpol and the FBI and close down this operation. Smuggling cheese? Honestly! I've never heard of anything so ridiculous.", said Boutros.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you to leave just yet Mr Ghali. No, you see, cheese smugglers we may be, but now that you have seen my face, I am afraid you must die.", said Mr Big. "Grab them."

The door burst inwards and a dozen clownz came dancing in and custard-pied Boustros's van-guard into submission. Mr Big got up from his desk and walked over to where Boutros lay upturned on the floor, he brought his face level with his own. "My face inspires terror in my enimies. My name is feared throughout Mother Russia. You have no fear. You do not yet know my name."

"Mr Big?" said Boutros.

"I have many names.", said Mr Big. "I was an orphan in Moscow in 1944 I was christened by a humble priest working at a small cathedral in the outer districts of the city. He was small man with bad teeth and a penchent for leather overcoats. He gave me first name:

Leicesterschniictch Kitanya-irrania-tatonya-karenska-alisov.

I am known by those who fear me as The Red Leicester."

"I had no idea." said Boutros "Your voice..."

"Accents can be control, records destroyed, wittnesses silenced. You still do not seem to appreciate with whom you are dealing.
I work for the Russian mafia, for the longest time it has been a wish of ours to get our hans on you. It was I who ordered Mr Gonzarooloio to take two bullets to the Lemigton Spa Green, we had hoped that you might have turned up instead of that terrier of your Arthur Robinson. Still that is of little consequence now. Take him down stairs to the Underground Monorail, we are leaving."

Meanwhile back on the sub...

a wise old man called Reginald Derby was helping Tim and Bill/Bob to get some sense out of the crew and to stop the revolting yellow liquid getting into the decompression chamber. He used strange methods to resuscitate the men, but the technique worked and all sat round to listen to the wise old man, the Sage Derby, as he told them tales of what happened down at the bottom of the sea when......

The sub crashed in to an island because no one was looking where it was going. Bill/Bob clmed out of the sub and swam to the surface. they where lying on there backs on the beach when a native tribe apperd out of the forist there leader looked at them boath and said.

"A God from the Sea! Truly it is foretold in our ancient lore! Come - we must worship you! Smother you in gold! Feed you exotic fruits! Offer you the finest virgins!"

Billy-Bob looked dazed, but was ushered to a litter, carried high by the strenght of the thews of the mighty natives, and taken to a clearing on the island where....

...there were lots of little huts and corrals. The natives put him down, and told him...

That a long time ago, The island had worshipped many God's and had been deeply pious. Naturally this led to a lot of theological debates: who had the best deity and so forth. This in turn, had over time, led to a number of academic scuffles and then wars between the tribes and ultimately schisms. The last of which was a fight to the death between two wings of the Church of Qwinxin (lit: 'He who blesseth the Watermelon.') Those who fervently believed In the supreme majesty of Qwinxin and those who didn't and thought that a low level god who occasionally blessed the odd watermelon or two, was something they could rather do without.


Towards the end of the fighting, the pro camp being a moralistic sort, held tought but they felt fair negotiations to convince their bretheren of the correctedness of their arguments and went to bed one fateful night with that rather cosey feel of a good job well done. The other camp having already decided that there wasn't a God had suddenly freed themselves of a thousand years of restricvtive morality and quite frankly saw nothing wrong with ambushing the Pro camp in the dark and letting their enimies experience the joys eternal of life in the everafter. Not for them the cunning argued stance. Just very big knives.

After this glorious military coup the know God-less inhabitants of the island referred to the prophecies of the Elders to see how they should start governing themselves. And lo' it described in fascinating detail how:
"in the yeers that were two followe. wone shal ly on the sande and be most God-like in itts apparel. Kill him immeadiately."

So it was to Bob's general dismay that he was told how he would be 'worshipped' as the new God of the island. They would feed him exotic fruits, the sort that made bits of you go green and black and start smelling faintly of almonds. The finest and purest girls from each of the vilages would come and dance before him while he was tied to a stake just to let him now that this was a as good as it was going to get. And then we shall take you around all of the villages and display you to the tribes so that they may see what happens to false gods. However, the tribes are spread all across the island, making many days travel. So to cover the distance before the Winter they would have to cut him up quite small...

"What about the showers of Gold?" asked Bob meekly.

"Those? said the tribesman who had described to him his fate. "we were just just playin' with ya. You didn't think we ACTUALLY give you our gold did you?"

"Well...Um...I kinda hoped..."

"Tchh! God's they never learn, it's always I want, I want, I want, worship Me, worship Me, worship Me."

The man gestured and Bob was dragged into a hut...