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

There she stood, in the street.
Sing a song of sixpence.
it might just be a one-shot deal.
'help I'm a rock!'
look out.
It sure is a drag being a rock.
Explosions like a dental floss

Pineapple trundled slowely onwards as the desicated remains of yesterdays hopes was tipped unceramonally into the dustbin of teh bunnies. The pizza won't rise again, as the trowel hammers hand descends to the pavement on foot. Lonley as a dustcart the badgere wondered, pondering the clouds. And then as if from a doorway that opened onto the street, a dozen horse-back riding larmas exploded onto the scene scattering the tables and nontables alike as they careered past the badger and threw themselves at a large building, smashing thir existances into pieces on the hard stone surface.
The badger looked at this, nodded and drove off to the corner shop to buy some peanuts.

Whooooa... this is some seriously weird stuff, man.
It's like, llamas on horseback, man, and the rocks, and the badgers, it's like they're all inside my head, man! What did you put in that tea?

Badgers! Badger tea! oh, and by the way; they are in your head now!!!! and there in mine too!!!! and they won't leave the lampposts and swampcreatures that live in my head alone! its an awful racket in the morning I can say!

Ho yus.

Oh, don't incoursge her! I mean me. Don't incourage me. Yes. Quiet now, I'm not talking to you. No, I---never mind. You just keep making those faces and I'll keep writing this post and we'll see who climbs up the lamppost with a string of banana badgers in one hand and-----hey! Stop that! I'm trying to get to a point here, can't you see? Alright, alright, let me just hit the Post Message button and then we'll talk, okay? Great

::With thick fake Scottish accent ala John Cleese on MPFC::


GRREEAT!

Jest GRREEAT!

There was a badger at the corner of the street this morning, begging and trying to cadge cigarettes, I think he wasn't there long the lamppost seemed to have carried he off to the swampcreatres for some obscene thing to occur, probably involgin pertunia's

Involving Pertunia's what?

No, not another blonde! I can't handle two cases at the same time. A straightjacket, now. Where is my straight jacket? Don't mind which colour, blue or white purple or green. Wait, wait.
Well, it's not at the same time is it? One is in the seventies the other in the sixties. Hmm, spoilt for choise. Well, so far so good.
I go and have a peep at the sixties one. Hope she's still there.

*Whisper* Theyre after me. I saw them. Lampposts everywhere!

Watch their eyes; for they always point down, the eyes always point down, and what is down? it is the streetness on which we walk, and on which they watch with their eyes that always point down, following you as you follow what you believe to be a path you have chosen, guideing you, directing you, controlling you, manipulating you, watching you, following you as you follow the route they guide you to, direct you to, make you go to, where they want, what they want when they want it and always the downwards eyes, never skywards, always on you always following direction and controling you and they arn't even the thing to be really wrorried about; its that which comes out of the speed bumps after dark that is the real fear, so despicible that its name cannot be mentioned, its face canot be seen, its preence not known, till it is known to you for when it wishes it to be so it is so and of it you can never tell, yet even as the eyes downards watch you they watch and see and control all that is to be controlled

VROOOOM, VRROOOOOOOM, full throttle. Dr. Vibenstein, would you be so kind to give your diagnose? As for your lovely wife, she really is a peach! Walking in her flowery dress through the garden her tiny feet with the perfect toes in her sensible shoes. Her previous blonde her carressed by the summerwind, not having a clue of what is going on in the world protected as she is by insurance policies, mortgages and your very fat wallet. Oh yus, Dr. Vibenstein, 'I am blinded by the daisies in yooour yaahhaaard.'

The wheelbarrow! the Wheelbarrow! see how it slinks into the sea! no no no! no more wheelbarrow slinking today!

I don't see a wheelbarrel anywhere.

Daisies.

I'm not a doctor of medicine, you know.

Me neither... I'm a Doktor of Forbidden Sciences.

Really, I have the diploma to prove it!


Get yours here:

http://www.subgenious.com

Or better yet, spell it correctly and go here: http://www.subgenius.com

But Dr. Vibenstein, so much the better

For me the important thing is you have a nice long intimate chat with our ferret-faced badger on two legs and that you are married to a sweet badgere previous blond, with two pups and a dog.

Now please, obligize me.

*nods sagely

Fine, fine, in that case I shall fulfill my duty and offer unto you my sincerest and most insignificantly obtuse and yet at the same time somehow... what was the question again?