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

I hadn't been home more than two minutes before I realised that something was happening. The helicopter had only just soared away from the West Lawn, and the concubines were still arguing about whose turn it was to administer the massage.

In the centre of the foyer stood the palanquin and one of the Harleys. I nodded approvingly. The servants had been instructed to make both ready when visitors arrived. I chose the bike, and rode at a leisurely pace down the mile or so of marbled corridors.

Alighting in the Visitors' Wing, I sensed the fumes of a fine cigar emanating from the Red Drawing Room. Beyond the door, a figure in a garish silk dressing gown was swirling his brandy glass pensively.

"My Dear AB", I greeted him. "To what do we owe this honour?"

My father filled another glass, and offered it to me with a wry smile. (He had somewhere found a rather nondescript fin du siecle bottle, and it was completely unnecessary to go around pouring one's own drinks, but I let this pass).

"I was lurking this morning", he announced theatrically. "Trout's back".

"Oh", I said. "Is that all?"

Some Elvis, some lurk and others return every so often;

our words here remain...

'The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it

-- Omar Khayyam'

It is easy to leave off contributing for a time, it is far harder to let go of true friends-- even in a virtual community.

F S

Omar Khayam?

Didn't he invent the electric shaver? Or did he just like it so much, he bought the company?

...ah, those were the days, when we pretended to be poor...

... as opposed to now when you can freely admit to the same?

Poor at what ?

Paying attention

Paying attention to what ?

Sorry?

Sorry about what ?

Pretending to pay.

No payment necessary it's yours to give.