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

Hi there

Just had a look at your GuideML. Here's the changes you need to make - just cut and paste the whole lot in




Dear diary!

I am born!

3rd day of the month Nissan, 2720 B.C.

All heroes when babies are reported to have killed one or more snakes, to everyones surprise, only I don't know why anyone should be surprised, like I said, all heroes do it.

So, can as well get it over with.

Anyway, there I was, contemplatin’ my two thirds divinity, you know, and my general greatness, plannin’ world domination, and goin' *goo goo goo*, when slinkin’ towards my little cot came those regicidally minded cobras, out to do somethin’ terminal to my future majesty. I have a good idea who sent 'em, so watch out, you! Once I can toddle I’ll come after you and stab your ankle. Very well, the moment they poked their heads into my cradle of empire, I just gripped those long necks and throttled 'em. Heroic standard procedure, so I needn't waste words about it. Man of few words anyway.

But you feel free to make a song about it with about 1000 verses.

4th day of the month Nissan, 2720 B.C.

Looky goo, there's another snake, of a type new to me, but my semidivinity tells me that these really need keen watching. Cobras are harmless by comparison, not too mention far less exciting. Also I have to grow up some more before I get my piddy paws around these ones necks, not to press too hard, mind. These snakes have a sweet kinda poison, I know that already, did I mention I'm a bright kid, two thirds omniscent, so the really important things I already know.

*Eeek, curse, bawl*

She’s slopped some cold water into my cot on the pretext of bathing me. Ok woman, this point goes to you. I intend to even the score some day. You just gave me an inhibition in the whatnot, or was it an exhibition, anyway, a complex of some sort, that's what you did. And when there's a king with a complex, better run for cover everyone.

29rd day of the month Shevat, 2717 B.C.

I'm growing up fast. All heroes do. I'm a really good size now, just perfect to casually wander in under women's skirts.

That washer lady's been at moms perfume again.
She’s hollerin‘ on about her ankles, and how she’s a decent woman... ankles! Long ankles she has then, is all I can say.

Anyway, I'm growing up. Bad thing is that soon I won't be able to stand up under a woman's skirt without bein' obvious. Good thing is, there will be greater things than snakes and washer women to spar with. Dragons and...well, the dragon equivalent for washer women, seven heads and if I’m lucky...Here she comes again. Enjoyed our last run in, from the ankles to the finish. She's in for another surprise.

Look, no hands!

25th day of the month Elul, 2708 B.C.

Drat it! Mom's on to me. I'm to learn to be a king she says. Day after day now a lot of greybeards come and talk at me, grey men, grey talk, grey every day. I should invent the emancipation of women, that's what I should do, so I could have lady teachers. AND it would be the one thing guaranteed to piss off the maximum possible number of people, so I'm really tempted, if just to see the greybeards go down with a heart attack, gasping out the words tradition and sacrilege with their dyin’ sherry breath.
Like old Utnapishtim here, witterin’ on about history, time and eternity. Too yawn-making for words.
And there is little Muzzie, peeping in and making faces at me, feeling safe because old Utna got me pinned. Oh that slippery tunic, keeps slippin down one shoulder, then the other. Gentleman that I am, I must go to her aid at once!
Hey oldster, sure you hanker after the time when women had use for you, you have my sympathy, but can you drone on about it to somebody else? I suggest the other greybeards. What's past is past. I am young and have all the time in the world, and as for eternity, I'm two thirds divine, and gettin’ hold of the last third should take care of your eternity.
There he's gone off at last with his damn, bloody, boring scrolls, grumbling that one day I would walk to the end of the world to talk to him. Oh I'll walk to the end of the world all right and back again, just for the hell of it, but not to talk to old Utna about the time when he was young and women... He can go rot at the end of the world. And that ethics teacher can keep him company.
*DASH after Muzza*

1st day of the month Tishri, 2708 B.C.

Heureka! Turns out growing up is not that bad, no, not that bad after all. Ok, I'm loosing that singularly convenient just-fitting-snugly-under-a-skirt size.
But!
WILL you LOOK what I found higher up?
Oh, there is that old man calling order again. C'mon, you've had your day! Now the day is mine!
Mine, mine, all mine!

6th day of the month Iyar, 2705 B.C.

You'd think the old geezer had learned by now to be careful with sharp implements, or how did he get so old? Never point a blade at anybody, even only verbally, if you're not ready to use it without the least consideration for others. Or able, old man. I hope I'm not obscure in any way.
That reminds me, I must get me a longer sword, to proceed from snakes and washerwomen to dragons and virgin princesses. Mind you, personally I prefer wenches who know exactly what they are doin’, but the virgin princess seems to be another of these heroic conventions, and the virginity thingy is easily remedied anyway.
But I digress. Again. First deal with dragon, then deal with virgin princess.
Better have that sword three sizes larger, just like the trousers mom got me, because I'm growing fast.

I am king of Uruk

3rd day of the month Tishri, 2700 B.C.

Complaints, complaints! First my teachers, they call themselves advisors now, but still trying to push me round. Relying rather thoughtlessly on the safety they think their grey hair should afford them they called me an ignoramus, lout, peasant, illiterate. So to show them their several errors, I threw them from the balcony into the pool in mid harangue, locked the door and then I sat me down and worked through all those dusty scrolls, each and every bloody one of 'em. Callin' me an illiterate! I’ll show you!
And would you believe it, I did find something useful in the oldest and most tattered and stained scroll. About the king's duty and prerogative of the First Night. Personally I prefer the benefits of experience, but if duty calls, well, it calls. Actually, such a law makes perfect sense to me. I mean, look at a potbellied merchant takin’ a nubile girl for fourth wife just because he can afford it. But what about her, is that supposed to be all for her? All she’ll ever know of men?
Well, well, according to the greybeards one must abide by tradition, mustn't one? So I did. Should have heard 'em howl!
Same with the city walls.
"You are a bad king, they scoffed."
"You're not governing us!" they complained.
"Letting all run to seed, look at those crumbling walls!" they griped.
So I had them rebuilt, those walls, record time!
All I got for my efforts was being berated by the unions for breach of this and trespass against that. Could they all make up their petty minds if they want city walls or if they want to be murdered in their beds by nomad raiders?
By way of saying thanks for sound city walls and healthy offspring, the good citizens of Uruk call me a tyrant and exploiter.
In the streets of my city!
In my own throne hall!
In the Bull and Bear! Wanted to bar me, can you beat that! Bar my majesty, in my own city.
I hung the union representatives from my brand new city walls upside down. That had the pleasing effect of reversing their tune.
Now I'll go to the Bull and Bear, have a stiff drink, have a look at their new furniture, and if I'm lucky little Muzzie is there too.

3rd day of the month Sivan, 2699 B.C.

Parents! Today Mum came for the express purpose of going over and over everything again, because the priests had been complaining. As if you can expect objectivity on the subject of my personality from people who I just dunked in the pool.
Now about what she refers to as my 'playing all day'. It's part of my job description, as that tattered scroll on the subject of Jus Primae Noctis (yes the same scroll the priests forgot to cross reference and include in my studies, although to judge by the look of it, they seem to have studied it a lot themselves in the quiet hours of the night) documented with rare clarity for so old a publication that it is my duty as a king to tackle that *er* tedious *er* task. That's historical! One time I'm to honour tradition, the next time not. Who gets to decide which in each particular instance?
Ok, I will say for mom, that she alone did not gripe about my brand new and improved city walls. No, no. She didn't even look at my feat of military architecture. Went on and on about handcream. And I suppose I should be grateful for that, although I didn’t quite grasp the turn this conversation took.

Still 3rd day of the month Sivan, 2699 B.C.

Going to the tavern dressed in nothing but my loincloth.
The landlord doesn't mention dress code or the fact that I'm supposed to be banned.
Maybe because the last time he was tactless to my majesty, he accidentally broke his nose and owin’ to the same accident had to buy all his bar furniture new. Takes the stuffing out of a man, pay for new furniture, the chariot, the mortgage, holiday for the family at the Red Sea....if you want to be safe of revolutions and upheavals, just make sure people have matching curtains, kids at highschool, insurance policies, and a loan on everything they own.
Played musical chairs with Muzzie.

3rd day of the month Av, 2699 B.C.

If you think I like beating up on little ones, you're mistaken. All to the contrary, it bores me out of my skull.
How I wish for a barkeep of enough stature to throw me out the door of the tavern, when I behave drunk and disorderly, or at least one who gives it a good try.
How I wish for a husband of sufficient guts to haul me offa his wife bodily, instead of running to the priests and yammer! That can't be what survival of the fittest means, can it now?
Not my fault that every man in Uruk is littler than I. Not theirs either. But why don't they gang up? Take the workers who will be bullied by me into day after day of toil on the defense works of the city. They're tired, it's too hot, their women are all alone, with nobody looking after them but me, they all deserve a rest. So the moment they see me, they do the mass scene, muttering, complaining, and some revoluzzers standing well towards the back shout nonsense about tyranny, freedom, peoples rule. I never know who the agitators are, and I don't care. I plant my feet on the ground, a little apart, cross muscular arms over broad chest, look at the milling crowd steadily with a tiny smile on my lips to encourage them to just come on.
But do they?
Nooo! They back off, little tails well tucked between bandy legs, and shuffle to work. Same scenario every time, but never ceases to amaze me, considering that they're ten times the number of me and my guards, and are equipped with shovels and picks, nice lengths of pipes, and lots of stones lying around for free. Makes me despair of mankind.
I assure you, I'd be the last king on earth to cry affront to my majesty.
Either they kill me or I kill them.
It's that simple.
I enjoy a good fight.
But do I get one?

dear Redders, you is a brick, you sure are! But it still don't work, with all them p's you put in!

Hmmmm it should as I created a test entry to make sure it all worked. You can see it at A2338779

Have you checked the box marked GuideML at the bottom and hit the "change style" button ?

hey THANKS! Really, very much obliged. I was biting my towel already!

My pleasure my dear

*doffs hat*

Looks good now, thanks to you!