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

...You're 26 years of age, weigh 80 kilos, can bench press 3 times your own weight and carried a 100 kilo mountaineering back-pack on a nonstop 10 hour forced march without falling out...

...the thing you may find most difficult getting used to on a two gravity planet is the underwear you'll need.

...regulations require you always wear arch supports and cushion sole socks in your shoes, shoes must provide ankle support, also you'll need a truss and back brace and must wear them at all times during your active day...

...no running the first six weeks except on the tread-mill in the gymnasium with a paramedic in attendance...

...all of the gym supervisors are paramedics or higher...

...you must make safe lifting practices an issue of compulsive habit, or you will not last long...

...if you stay in an elevated gravity environment much beyond the age of forty, your back and knee joints will go out on you and suffer irreparable damage...

...we'll sign you aboard for twelve years, unless medical problems mandate your evacuation sooner...

[I was reading about the young women in African countries who regularly walk long distances with yup to 12 gallons of water balanced on their heads. As it turns out, in later life they are apt to suffer spinal injuries from all that weight.]

This was a fact of life in classical Greece as well, the many sculptures celebrating caryatids, or water bearers are founded in the way people lived.

Reasonably good plumbing, at least for the affluent, was a Roman innovation.

The first Roman fountains, as a matter of fact, were actual water supplies for the local tenement dwellers.

http://www.who.int/water_sanitation_health/mdg1/en/index.html

It's possible the Romans just stole that technology from cultures that went before them.

http://www.theplumber.com/#history

I knocked on the door. It opened a crack, and I heard a man saying, "It's sunny in Philadelphia."

"It's funny in Sillydelphia," I replied.

This was apparently the right response. The door opened wide enough for me to enter. I found myself in a room full of people who seemed to be auditioning for something. When my name was called, I was allowed into a small theater and led to the stage. "Let me hear your act," said a man who was sitting in the front row.

"Act?" I said. "I thought this was where they were handing out the free lunches."

"Who told you that?" the man asked.

"Elvis. He comes over with Jimmy Hoffa and a couple of extraterestrials on Tuesdays to play poker. They said the lunches here were free."

"Okay,you've blown my cover," said the man. "Here's your free lunch. What would you like to drink with it, hemlock tea or purple Kool-Aid?"

I had never set foot in the palace, but my brother Bentley went there
every day. He had to, as he was the curator in charge of a special
subterranean collection that could be accessed only by members of the
Royal Family. It helped that he and I were distant relatives of the Royal Family. Today he agreed to sneak me in so that he could show
me some super-secret items.

It was a small room that resembled a garage more than anything else.
protective cloths were draped over everything so as to prevent dust from settling on the objects beneath them.

"Prepare to meet Queen Victrola," Bentley announced with a grin as he
uncovered an old victrola and proceeded to wind it up. Suddenly I could hear a voice that bore an uncanny resemblance to Queen Victoria. "We are not amused at being disturbed, Bentley," said the voice.

I was too shocked to say anything, so Bentley let me in on the secret: "The Saxe-Coburgs had a family curse that played out from time to
time," he said. "One member of the family was turned into an appliance in each generation. This is Queen Victoria. She didn't die, but became a victrola. Whenever her children or grandchildren needed her advice, they would come down here and wind her up."

"But, but...." I protested.

"And this is her grandson Florence," he said, uncovering a washing machine. Family members would come down with coins and loads of laundry, and start him up. They could get advice from him and clean clothing, all at the same time. They called him Flowrinse...."

"And what member of our generation has been affected by the curse?" I asked,
though it was becoming clear that bentley himself was the victim. He was rapidly
turning into a Bentley automobile before my eyes.....

The limey allowed himself a feeling of regret as he screwed the silencer onto the muzzle of his Beretta.

On a personal level he was very fond of America and Americans. What was not to like about a country that had made itself an economic giant, a super power, the world's policeman.

He always felt that if you had to have a superpower, it was so much more reassuring to have one that, for all its faults, was still infused with a belief in the rights of man.

But the British Monarchy had existed for 2,000 years. It had survived civil war and bloody inter family rivalries, the rise of parliamentary democracy and the invention of the gutter press.

Despite its anachronistic position in a modern world it was still an institution beloved of the majority of the British population and definitely not a subject for foreigners to poke fun at.

'Sorry, Paul,' he said to himself as he lined up the gun on the back of head of the famed writer of short shorts.

"The Legend Of Fuzzy Wuzzy Of The Bigfoot".....




(The lines below are intended to be supported with cartoon illustrations, described under 'I', text following 'T'.)




(T) Fuzzy Wuzzy was a Grizzly Bear cub.

(I) Portrait of Fuzzy as a cuddly little infant.

(T) Orphaned by a terrible forest fire...

(I) Picture of forest fire blazing in the background, Fuzzy separated from Mama bear and Papa bear on the fringes of the flame.

(T) Fuzzy was adopted by a Tribe of Sasquatch...

(I) Fuzzy being found by by the family of Sasquatch in the aftermath of the fire.

(T) and reared as one of their own.

(I) Fuzzy at play with the Sasquatch family.

(T) Discovered by a team of anthropologists doing studies of the bigfoot...

(I) Fuzzy being discovered by the anthropologists.

(T) Fuzzy was rescued and returned to civilization...

(I) Fuzzy being introduced to the world at a news conference.

(T) Where he went to work a paparazzi photographer for the tabloids.

(I) Fuzzy pictured dressed in a Tweed sports jacket with a battered fedora hat, holding his camera in front of him.

(T) Fuzzy Wuzzy saved his money and later went into timbering...

(I) Fuzzy illustrated against a backdrop of a pristine wilderness environment.

(T) with a fanatical zeal, determined to end the scourge of forest fire forever.

(I) Picture of Fuzzy with his back to the viewer in 3/4 presentation, looking at a scene of clear cut devastation with evident satisfaction.




...this one is original with me, if somewhat inspired by some of the Phillip Jose Farmer treatments on Tarzan.

If you've seen it elsewhere, they got it from me....

"There you go again," the raygun scolded the shooter who was aiming at Paulh's head.

Oh,no! Could it be? American presidents were *also* turning into appliances! "I paid for this microphone," Raygun continued as he proceeded into a monologue about his youth in Hollywood, his tenure as the host of "Death Valley Days" and his years as governor of California.
Paulh heard Raygun's words and came over to comfort the shooter, despite knowing the shooter's evil intentions.

"It's all right," he said. "I like the Royal Family as much as anyone. Most of the members that were mentioned in my story were made up. As for Raygun, his ammunition was always just words. And then there's Hoover, who has helped keep many a house clean."

OOh some creative writing!
*subscribes*

The plucky British agent winced as he struggled against his bonds (no pun intended, he pluckily thought to himself).

Raygun's words had cut deep and he felt himself growing fainter as the wounds continued to bleed.

Personfully (as befitted a modern man) he struggled to retain consciousness as he looked up at the smiling ex-colonial standing in front of him.

'How did you find out about Florence,' he gasped, 'that is an even bigger secret than the early warning radar strapped to Prince Charles' head'.

"We don't ordinarily welcome people from other planets this quickly,
but you seem exemplary in every way, Mr. Lectromag," said the Head
of Interplanetary Immigration. "Your skill set is off the charts, your
character couldn't be finer, and your health is superb."

"Thank you, sir," Mr. Lectromag said. "I look forward to living on Earth."

"There's just one matter I'd like to ask you about. When we asked to list reasons for wanting to leave your home planet, you said, 'Somewhere there's a meteor with my name on it.' We were wondering if you had ever had any paranoid tendencies?"

"No, that's just cold hard fact," Mr. Lectromag replied. "The people on my planet have strong magnetic fields. There are hundreds of millions of space rocks orbiting the planet, and they fall on us with great regularity. Once they get close to the ground, our magnetic fields attract them, so they almost always land on people, killing them immediately."

"Well, fortunately you won't run into that problem here on Earth, Mr. Lectromag." The head of Interplanetary Immigration extended his hand to welcome the new citizen. Something was nagging at his mind, though, as he watched Mr. Lectromag leave the office. Suddenly he realized what the problem was. He rushed to his window and was just in time to see Mr. Lectromag cross the street. "Don't get too close to the cars, Mr. Lectromag!" he shouted. "They're metal, and your magnetism will attract them."

But it was too late......

He slept in the loft section of the fire station. His red suspenders were fastened to his pants, which were hung on the bed post so that they would be ready to throw on when the fire alarm rang. Alas, one night he was so fast asleep that he didn't hear the alarm. His pants heard it, though. They jumped up,joined with his shirt and shoes and fireman's suit, and slid down the pole to the fire truck which waited below. With the hat pulled down over his jacket, the other firemen didn't realized he wasn't in it.

Too late he woke up, realizing that he had missed the others. He threw on what he could find and raced after the truck. While the others were distracted, he grabbed his clothing and threw it on, just in time to receive the congratulations of the fire chief for saving three children from the blaze. His clothing had performed heroically, and no one ever guessed that he wasn't wearing it at the time...

He may not have been in his clothes but there's definitely at least a book of short stories for children in them.

[Thanks, Pebblederook. I've been negligent about writing down my story ideas lately, but as always I have plenty of ideas banging around in my skull ].

...shades of Warhammer 40,000(ad)/World of Warcraft Eldar aspect warrior armor...

"I see you've already noticed the elephant in the room. He thinks he lives here, and who are we to argue? he doesn't fit through the front door, so it's plausible that he got in while the house was being built.


Oh, he's signalling that he wants another drink. I have to go to the cellar to bring up another keg of his favorite wine. I'll be back in a few minutes....

What is cross between a builder and a snake?
A boa constructor.