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

Unable to swim, the sheep turned and bound back to the seal.

"Pinniped!", nothing, "PINNIPED!", still nothing.

The sheep bit the seal's ear, (taking care this time not to bite the ear right off). But still nothing.

All Pinniped heard was Pingu. Calling him down through layer after layer of glacier ice, through frozen millennium after frozen millennium of time. He was far out of reach of the African sun. The only light here was blind and cold, refracted though thousands of planes of ice.

The sheep jumped up and down, circled him this way, then that way. "Piinnnipeddd!"

The seal stirred.

A crescendo of excitement was imminent, and all around the ambient African air buzzed alive with the rhythmic swell of Rimskij-Korsakov as a cliche of killer-bees tinkled with the autochthonous ebony and ivory.

***

With about four furlongs to go, Hypatia was cutting a fine dash aboard the black and white filly Orchid. Coming up on the inside rail was the Jazzme riding what was looking increasingly like something that could win the Turner Prize followed by Boots the Hound, Pimms Lettuce just bob-bob-bobbin along, and bringing up the rear, as was his wont, Trout Montague and a Barrel Full of Laughs.

***

In pursuit of their friends, Pinniped and Jodan positively gazelled along the bank of the Zambezi, passing by the great statue, that stands sentinel over the Devil's Cataract, and on to the iron bridge that straddles the great river and the smoke that thunders.

"Who was that?" panted Jodan

"Dr. Livingstone, I presume," replied the gallant little Seal. "Now, out of my way, irksome X-tourists", he commanded to the oakley-clad grunge-monkeys that loitered at mid-span.

And with that, Pinniped secured himself, Jodan and Waz to one of the bungie-cords, and prepared to leap.

***

Of course, Jodan was always scared of heights and was rather annoyed that he had been put in this situation.
He looked down.

Every guide he had ever read about getting over his fear always told him not to look down. They just didn't tell him how not to look down.

"Let's get this over with" Jodan said, looking around and realizing that Waz and Pinniped had just shoved them off...

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Yyyeeeeooowwwwwwwwwwwoooowwwwwww" screeched Waz, who had a fear of being secured to pieces of elastic.

Wheeeeeeeeee! laughed Hypatia as she road the back of the fussily-clad Orchid. Jazzme steaked nearer and Hypatia reached out and helped him board the back of the whale.

Whooooohoooooo! Should have brought my cowboy hat.

What's that you said? What waterfall?

Yeeeeeeee - haaaa!

'Sh*t' shat the dog...I never did like heights. 'I's all that bl***y whale's fault, that's the last time I ever swim with a lisping can of dog food....B*****KS!

If the roar from the waterfall hadn't drowned out the sound, the members of the party dangling from the bungee cord would have heard the approaching helicopter and not been quite so surprised when, James Bond-like, Wolfgang leaned out of his pilots seat and rescued Hypatia and Jazzme just seconds before the hapless Orchid plunged over the falls.

"Where to, folks?"

"Don't you think we should land and make sure the others are ok?" querried the still dripping Hypatia.

"This is a big helicopter," Jazzme said. "Hugh as a matter of fact.I'm sure there's room for everyone. Even Orchid."

The Apache circled the riverbank until finding a suitable landing spot. Wolfgang sat it down and waited for the others to make an appearance. One by one they straggled aboard, even Waz, who had worn herself out with all the recent flying and directing.

Orchid had made quite a landing at the bottom of the falls and was a little dazed, but otherwise ok. Unfortunately, however, her lovely tutu had been lost.

"Don't worry, purty lady, we'll find you a Harem costume when we get to Cairo. That is where this tale is leading, isn't it?"

The giant helicopter lifted off and headed toward Cairo.

It was good to have another person on the journey thought the hound who wasn't quite sure he was ready to skip the whole continent just yet.
Hypatia had issues with Cairo and he'd always promised himself he would do the cape to Cairo.
The others could take care of her for a day or two...time for boots to go chasing rabbits.

'We'll have an ice cold in Alex folks' he barked as he dropped from the chinook

'I've got history in Zaire and the Congo to catch up on...see you in a few days....look after Woolfgang!'

Hypatia watched the hound as he leaped from the rising copter.

"I hope he'll be ok. But at least we'll have dry feet for a few days."

Jazz settled back in the seat, glad to be on board this huge air bus and very, very thankful for it's timely appearance. And also for the gallant way that Hypatia had pulled him on board the seal's back, thank you darling he muttered through the kisses he was planting on her kneck.

He had no stomach for going over a waterfall, especially without a barrel (surely that was Niagra falls?) and a little disappointed that his great work of art was now on it's way to the ocean. He hadn't even got a picture of a rhino, sorry Hypatia.

But now for Cairo, he soothed away Hypatia's fears of the city. There had been riots in the streets in 1946 when he was there, which the RAF had finally resolved by firing on the crowds and the army had broken up by sending in a tank or two. But that was long ago,before the fateful invasion of Egypt by the British, stopped by United States intervention, and the terrorist attack around the great pyramid was also some years ago. Cairo was now a peaceful City. But it was not politic to mention these happenings as the natives were a very volatile race. A friendly Saieeda goes a long way.

'Things have changed a bit since 1945 Hypatia, but the Pyramids are worth a trot around and the museum is the worst in the world...thank god the best artifacts are now residing in London.'

Hypatia tucked the postcard of Kinshashe airport into her pocket...no need to antagonise Jazz but it was good to know that boots was on the move despite the fact that the postcard had a slightly urinous odour to it.

Waz hovered over the Phileae temple. She doubted the dog would bother with it having discounted Abu Simbel as a recently transformed man made temple and knowing how it despised history being moved but she knew she had to keep a look out for the bitch.

Trout was taking tea in the old Cataract...on the lower terrace. He was after all well travelled and knew that the upper terrace was a) too hot and b) far too anal for real journeymen.
He inhaled the deep pinapple and cinnamon perfume from the hooker pipe, wishing he were in the souk with the hound who knew where the true soul of egypt was to be found, but he revelled in the architecture of the dining room and tread softly as he passed both Agatha Christie's and the Aga Khan's suits...the dog he knew had peed in both...the hound, albeit on walkabout, understood Africa.

Hypatia grimmaced at Jazzme's attempts to order. Cairo was tourist city inc...not exactly what she had hoped for and certainly not accomadating to any kind of preparation. Perhaps they should have jumped ship with the hound....

......Perhaps not. Boots' Swahili wasn't bad but here in the congo with a gun stuck up his nose, his liguistic skills had deserted him...perhaps he did need a friend

Supine, Trout Montague caressed the hookah; the innuendo was literally gift-wrapped. As was the presence of the camp djinnee, who appeared (ali-kazam) in a puff of smoke, baggy gold-lame pants, pointy-shoes, a baby-pink sleeveless waistcoat and matching turban ...

Hypatia and Jazz explored the souk with child like relish, revelling in the sounds and smells. The burning sugar spinning over pastries that were destined to ruin a waistline forever. The sweet smell of mint tea and the heady aroma of incense. The crackling of radios each tuned to a different station, the jostling of hand drawn carts and the clatter and rage when their precious cargo of fruits and pans fell to the smooth stone floorin unhappy unison.

'I'm sure this is the right bar' thought the dog. He tried to lift the bandage over his eye but it wasn't worth the effort the pain was intense. Lucky escape though the Congo bullet has just skimmed his forhead. Still that was all finished with now. He took a deep drink of the ice cold beer.

'What's keeping them?' he wondered.

"Jazz, Dear, wasn't that boots going into that bar?"

"Couldn't have been," Jazz replied. "That hound was much older than boots - and only had one eye."

"I'm sure you're right. But it did look a lot like our hound. And that bar reminds me of something. I wish I could remember what."

She tried not to dwell on past memories of the city, but an occcassional sight or sound sent a shudder down her spine. "Where shall we go next? Just not to any cathedrals, please. I'll be happy to tour French cathedrals, but none in Cairo. Never again in Cairo."

Jazz took Hypatia's arm and steered her toward a poorly lit shop with an odd assortment of artifacts and Oriental imports arranged haphazardly in the window. "Have you ever smoked a hookah?"

The Speak-Your-Weight-Machine frowns and pins another postcard to one of the more substantial interior walls of the Pier. There's quite a collection now.

Alberta is looking wistful, hopeful even. She catches his eye.

"Can I?"

The grizzled monster must be having one of his softer moments. "Oh, go on then", he growls eventually.

The albatross doesn't need telling twice. She is aloft, and already a receding speck of white.

Speak bellows out something about festive greetings, but his words are lost in the polar wind.

'Good to see you phocoid' said the hound handing Pin a more than welcome ice cold pint.
'who are you with now? CNN? or just freelancing? I see the weight is still with you...what's this polar wind stuff? It's heading for the nineties in case you haven't noticed and a sandstorm is forecast. Can we keep Alberta with us for a while? She's always good at blind navigation.'

The speak your weight machine sulked in the corner knowing that few of the assorted journalists gave a damn about their weight. They gave little more than a damn about the unfolding war that may or may not be their reality...food however was a passion and after that any anestheic that took away the shell encroached reality. It was sound to have riends in Egypt....

Wolfgang was at his chameleonic best, impersonating a street vendor/opium smoker/dealer in blackmarket Eighteenth Dynasty artifacts.
He was distressed when Jazzme and Hypatia entered the establishment of a particularly nasty Scythian camel driver/tour guide/hashish dealer, but had no way to warn them without giving away his position.

He was also disturbed by the presence of inquisitive journalists and had never been particularly fond of vultures. This mission had been a trial from the beginning.

He noticed most of the ill-matched travelling companions exiting a seedy bar and wondered if they intended to join the ill-advised seniors on their search for altered states of consciousness and a decent hotel meal. He couldn't help thinking about the last time he had visited Sea World and sincerely wished the assorted seals, fish, whales and water birds were locked up in a theme park where they belonged. The desert was no place for them.

As for The Speak Your Weight Machine - a good session with a screw driver and a pair of pliars sould improve it's disposition.

Hypatia was actually quite familiar with water pipes. She wondered how much of her past was going to catch up with her here in Cairo.

She noticed an elderly man loking at her and Jazzme curiously as though he recognized one of them. She tried to place the man but failed. If she had ever met him, he had changed considerably. Perhaps it was Jazz that he knew.

Her suspicions were verified when Jazzme nervously took her arm and led her out of the shop into the street.

'Pssst' Whispered the hound.

'Not again?' said Waz

'I'm not talking to you' the dog snarled. 'Look it's Hypatia and Jazz! This way you two.'

They looked at the dog blankly. Could this really be boots?

'It is me...look!' He took off the bandage and a couple of decades and, just in case they still weren't convinced, pee'd on both the sets of rather fetching Morrocan sandals adorning their feet.

'Quickly! Follow me. Wolfgang is standing by with the chopper, looking a bit like a fish out of water. No that's not right, he's unhappy with fish being out of water, Trout's trying to explain that it's perfectly normal but you know what these Arians are like. Pin has stuffed Orchid into an alibaba basket...she thinks she's a snake now - don't even ask, it's all that wretched speak your weight machine's fault. Who are these men that you appear to be following Hyptia? We have to be careful. Now that the paparazzi know that Orchid is here half of 'Hello' magazine are camped out in our bar. Waz is doing a quick Rekkie of the city but she reckons our best chance is to hitch a ride with a local camel train.'

'Well let's get to the station then!' Jazz tightened his grip on the lovely Hypatia's arm, shook the excess urine off his sandals and walked...