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

Hypatia made herself as comfortable as one can be in an airplane seat. She had a novel to read and a supply of chocolate covered macadamia nuts to munch on. She was still somewhat annoyed at being declared persona non gratis by the Home Secretary, but she supposed rules were rules.

She would miss the troop, even though it was as neurotic a group as she had ever encountered. And she was worried about leaving them in McKenzie Castle. What a dangerous place. She wasn't sure they realized just how dangerous.

Nor was she anxious to go back to her humdrum life in the Ozarks. There were no seals or whales or albatrosses in the Ozarks. The trout were just fish, the sheep didn't march in regiments, and there were no Ali Babba baskets. There was no Jazzme, either.

Of course she wouldn't have to contend with those awful Scottish accents that made it so hard to understand what people were telling her. When she could even hear them. She guessed she was going to have to break down and get her hearing tested. She suspected that she had misunderstood more than one conversation recently. And she did hate misunderstandings and hurt feelings. Yes. She would definitely get her hearing tested.

What on earth was going on? The plane should have lifted off 30 minutes ago. Good grief. Isn't anything going to go right this week? I suppose the plane will be hijacked to the b****y frozen north, with my luck!

Where's an Ali Baba basket when you really need one?

The cabin crew and flight crew are taking it in turns to make announcements about the delay. They sound cool and calm and collected as usual, even slightly bored, but finally the tone of voice indicates some bemusement as the first officer announces:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are not yet able to leave the stand. As previously announced, we we are awaiting the delivery of the catering for the flight. The ground crew have asked us to stand by for the delivery from ... Ali - er - Baba - um In-flight Catering Services".

And sure enough, as Hypatia leans to one side to peer down the corridor of the plane, a member of the ground crew arrives at the door by the flight deck, staggering slightly under the weight and volume of the Ali Baba basket.

"What do you mean they're gone? How could they all be gone?"

This was bad. Very bad. Wolfgang had gathered the remaining handful of servants in the kitchen. Sure, there had been a few unexpected deaths among the staff, but not enough for the rest of them to pack their bags and head south. What had happened to that old do or die spirit?

They had apparently made their escape during the night. Now there weren't even enough servants left to clear up the breakfast dishes. He's just have to ask the phocoid's troop for help.

"What do you mean they're all gone as well? Where the b****y h**l have they gone?" The PM was going to be livid if he couldn't get the seal back. The PM had plans for the seal.

He supposed he should go upstairs and tell Tina and Tom that there was yet another change in plans. But he hated to interrupt their perverted pleasures. He especially didn't relish delivering bad news in a room filled with whips and chains.

It was all that b****y librarian's fault. He had never liked that woman. With her shussshing and late charges and limits on dvd's. Stupid woman. He still remembered the time she had scolded him for bringing up that S&M site for Ilm...er...Tom on the castle computer. He knew she hadn't believed him when he said it wasn't for himself.

Damn Ilm....er...Tom. Damn the librarian. Damn the PM. Damn all of them. He was tired of being the fall guy.

Wolfgang made his way to his room and packed his bags. As he walked across the lawn toward the garage housing his Jaguar, he heard the sound of several loud blows coming from Tom and Tina's room. He couldn't help hoping they strangled each other.

The sheep was more bemused than usual. He now only tolerated Pip, instead of enjoying his antics.

"What's wrong with the Ozarks?" the sheep said suddenly, interrupting a conversation of daydreaming in black and white. "They're no Ohio, but the Ozarks can be a very fine place to be. You all seem to have reached a consensus that we must rescue our Hypatia from the Ozarks. It may be a good place to stay for a while, until we can sort ourselves out."

"Of course, we'll want to go to other places, like Athens for the Olympics later in the year. I may have a chance to compete by the way - I'm the world sheep pole vaulting champion..."

The Trout immediately interrupted, "Yeah? Well I'm the world trout pole va-"

The sheep regained his momentum "And Hypatia may be able to show us around her library - with our help, it may truly become an equal to Alexandria's ancient Mouseion."

The sheep, with a hopeful look on his face indicated he was done by stepping back, which proved to be a mistake. They seemed to collectively decide to ignore the sheep and continued their discussion of daydreaming in black and white.

The sheep sighed and said to Pip "It's hard not dreaming in black and white when all you dream is counting your friends, eh?"

Jazzme had got his visa and was running like h**l across the tarmac waving visa and ticket in the air.

Thank goodness something had held the plane up long enough for him to make it in time. What was that they were loading into the hold - an ali baba basket - that looks a bit familiar he gasped as he reached the bottom of the stairway and scrambled aboard.

The stewardess bundled him panting into the nearest seat, fastened his seat belt and started the emergency exit/floatation jacket drill with two more girls further down the plane copying the movements with bored expressions on their faces.

The inside of a suitcase is quite a good place to repent at leisure.
Or at extreme discomfort, at any rate.
In a mind like Pinniped's, the urge to apologise is fairly transient at the best of times.
This has got to be the Trout's fault. No-one else could come up with a plot as excrutiatingly mind-numbingly flipper-achingly oxygen-deficiently stupid as this one.
His whiskers curl at the recollection of those accents at the check-out and on the tarmac. They reminded him of Roofle.
Perhaps this is what it feels like to be a limpet.
It would explain the general demeanour, anyhow.
On the whole, bringing new characters into the story would not go down well right now. Look where the last one got you.
But Pinniped is in a tight spot, and his mind is racing, and we all know what can happen then.
Just don't use your imagination, you idiot seal. Just don't think of anything at all.
Easier said than done.
"Hello, Pinniped", comes a voice that can't possibly be there.
Oh bugger. Here we go again.
At least this one doesn't have a Glaswegian accent.

Trout Montague was unusually sympathetic toward the phocid. Perhaps it was lunar. Perhaps it was hormonal. Perhaps it was the fact that he was being involuntarily spooned by the seal in question.

"It's a bit stiff, don't you think? An apology I mean. After all, it wasn't Pinniped who sent the Hypatia packing, was it? It was the letter from the Home Secretary that got her all sexed up. She should have kept her papers in order. She's SUPPOSED to be a LIBRARIAN: keeping papers in order is her job. Anyway, if anyone should apologise, it should be Miss Alberta. She's the one that insinuated that the Hypatia is bossy."

The albatross wriggled uncomfortably at the accusation. She'd never meant to hurt anyone. She was just trying to soothe Ilmer's feelings. Without Ilmer, there'd be no Sampo. Without the Sampo, there'd be no more logorrhea.

Ironically, it was only deft use of the Sampo that would get them out of this mess.

***

The Jazzme adjusted the seat-buckle, and admired the finely-tuned tautness of the girl as she stretched up over him to stuff some, er, stuff into the overhead locker. With an experienced eye the inveterate veteran watched avidly for the briefest glimpse or even a hint of the saucy undies that these girls most surely sported. As she stretched and stuffed, a wisp of hair fell from her bun; the Jazzme gasped as his heart raced. The whole impure episode moved him to as-yet unconsummated thoughts of his beloved Hypatia, somewhere among the other 420 passengers aboard this flight.

"Please stay in your seat, sir ... until the captain switches off the 'fasten seat belts' sign. Thank you.

Like Jana before her, the air-hostess could go whistle, however keen.

***

The Hypatia had heard the announcement "...As previously announced, we we are awaiting the delivery of the catering ..." "'we we'?" she puzzled. "Or 'wee wee'? Could it really be that Boots was in command of this airplane (sic) ..."

***

The lid of the Ali Baba basket lifts a fraction of an inch, and a piece of paper flutters down out of it. No-one notices the piece of paper. If anyone did, they would see that it was inscribed with some punctuation. A colon, a dash and - appropriately - the letter P.

Jazzme's heart was still racing.

He wasn't sure if it was the exertion of running across the tarmac, the closeness of the stewardess storing luggage above his head or the thoughts of Hypatia somewhere on this plane. So near and yet so far.

Unable to move until the 'fasten you seat belts' sign went out he contented himself daydreaming of the lovely librarian.

The wicked thought went through his head,'I wonder if she'd like to join the mile high club? Stop it. Stop it. You crazy fool - try thinking of the aircraft food - that'll put a blanket on such heady thoughts. I wish those b****y seat belt lights would go out. Are we not at 30,000 feet yet?'.

'Where did they put that Ali baba basket? and how many of the gang were hiding in there? with or without visa's? where were the anti terrorist squad to let it aboard anyhow? Did anyone notice which US airport we were heading for? I'm sure there ain't one in the Orzaks'
Sometimes in this tale my head hurts - must be my age showing.

I feel more and more like poor Alice - we'll be spotting the Cheshire cat next.

Hypatia looked at her ticket again and sighed. She hated flying into DFW. It took forever to walk between terminals. She was tempted to just cash in the ticket for her connecting flight to Joplin, rent a car and drive the 350 miles. It might actually be quicker.

She needed to remember to place a couple of phone calls from the airport and warn folks that she was on her way home. If she decided to drive, that would give Angela and Bobby Joe time to open up the house and lay in some provisions. After her frantic pace the past few months, she was looking forward to some quiet time in a familiar setting.

'Oh darn!' thought the hound, surprising even himself with his moderated language. He really didn't have time to take time out of the rabbit chasing course...but friends were another matter. Too bad that yesterday had been the four am exercise and sleep had been limited to less than thirty winks. Hypatia was upset. That would never do. Waz was upset, Waz who never hurt anyone had had it seemed a particularly unfortunate bout of foot in mouth disease.
'So I'll just have to go across the pond and bring Hypatia back'. He hated flying but there were times when a dog had to do what a dog had to do.
'I wonder if she has a copy of 'English rabbit hunting grammatical techniques'?' he mused, thinking a bladder emptying exercise might be in order. Hypatia would never forgive him if he ruined yet another pair of sandals.

Jazme blinked, looked again....yes it was the cheshire cat - thanks Ben he said, feeling on surer ground - but that couldn't be so because he wasn't on the ground! He was in this b****y aeroplane approaching 30,000 feet.

And was that the rolling Atlantic down there or just a sea of tears - so who was in tears? Just about everybody in the tale was feeling blue by the looks of things, dashing about in ever decreasing circles - could they all be crying? And was that the trout splashing about in the salt water?

He looked again and, sure enough, there was only the left - the cat had disappeared, true to form.

I wonder if I can get a drink yet? The stewardesses weren't fastened in now. Mis...Miss...

The shark was beginning to wonder how good an idea the subterfuge had been, so many creatures inside a shark would cause alarm and panic if anyone found them out. He remembered that scene from the film 'Jaws' with everyone jumping into boats, armed to the teeth to kill the poor beast who had only eaten a few meals.

A strange thought crossed his mind. If he were the subject of a game of 20 questions, and they started with the classic 'Animal, vegetable or mineral'? In present shape of a flaxen bag with aluminum closures and his true nature... How would they answer?

Hypatia stood at the Hertz counter at DFW International Airport waiting for the bimbette holding onto her credit card to finish the necessary paperwork. She tapped her foot, she drummed her fingers, she sighed impatiently, but it was all to no avail. She was beginning to remember why she had moved out of Texas and retreated back to the Ozarks all those years ago.

She was finally directed to Parking Concourse H, Row 17, Slot 382 where her chariot awaited. She unlocked the trunk, tossed in her bags next to the Ali Babba basket....what the .....nah...must be the sun in her eyes.

She checked her watch for the tenth time. If she left immediately she could be out of the airport and well north of the city before rush hour. It had been many years since she had made this drive, but she knew every turn in the road. She would be pulling into her driveway in 7 hours and 53 minutes - providing she only stopped once - in Muskogee - for a pit stop - and drove like a bat outta hell.

Dear god in heaven where is the redoubtable (AKA fishy) lavatorial guide when you need him?

"Will Doctor Montague Trout please come to the information desk?"

Hypatia must be here, who else would be waiting for a dehydrated, undercover miner? thought the hound. Then, realising that she must be here, he padded into a reality that he knew should only be engaged in in the future. Trotting quickly through the 'nothing to declare' section in the forlorn hope that he could collect a lifetime of past duty frees and hand them back to Hypatia who's sandal collection was verging on the the Imelda Marcos 'I'm going away for a weekend' scale, he ducked into the toilets and had a moment of confusion....men? Women? He settled for the baby changing cubicle...no one had asked him if he was unaccompanied after all.

Jazzme woke up still strapped into his aeroplane seat - never even got a drink he thought - must've been real tired to nod off like that.Just get up and look for Hypatia - crumbs the plane's almost empty - where are we? Dallas!!! I don't believe it.

He shot out of his seat and rushed to get out through customs just in time to hear the PA system requesting that Montague Trout go to the information desk. Trout! How did he get here? What's he doing here?

Caramba ! he's following Hypatia - must find him quick - need someone to help me catch up with her.

Clearing customs he dived for the information desk....

Hypatia was just about to turn onto the on ramp for Interstate 30 when she noticed a scraggledly bunch of hitchhikers standing forlornly near the ramp holding a sign that said simply "OZARKS". Thank goodness Hertz had given her a 4-door.

She pulled alongside the group and rolled down the window. "Going my way, folks?"

Pinniped, Trout Montague, Wereshark, the lettuce and boots climbed into the back seat. Orchid, Speckly and Fattylizard crawled into the trunk next to the Ali Baba basket. Jazzme took the front passenger seat and Buck and Fiona scrambled onto the roof where Hypatia secured them to the luggage rack. Waz and Alberta settled onto the front fenders to ride shotgun.

Thus the troup of truculent transients were reunited and travelling toward their most exotic location yet. Hypatia turned onto I-30 and headed northeast, away from the big city, toward her home in the Southwest Missouri hills. Next stop would be Hillbilly Country. Yee Haw!

Hypatia turned to the slightly shell-shocked Scottish engineer. "So, my love, how do you feel about barbecue?"