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

The Pipsheep, blind behind a big board marked "OZARKS" stood in silence, looking down. It had been his job to hold up the sign with his head. He had noted the ground. It was nothing more than a bit of dirt that seperated the grass from the paved road. His wool was dirtier than usual, but had nothing a good vaccum cleaner couldn't pick up.

"Do you think they have cleaning devices in the Ozarks? I'm a bit afraid of my own smell by now, after I abstained from shower use in McKenzie's... what with the dead servants everywhere and a wide selection of Hitchock Pay-Per-View films on my room's TV. Not that I'm complaining. I shouldn't have watched Psycho the third time. I was worried about the price problems, but it seems like you guys never pay for anything... and believe me - with the damage to the castle, the servants and the movies I ordered considered, we would have racked up quite a bill... Of course the best horror film of all time, all considered, is 'Taxi Driver'..."

"Going my way, folks?" someone said, though Pip was not sure of who or who they were talking to.

"Are you talking to me? Is that a quote from it? I don't remember it, and I watched it eight times in er... recent memory. Have any of you seen it? Terrific film. Very good way to get scared and spend all night watching other movies."

Pip let the sign down, ready for a break in the thankless task of holding up a huge thing. Seeing no one was left, he felt a feeling clearly defined as confused, but unsurprised.

He set out as quickly as his legs could muster, on Interstate 30, after a Hertz bumper sticker and a hope.

'Oh wow!' said the hound and immediately felt embarrassed, knowing 'oh wow' was an expression reserved for the young.
but 'Oh wow! It was so cool!' travelling was such fun. She wasn't entirely delighted with her position. Being squashed between the phocoid and the fish would undoubtedly result in her Paloma Picasso taking on a completely new olefactory connotation, but maybe Macey's was ready for this; Bloomingdale's she doubted.

'Where are we going, Hypatia and will John Wayne be there?'

'Oh boots', Hypatia cast a benign glance in the mutt's direction, making sure she was out of bladder range. 'You have never seen anything like Missouri and wait till we get to hillbilly country, you will feel so at home there.'
Jazzme considered the possibilities of dumping the hound in hillbilly haven and enjoyed the concept; he would at least have Hypatia all to himself again.
Pinniped was having trouble with his phone, he couldn't get through to the SYWM and this distured him. What was that sheep plotting in their absence? Drat! he might have to engage in conversation with the Trout.
The rest of the gang were happily settling into their new roles.
Waz and Alberta were now Butch Cassidy and Sundance. Speckly couldn't decide whether she should be Wyatt Earp or Maverick. Fatty Lizzard was the magnificent seven and Buck and Fiona were relishing in the replays of Rawhide. Ben was more than happy to be Jodie Foster or even Shirley Mclean but she pondered over the possibilities of a Jeanne Moreau outcome...she knew it wasn't going to be little house on the Prairie scenario; that would be too staightforward. Whereshark and the lettuce were keeping an eye out for the hole in the wall gang and they were all looking forward to the sanctuary of the high Chaparell, although Trout harboured Alamo fantasies...
'Oh I do like a good western' said the hound.

Hypatia, seeing a small sheep trying to keep up with the traffic, pulled over and waited for him to catch up. Then she popped the pooped Pip onto the roof with Buck and Fiona, lashed him securely to the luggage rack, and reentered the car.

"I think that's everyone."

She was amused by the hound's cinematic ruminations. Good old boots. Of course she didn't have a clue about the Ozarks. She was expecting West Texas from the sound of it.

"There is one movie that might describe where we're going, gang. Have any of you ever seen Deliverance?"

Whistling happily to herself she merged into the traffic on the freeway and headed for the Arkansas line.

Pinniped still has a crick in his neck, and the daylight hurts, and there's a dog jammed in his ear, and the fish hasn't gone away, and he can't get some idiot banjo-tune out of his head for some reason, but otherwise life is great.

Oh, yeah, and Hypatia is being irrepressibly cheerful. Forgot to mention that one.

So he done closes his purdy little eyes for a while, and dreams unhappily about psycopathic rednecks.

Jazzme, now wide awake again just settled back to watch the scenery, happy to be back with Hypatia he ruminated about the western films currently being discussed in the back - at least if we go to the Alamo I hope it's either before or after the seige - I should hate to have to spend the next few days shooting Mexicans.

He wondered how the fishy members of the community would survive the drying out of the Southern sunshine - perhaps if the hound just continued peeing all over the place thay would have enough liquid to replace the evaporation effects of this heat.

...'Just carry me back to the lone prairie, Where coyotees howl and the wind blows free', was singing it's way through his mind - I wonder how the pooch will get on with a coyotee?

The boot of Hypatia's car smelled of potting compost and mustard.

'Do you think we'll be safe here?' Lizardy asked.
'Well I might get a cramp if they don't let me out soon but I don't think you need to worry.'
'No, I mean this country.'
'You think we might get some trouble because we're both girls?'
'Don't be daft this is the twenty-first century you know. Being queer is fine but is hilbilly country ready for interspecies relationships?'
'Oh,' Speckly thought about it for a bit...'I thought they all married their cousins and slept with the livestock.'
'Ah, a civilized people, well that's a relief.'

The car stopped and there were sounds of people getting in and out and a bump as something was strapped to the roof. Speckly's hopes that they were going to let her out to stretch her legs was dashed when the car started to move again. It really was a little cramped even for such a short human. Speckly concentrated for a moment and where she had been, curled with her head pressed uncomfortably against the spare tyre, there appeared a very small oatmeal coloured bear. Lizardy blinked an flicked her tongue in and out uncertainly for a moment then smiled and turned her attention to exploring the boot.

There was a scattered layer of books and lizardy read out a few titles...'Housebraking your dog through the use of applied grammatical torture' 'The courtship and mating rituals of sheep - how to get them doing it' 'understanding symbols - applied strategies for the subtextually challenged' The lizard paused. 'How odd,' she said 'This one's called fertilizing your garden the organic way or how to get away with murder.'

The little bear and the skink looked at each other. In the corner of the boot a pile of mustard seeds stirred ominously.

It was close to sundown when the rental car turned into a narrow paved driveway and began the final half mile descent toward Hypatia's Ozark Mountain home.

It had been an uneventful drive between Dallas and Texarkana, but the drive north through Arkansas had created a teensy problem. They had been stopped by the Arkansas State Patrol and cited for creating a road hazard, transporting sheep across a state line without a license, and the illegal imprisonment of a killer whale in the trunk of a moving vehicle.

It would have gone bad for Hypatia if she hadn't recognized the trooper's name. It turned out he was the youngest son of Hypatia's second cousin Oral. She hadn't seen him since he was a sprout, but he fondly remembered attending one of her famous Fourth of July barbecues before his folks up and moved him to Arkansas.

"You always was one for critters, Cousin Hype," he'd remarked.

Little Oral helped Hypatia secure a trailer, hitched it to the back of her car and helped the whale, the sheep, the hound and the albatross get settled. Waz refused to move from the front of the car and Little Oral, not being the brightest bulb in the lamp, gave the vulture a ticket for impersonating a hood ornament.

Hypatia thanked Little Oral, invited him to drop by when he was in her neighborhood, and headed north. Her passengers, having more room after the addition of the trailer, had quieted down and some had actually slept for the remainder of the trip.

Jazz had stayed awake and kept her company. As they got closer to her home, Hypatia pointed out some local landmarks to the Scottish engineer. There was the Posssum Flats Drive-In Theater where old Boog Franklin had scandalized the town and disgraced his family by streakin naked as a jay bird up and down the rows of cars during a Saturday night showing of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

They passed Cooter Henson's worm farm and Hype honked and waved when she passed and saw Cooter out watering his red crawlers. Cooter flipped her off as usual. Good old Cooter. They stopped at the Dairy Jane and Hypatia bought everyone cherry limeades so they'd have something to sip on while she ran into the Eagle Falls Price Cutter for some groceries, several bottles of grape Nehi, and a Powerball ticket. They drove past Hickory Nutt's Bait and More, the Get 'n Go, The Dollar General, the Post Office, the Library, the Wal-Mart and the High School.

My God, she thought, remembering Paris and Cairo and the Greek Isles. What on earth am I doing here?

As the car descended her drive, Table Rock Lake came into view. A minute later and the weary travellers caught sight of a sprawling log house overlooking the clear waters of the lake. Smoke was rising from the chimney, a sign that Cousin Cassie had gotten her message and had opened up the house.

The car stopped in front of the house and the passengers began to alight. A small woman wearing faded jeans and a St. Louis Cardinals sweatshirt bounded down the porch steps to greet them.

'It's about time! I was beginnin to wonder if you was ever comin home." She enveloped her cousin in a bear hug, pumped Jazzme arm, then went to the trailer expecting to find luggage that needed unloading.

Hypatia and Jazz heard a shriek and ran toward the back of the trailer. Poor Cousin Cassie had taken one look at Orchid and passed out.

"Well thit!" Orchid remarked. "I didn't do anything. I'm a victim of thircumstance."

"It's ok, Orchid," Hypatia comforted the distraught whale. "She'll be just fine. Cousin Cassie faints a lot."

Hypatia's house was comfortable but wasn't roomie enough for all of her guests to sleep inside. Waz and Alberta were given one room, Speckly and Lizzardy another. She settled the sheep on a large screened in back porch and directed the aquatic members of the party down a flight of stairs to the houseboat tied to her private dock. There were three bedrooms on the houseboat, one for Pinniped, one for Orchid and one for Trout Montague. She put the Wereshark in the boathouse. "Jazzme, I'm afraid you'll have to share with me." She carried the Ali Baba basket inside and placed it near the fireplace where it would stay warm.

Once she had everyone setteled in she headed for the kitchen to help Cousin Cassie fix supper.

"Woof?" and again "Woof?"

When Hypatia said that Jazzme had to share with her he was delighted - he even forgave her memory slip in referring to him as a 'Scottish' engineer. The centuries of border reivers battles and theiving raids had made his family very proud of their English nationality. But the lovely Hypatia was very forgiveable, and the national differences were now largely restricted to the football field.

I wonder if we stole any of the forebears of our current friendly sheep? he mused - that would be a turn-up for the book - my great grandad ate your great-great-great grandad. Mint sauce anyone?

This was a grand spread Hypatia had and he settled happily into a seat on the verandah, luxuriating in the warm sunshine - he may even go for a swim after lunch. How effectively Hypatia had settled everyone in, surely there could be no bickering now? So long as we keep our feathered friend well clear of the American Eagle. And with so much oil such a little distance South there would surely be no need for windmill power generation?

We may even get to browse around Hypatia's library, find something good to read. And wander in her garden so full of vegetables and flowers, still carefully tended by her obliging cousin. Better warn the hound not to go peeing all over the growing crops. Sandals are one thing but foodstuffs are something else again. But Boots was busy at the moment down by the landing stage, marking out 'his' territory, and sniffing to find if there were any other varmints in the neighbourhood.

Perhaps Hypatia would sit with them after lunch and read out some of her poetry.

"This is some rum do", thought Trout Montague as he performed his ablutions in the porcelain bowl that had been placed underneath the bunk to which he'd been assigned. Upon reflection, he was pleased at least that the banality of an insidiously persistent Ben-built smily-conga had been averted, but remained nevertheless consternated now to be among the jug-eared and the red-necked of Hicksville, USA. Or wherever the hell on earth this was.

He looked out through the porthole window half-expecting to see those gosh-darned Duke boys doing their 'crazy thang' in the General Lee. He was to be half-disappointed. His full disappointment had already been realised when it had been made clear to him that none of the Hypatian inhabitants of this place at all resembled hot-panted curvy nymphet Daisy Duke. Here, even the women looked like Boss Hogg.

At that moment, some commotion shook him from his sexual melancholy ... apparently the Hypationa cousin Cassie had caught the Jazzme red-handed, rummaging nimble-fingeredly through the Hypatia's ornamental garden, looking for a root. vegetable. The Cassie had come over all faint, and had fainted.

Hypatia decided it was time to show the hound to his quarters. She had put it off, fearing that he would balk at being housed with her prize coon hound.

"Boots, there's someone I want you to meet." The hound trotted down the porch steps and walked with Hypatia to the side of the house. There, behind the garage, was the kennel. Actually it looked more like a large play house. It was a small bungalow containing a sitting room, a bedroom and a kitchenette. The building contained comfortable furniture, an abundance of dog toys, a wide screen tv and central heat and air.

As soon as Hypatia opened the door she was greeted by a tan and black coon hound who was so excited to see her that she ran around in circles a few times then peed on Hypatia's shoe.

"Boots, meet Slipper. Slipper, meet Boots."

The two hounds eyed each other suspiciously. Hypatia hoped they would make friends. She was careful who she let Slipper associate with, but Boots had proven himself a stalwart companion.

Seeing the look of surprize on the hound's face as he looked around the kennel Hypatia quickly explained that folks in the hills took very good care of their coon hounds. In many cases, the hounds live better than their owners.

Slipper smelled Boot's butt, sighed as only a coon hound can, then wandered over to her favorite chair, picked up the remote, turned on one of her favorite hunting programs and immediately went to sleep.

"Boots, you can take the bed. Slipper never uses it." She hugged the hound, scratched him behind his ears and walked over to the door. "I'll see you in the morning. If you're tired, just don't get Slipper talking about snipe hunts. She'll talk your leg off."

Boots eyed the slipper cautiously. She seemed allright, at least she'd had the courtesy to introduce herself and she had given up her bed. Hypatia liked her so that was a plus. He was too tired to think. 'Good night, slipper' he said. 'I take it we don't pee in house?'
'You're tired boots, we'll talk tomorrow' said slipper. 'After all tomorrow is another day.'

The hound groaned. He just knew it was going to be one of those stories.

Hypatia and Cassie were up early fixing their visitor's breakfast and planning some outings for them over the next few days.

"How long are they gonna stay, Cousin Hype?"

"I'm not sure, Cassie. This group moves around a lot. But long enough for us to show them the Ozarks. We can take them crappie fishing and white water rafting. And I think the guys might enjoy a night in the woods snipe hunting."

And since the Phocoid and the Sheep were in pursuit of businesss opportunities, she thought she might introduce them to Uncle Harley and ask him to teach them how to properly operate a...er...distillery.

"You gotta take them to Silver Dollar City," Cassie offered. That would show them we can have as much fun as the next guy."

Hypatia brightened up. She thought that was a grand idea. She quickly sat down and wrote an address on the breakfast place cards.

http://www.silverdollarcity.com/default.asp

"Here Cassie. Put these by everyone's breakfast plates. This way they'll know what to expect when they get there."

Cassie took the small cards and began distributing them around the large oak dining table. "I'll bet the folks at the City have never seen a party like this one before."

Jazzme felt a little sorry for boots (but not a lot) relegated to the kennel, however sumptious, to share with a c**n. (Was that the vitriolic comments of Alf Garnet on the tele?)

Never mind boots - try to find a folk music programme and you might see Dolly Parton - or try the old movies side, you might even catch Jane Russell or Marylin Munroe. Small recompense for all those weeks of celibacy but, as slipper says, tomorrow is another day. With a bit of luck Slipper may not be too worn out after a day at Siver Dollar City.

Meanwhile Goodnight,I'm off to bed, coming Hypatia?

Jazzme

Or even Si_l_ver Dollar City !!!!

SilverDollarCity might entertain the rest, but the shark's lateral line had been stimulated by the phrase 'crappie fishing' That was more his style. Then he remembered stories about giant Catfish who lived in deep holes in the rivers around here. He slipped out of the Boathouse on a quest of his own, leaving the others to a mundane breakfast of eggs and grits.

Trout Montague relaxed his aural sphincter and strained to listen carefully. There was a distant rhythymic beat ... tom-toms maybe? He listened more. Then he realised to his utter chagrin that he was tuned in to the humdrum. And Trout Montague couldn't play the humdrum. Closing his eyes, he returned to his slumber. And a shag-grin.

Alberta slipped unseen passed the door of the breakfast room. She took an anxious look around from the front door. No one was in sight. She took off and flew silently down the drive to Hypatia's 4 x 4. With a deft twist of her beak she unfastened the trunk and peered in. Nothing peered back. She cleared her throat nervously; "Hello?"

Nothing replied.

"Erm, is anyone there?"

Nothing stared back.

"I know that you're here, Mr. Pinniped told me" Alberta tried, remembering the belligerent confession to having let his imagination loose in the suitcase that the seal had tossed at her. And the suggestion that she might think a bit of damage limitation on his behalf would be a good idea, that he'd thrown in to follow.

At the mention of Pinniped, Nothing stirred in the mustard seed.

Cassie rounded the corner of the 4 x 4 and made to toss the picnic basket she carried into the trunk; on top of Alberta. "Aawwwkk..."squawked Alberta in a white flurry of wings. "Aaaahhhhhh.." screamed Cassie and fainted. Again. Quite unnecessary, thought Waz, attracted by the noise. Grabbing Cassie by the shoulders she flew her to the water butt and dropped her in.

Alberta watched with some disconcertment but had to admit that as far as bringing Cassie round went, it had worked. She turned back to the car. But this time nothing was there. She leant in to see into the corners. Nothing. She swished the piles of mustard seed to one side and rummaged among the books. Nothing, definitely nothing.

She was worried. At least the damage had been limited to the insides of the 4 x 4 before. Where had the half formed, unattended, abandoned projection got to? In the book according to Pinniped anything that happened now would be her fault now. She sighed, deeply.

Jazzme was aroused from a welcome lie in, in bed after the bliss of the evening alone with Hypatia, by a splash and a loud scream.

Jumping out of bed he looked out of the window to see Cassie thrashing about in the water, over her depth. Caramba, he cried and shot out of the door down to the slipway and dived in. I know I said I fancied a swim yesterday, he thought, but the water's still a bit too cold for this. And I'm getting too old for this carry on, but he reached Cassie, turned on to his back and pulled the wench head first on to his chest, calming her struggles with words of encouragement, between his gasps for breath.

Kicking out for the shore, and into shallower water, he was assisted by Hypatia, now waist deep in the lake, asking Cassie what on earth she was playing at swimming fully clothed before breakfast.

Cassie wondered if anyone would believe her that it was a b....y big bird to blame!!!

Pedestrian, Banal, Hackneyed And Trite
Literary Agents
London
ENGLAND

Ali Baba Basket
Ozarks
America


14 March 2004


Dear Ms. Ben,

We thank you for recent submission.

In this instance we regret to advise that we will be unable to pursue publication. However please do not be deterred from making further submissions in the future.

For record, as shaggy-dog stories go, we thought that the inclusion into the storyline of an actual shaggy-dog was profoundly inventive.

We remain,

Yours truly,



Toady Lickspittle
Literary Agent