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

A few years ago, when Mal and I were travelling around Ireland, at one point we stopped down in the south-west and stayed for a couple of days with a friend of her mother's. He was what you might call the 'absent-minded professor' type.

He was really welcoming and hospitable. He made us lasagne, and fried me the most tender steak I've ever had. He drove us around to see the sights in the locality, and took us out to the pub for a bit of a folk session. It was lovely.

You couldn't have asked for a warmer, friendlier host.

Anyway, the time came for us to leave after a couple of days. That morning we got up, packed our backpacks, and he made us breakfast. Over breakfast, he said:

"It's been lovely having you here. But who exactly are you?"

Interesting story.

My mind imagines lots of wacky replies :

"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated."
"We're insurance salesmen. We hope you enjoy your new policy."
"We're the new tenants. Thanks for the offer of low rent."
[In best Freddy Krueger voice] "We are your worst nightmare."
"We didn't want to admit it, but you're the wrong address. Sorry."
"If we told you, we'd have to kill your geraniums."
"That's classified information, but we'll tell if you hypnotize us."

"Sam and Janet."
"Sam and Janet who?"
"Sam and Janet evening."

Naw, that would have been just plain wrong, after he fed and watered us, even though he didn't know who on earth we were.

I agree that it would have been wrong , but the storyteller in me enjoys having the excuse for fantasies like that. :--)

fabulus! I'm used to getting 'tones of voice' and 'oooks' that ask 'what th are you', but, never..... (yet), who! - never forget the weird moments, they're what life s all about... really... In my world anyhow and... i bet that was a fabulus breakfast the question was asked over too damnit.

I blame you. I've so gotta make it all teh wat to the butchers, tomroorw, no matter how sore and rubbish I'm feeling.... I feel a sudden urge for sauges... bacon... and decent black pudding and eggs, natch and mushrooms... and... hmmm. I dont' need to eplain where my thoughts jhave just gone, do I? to sleep.... and dream.... of breakfast and wird err... weird...

Fried eggs... This is definitely your fault, Mr 2legs. I've a terrible longing for fried eggs now.

I've no eggs in! - but. I do have fish fingers. and a biochemistry full of steroids and chemo drugs! - no... food now... with the beer. and the drugs... and... I'll never sleep; if I don't sleep; I'll never be fit enough to make it as far as teh butchers .... in a few hours! oh. no. total, mental confusion, and quandry. what's a girl to do.

oh. my BoB.

finish th e beer. skip supper; fish finger sandwichs for breakfast, then hit the butchers to get weekend breaky supplies! - I'm. so. evilg!