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

Well? What are the results?

There were supposed to be results?

I think sending an army of equal numbers men
and women into the Middle East would cause Muslims
a great deal of chagrin. If our women soldiers are
captured, they could be shot for not wearing veils.
This has diplomatic consequences.

I think the argument against sending young women
to war has traditionally been that they are in their
peak childbearing years, and are more deeply involved
in the raising of young children than men of the
same age.

If a young child's parents both go to war, who would
take of the child while the war is in progress?
Will we need to build more orphanages if children
lose both parents to war on a large scale?

Can't we send the kids along, to beat up the other kids?

I don't know how Fluffy Pink Rabbit
came up with that one. He must have
been reading some heavy stuff lately.

Would our kids be able to beat up their
kids, though? Childhood obesity is running
rampant in the U.S. now. Not a good sign.

Our fat kids could sit on their mal-nutritioned kids.
It would be just like grade school.

This is for Loophole:
Third from last chapter. Vincent and Noah's wife, Roxanne, have been having an affair.

The Man

Vincent, Toomey, and Jack were playing poker, and one of them was cheating. The café was empty, which was not odd for three PM. The weather was unusually bright, and the tables and chairs cast long shadows across the red slate floor. At their table, among the cups and plates and forsaken playing cards, they bet with matchsticks.
"I'll take two," said Vincent, who sat turned away from the windows because the light bothered his eyes. He dropped the cards and picked up two from Jack, made the dealer because he was the worst player and least likely to cheat. Vincent studied his hand, shifted one card, and tossed in two matchsticks smugly. Jack turned to Toomey.
"How many, Peter?" Jack sometimes called Toomey by his real name by mistake.
Toomey did not answer. Something important was going on near the door that distracted him. Jack looked past Vincent. He could see a familiar black coat in the doorway, and in that coat was Noah.
Noah signaled to Toomey, who got up from the table and speeded to the counter. The coffee-jerk, a rude name for lazy employees he had come up with, made frantic gestures before Toomey pushed her into the storeroom and held the door shut.
Vincent put down his cards and, twitching in apprehension, turned to the windows.
"You should never sit with your back to a door," said the man whose reputation was fading like an old tattoo.
He assumed it was time for fresh ink.
Vincent's jaw quivered, and Jack thought he could hear the sound of molars clicking.
"Vince," boomed Noah, "it's time."
Like a deer in the headlights, Vincent froze.
Noah pulled the gun from his pocket.
The truck hit the deer.
Vince fell from the chair and onto the slates.
Jack stood up too quickly and knocked his own chair over backwards.
"Jack," said Noah, seeing him for the first time, "get behind me."
"D-d-don't do anything stupid."
"I want you to get behind me."
Jack vacillated.
Noah raised his aim from Vince on the floor to Jack above him.
"Now."
Jack froze in the sight of Noah's pistol.
Noah shook his hand to the left.
Vincent's face was a mangled expression of terror.
Jack looked to Toomey for exoneration, and finding none, marched to join Noah.
Vincent sobbed, his curled body just beyond Noah's long shadow.
The shadow fell over him as Noah approached.
"On your knees." Noah hissed through clenched teeth.
Vincent did not move quickly enough, so Noah raised the pistol and sent a bullet across the room, into the upright piano where it severed an F string with a twang.
Vincent scrambled to his knees.
He blubbered: "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
Upright, Noah was eight inches shorter than he was.
Noah now towered above him.
"This is a taste," he said, his voice filled with suppressed anger, as he touched the smoking muzzle to the base of Vincent's neck.
His mouth bent into a gaping scream emitting only a bantam whine.
Jack believed he heard the skin sizzle.
Toomey looked away, still firm on the door handle.
The coffee-jerk screamed, muffled.
Jack made the first motions to aid, but halted.
Noah slid the muzzle up slowly through Vincent's red hair.
"And this is the meal."

how do you do it?

Write so well or type that fast?