wolfshirts strikes again
Dec. 6th, 2007 03:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
psghayleauxInspired by and started in this entry in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
wolfshirts.
MCR's Guide to the Galaxy
rating: PG or there abouts.
pairing:Gerard/Frank sort of Bob/Ray, Bob/Patrick
warnings: sort of incest in that Gerard/Frank=Ford/Zaphod
summary: what if you replaced the cast of HHGG with members of MCR and other bands?
notes: this is the first bandom thing I have ever written.
It was a Thursday, and the Earth’s days would be numbered in minutes.
Bob was no more aware of this than he was that his friend Gerard was not from New Jersey as he’d always claimed, but from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse.
(He’d been on Earth for 5 years now, he’d never intended to stay that long, and he’d just dropped in to do a bit of research for an article he was writing. He worked for the most amazing book in the universe, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
Unfortunately he’d had little luck in finding a ride off the planet. He’d gotten drunk at a party and missed his original ride and consequently given up drinking so on the off chance another ship came by he wouldn’t miss it.
He’d finally gotten a signal on his electronic thumb, which was unfortunate because of who it was.)
At the moment Bob probably wouldn’t care anyway.
Currently there were a large number of men in hard hats standing around outside the apartment building he lived in. One of them had a bull horn.
“Mr. Bryar, you’re standing in the way of progress, you need to leave the building, it’s scheduled for demolition.”
Bob didn’t think he was standing in the way of anything. As he’d found out moments ago they wanted to knock down the building he called home, (mostly it was just a place to sleep and keep his drum kit but it was still home like,) so they could put in a Starbucks, which didn’t make much sense to him because there was already one just down the block.
“Nobody told me anything about this before today, I demand to speak to someone one about this,” he yelled back.
“Mr. Bryar all of the tenants where informed months ago.”
“Well no one told me.” Although it would explain why it had gotten so much quieter, and the distinct lack of people banging on his floor and walls when he practiced his drums should have clued him in.
Before anyone could say anything else there was a commotion on the street.
Gerard pushed through the workers and looked up at Bob’s window, “Oh good you’re home, I’ll be right up.”
Bob gapped at him but didn’t have time to respond before he took off into the building.
The man with the bull horn tried to stop him, Gerard simply ignored him.
He came bursting through Bob’s door a moment later, having obviously made excellent time on his trip up.
“Come on Bob, there’s something very important I need to tell you.” He normally pale face was flushed and slightly sweaty, and his hair was in even more disarray than normal.
Bob was in general feeling like this was not his day, “Is it Thursday? I never seem to get the hang of Thursdays.”
“Stop babbling Bob, grab your towel, we’ve got places to go.”
“But they want to knock down the building!”
Seeing that Bob wasn’t going anywhere on his own Gerard darted into the bathroom and grabbed a towel, slinging it around Bob’s neck as he grabbed his wrist and started dragging him towards the door.
“Won’t matter in 20 minutes anyway, come to Starbucks with me.”
“I’m not feeling much like Starbucks at the moment, besides THEY WANT TO KNOCK DOWN THE BUILDING!” He was hoping that volume would get Gerard’s attention.
“Well we can just ask them to wait a moment then, just pretend you’re still here.”
“Uh…”
“Excellent.” He took a firmer grip on Bob and tugged him out of the apartment.
He spluttered the whole way down and through Gerard’s entire flailing, enthusiastic and confusing explanation to the workers about pretending someone was still in the building.
He managed to stop about the time Gerard shoved him into a booth and dropped three coffees in front of him.
“Are we expecting more people?”
“No, drink up, you’ll need the caffeine.”
“Why do I need caffeine?”
Gerard ignored his question and asked one of his own, “What would you say if I told you that I wasn’t from New Jersey, but a small planet near Betelgeuse and that I wasn’t a struggling artist, but a reporter for something called the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?”
Bob looked up from the coffee he was communing with, it was the most sane thing he’d seen all day, “I don’t know is it the sort of thing you think you’re going to say?”
“Yes.”
“Ah…”
He didn’t wait for Bob to come up with a response. “Well it’s the truth, I’ve been stuck here for 5 years, I was really hoping that they’d expand the entry on Earth if I stopped by again.”
“The what on Earth?”
“The guide entry on Earth.” He pulled out something that looked like a cross between a laptop and a book. It said ‘Don’t Panic’ in friendly pink letters at the top. “This is the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the most amazing book in the universe. Would you like to see the entry on Earth?”
“Sure.”
Gerard punched a few buttons and turned it towards Bob, “Here you go.”
Bob looked down at the screen. He didn’t see anything on Earth, just something about a triple breasted whore. “I, uh, don’t see anything on Earth.”
“It’s at the bottom.” He pointed.
Bob looked, it said Earth: Harmless.
“Harmless? That’s all it’s got to say about Earth?”
“Well there was quite a bit more, it just all got edited out. I’ve got a new entry waiting to be submitted.”
“What’s that one say?”
“Mostly Harmless.”
Bob’s head hit the table with a loud thunk.
“Don’t worry, it won’t matter soon anyway. I finally picked up a signal; unfortunately it’s from the Vogon Constructor Fleet. And that’s never a good thin.”
Bob picked up his head and looked at him a moment. “Suddenly I feel like a stiff drink would do me more good than three cups of coffee.”
Gerard glared at him, “No alcohol, besides the caffeine will cushion your system against the transporter beam better.”
“Transporter beam?”
“Yep, lucky for us the Vogon’s employ Dentrassis. They’ll pick us up; Vogon’s hate hitchhikers and would never do that.”
Just then there was a loud boom from down the block. Bob sat up and looked around wildly then ran out of the café, towel flapping wildly behind him. Gerard grabbed their coffee and chased him out.
He didn’t have to go far, Bob had stopped just outside the door and was staring in horror at the place where his apartment building had been, it was now a pile of rubble.
“My drum kit! They killed my drum kit!”
“Won’t matter anyway, the Vogon’s are nearly here, and they plan on demolishing the planet anyway.”
“What?”
“Oops, I forgot to mention that didn’t I?”
“Yes you did.” Bob glared at him; it was the kind of glare that made most people freeze and possibly quake in their boots. Gerard was made of sterner stuff than that, sort of, he swallowed the last of his coffee in an attempt to break line of sight with him.
It really only worked because Bob stalked off to glare at the people who’d killed his drums. He was glaring and growling at them menacingly as he went over.
They all scattered, he looked confused by this, completely missing the fact they were pointing at the sky as they ran.
“Come back here you jerks so I can yell at you properly,” he yelled at their retreating backs.
He went to take off after them but Gerard caught him before he could.
“Don’t bother, they’re here.” He pointed up, the Vogon’s ships, ugly yellow monstrosities, were hanging low in the sky.
“That’s not good is it?”
“Not really no.” He pulled a blinking device out of his bag; it sort of looked like a cell phone only roundish and covered in lights.
“What’s that?” asked Bob hoping it was something that would make the ships go away.
“An electronic thumb, it’ll signal the Dentrassis to pick us up. You might want to finish your coffee first though.”
Bob thought, “What the hell” and drank the coffee quickly.
The world went wonky just as he’d finished the third cup.
When he came to he felt like he’d been taken apart and put back together all wrong. He pried his eyes open and nothing got better, the room he was in was dark, dank, and damp. It also smelled slightly like old gym socks.
“Where are we Gerard?”
“The Dentrassis crew quarters I would guess.”
“Oh…so this is a space ship? It doesn’t look very space shippy to me.”
Gerard just rolled his eyes, then winced as something came over the intercom.
Bob clamped his hands over his ears, “What the hell is that?”
“Vogon. Come here, you need a fish.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a jar, it contained a small brightly colored fish. “I need to stick this in your ear, it’ll translate for you.”
“What?! No, keep that away from me.” Gerard moved lighting fast and stuck it in his ear.
Bob grabbed at his ear, but it was too late, the fish had slithered in. All of the sudden the horrible noises started to make sense, that that it was any less horrible when he could understand it.
I repeat, this is Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz, it has come to my attention that we have a couple of hitchhikers on board.
First off I’d like to welcome you to our ship. Secondly I’m not very happy you’re here. I’ve recently had a love affair end very badly and I’m not very happy with anything at the moment.
So I think I’ll capture you and read you some of my poetry.
It went on to repeat several more times before the intercom went silent once more.
“He’s going to read us poetry? That doesn’t sound so bad.”
Gerard shuttered delicately, “It is. Vogon’s write the worst poetry in the universe, so if it’s all the same to you I’d rather not be caught.”
Unfortunately for them there were already loud boot steps coming down the corridor to their hiding place.
Needless to say they were caught. Then tortured by a reading of Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz’s favorite poems and then after a valiant attempt to get out of it, dumped out an air lock.
Luckily for them the Heart of Gold, the most amazing ship in the universe, popped out of hyperspace and picked them up on a whim. (The Heart of Gold you must understand, is the most improbable ship in the universe, it looks a bit like a guitar might look if it one day thought to its self, ‘gee I think I’m sick of this music thing, I think I’ll take up space travel.’
It also ran on the universes only improbability drive. A device that allowed it to move mind bogglingly fast and was so drastically complicated that it appeared to be nothing more than a cigarette butt extinguished in a cup of cold coffee.)
When reality finally righted itself again Bob and Gerard realized that they were in fact no dead but in an entry bay on a ship.
“Gerard, what kind of ship are we on now?”
“I’m not sure, but I think I like it.”
Just then the door opened with an irritatingly happy sign, and thought the door walked a robot.
A tallish, gangly, angular robot with a depressed air about it, it was also holding a gun.
“Stand up.” It waved the gun at them half heartedly.
They stood up, mostly because the floor wasn’t that comfortable, the robot didn’t seem all that threatening.
“Me with a brain the size of a planet and what do they do? I’ll tell you, they say hey Mikey kid, why don’t you slouch off and see who those two dudes are that just popped in are, oh and bring them up to the control cabin.
They thought it might cheer me up a bit.
They were wrong.
I have a genuine people personality you see, a prototype. It’s a complete failure.” Mikey walked, slowly, almost painfully, back to the door.
It sighed happily again, “I hate it when they do that. Are you two coming?”
Gerard pulled out his towel, it never hurt to have one handy. Bob just continued to look confused.
They made slow progress as Mikey was dragging his left leg slightly.
Bob tapped Gerard on the shoulder and leaned into to speak into his ear, “Why is the robot limping?”
“I can hear you,” said Mikey, “as for my limp, there is a shooting pain all up and down the diodes in my left leg, not that anyone will listen to me,” he sighed hugely and looked even more dejected that he previously had.
Several more of the irritating doors later, (some of them spoke, saying in happy little voices things like ‘thank you for giving this simple door the pleasure of opening for you.’ Gerard looked ready to kill them,) they reached the control cabin.
Mikey walked through the door first Gerard following with his towel wrapped partly around his head. Bob just followed trying to look calm and resisting the urge to hide behind his own towel.
“I’ve brought the prisoners,” said Mikey as though it pained him greatly to speak.
“Thanks kid,” said the figure in the room.
Mikey simply walked into a corner, slumped against the wall and powered off.
The figure turned, he was on the short side, dark hair hanging in his face, but short elsewhere, he had a lot of tattoos, and oddly enough, three arms.
Gerard’s face lit up when he say him.
“Frankie,” he practically squealed before walking over to him.
“Gerard!” He practically launched himself at Gerard.
When they reached each other Frank all but climbed Gerard like a tree. They kissed enthusiastically for a lot longer than Bob really felt comfortable having to witness; they eventually broke apart somewhat reluctantly.
“Bob, this is my semi-half cousin twice removed, Frank, he’s the president of the galaxy!”
“Hi earthman,” said Frank with a slightly scary grin in Bob’s direction.
Bob blanched slightly, he was pretty sure people who were related shouldn’t greet each other with quite so much toung action.
“Hi,” he said uncertainly.
They really didn’t pay any attention to him.
“Frankie, why’d you get the extra arm?”
“I thought it might help my guitar playing.”
“Has it?”
Bob decided they weren’t that interesting, plus he was a little worried they might start making out again.
He wandered over to the control panel, but before he could touch anything someone else came into the room.
“Hi Bob.”
He turned around, “Ray?”
He’d met Ray at a couple a couple of months ago, the music had been crap but they’d really seemed to be hitting it off.
He’d gone to get them another round and when he’d got back Ray was disappearing into the crowed with someone, who in retrospect looked a lot like Frank.
“Sorry about ditching you, he said he had a space ship that looked like a guitar. It sounded interesting.” He gave a shrug, “so how’s Earth?”
“Extinct.”
“What?”
“Extinct, it got blown up.” Bob noticed Ray’s hair deflated before he did.
“My guitars are all gone?”
“Uh yeah, sorry, if it makes you feel better so are my drums.”
“It does, a little.”
“Good, so is there anything to drink on this ship? Because I’m pretty sure after the day I’ve had I deserve to get really, really drunk.”
“Follow me, I think this calls for your introduction to the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. It’s so strong that there are rehabilitation centers set up for people who drink them.”
Bob’s eyes lit up, “That sounds promising.”
He followed Ray up to the galley. “Computer,” said Ray.
“Hi there guys, this is Brendon your on board computer, what can I help you with?”
“Hi Brendon, can you give us directions for making Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters?”
“Sure this guys.” He did and Bob and Ray proceeded to get very, very drunk.
What Gerard and Frank got up to is probably best left up to the imagination, or better yet, not thought of at all.
Scenes that I probably won’t ever write the story to go with
It had been 8 years since Bob had been on Earth, mostly because it was gone, however though some odd twist of humor on the universes part he found himself once more there.
The ship he’d hitched a ride with had dropped him outside of town, so he was walking back in, in the rain, with nothing more than a plastic bag containing his positions and his ratty towel.
He wasn’t having much luck getting someone to stop and give him a ride.
A car did stop eventually, mostly because he’d tripped over something and landed in the road, the car had nearly run him over.
It skidded to a stop mere inches from him and the driver had gotten out and run around to check on him.
“Are you okay?”
Bob opened his eyes and promptly fell in love.
The owner of the voice, and presumably the car, was a shortish, pudgyish guy with blue eyes wearing a hat and glasses.
He was also one of the most beautiful things Bob had ever seen.
“I’m fine.”
“Oh that’s good. Why do you have a bone in your beard, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Bob reached up and sure enough there was a bone stuck in his beard. If he remembered correctly it was from a particularly tasty rabbit he’d eaten several years previously, he’d taken a fancy to the bone and put it in his beard for safe keeping.
“So I wouldn’t lose it.” He pulled it out and put it in his pocket instead.
“Oh, that makes sense I guess.” He offered Bob a hand up, which Bob accepted.
“Can I give you a ride?”
“Sure, thanks.”
“Not a problem. My names Patrick by the way, seems only polite that we introduce ourselves after a near death occurrence.”
“Nice to meet you Patrick, my names Bob, by the way, what year is it?”
***
Bob loved it when he and Patrick went flying together. It was something he’d started to miss. Plus losing clothing at high altitude in highly inappropriate for public ways was always fun.
***
Bob was quite happy with his life as a sandwich maker. There was a rhythm to it that was almost as food as playing drums.
He’d even become accustomed to living somewhere that believed in the Almighty Bob.
As soon as he’d found that out he’d decided it best to go by a different name, now he was simply know as the Sandwich Maker. It was a quiet life, just what he’d always wanted.
Then one day a very snappy looking ship landed in front of his hut, giving all the villagers a good fright.
A hatch opened and out walked Ray, followed by a short surly looking person.
“Hi Bob.”
Bob flinched, hoping no one was near enough to hear that, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Bob had a sudden sinking feeling about the genetic deposit he’d made a couple years back when he’d needed some extra cash.
“This is our son, Pete. I decided I wanted a kid it seemed like a good idea at the time. And as it turned out the only person in the whole genetic data bank who was compatible with me was you.
Pete was fine for awhile, but then one day I dropped him off at day care when he was two and when I came back he was like this and I just don’t have the time for a surly teenager emoing all over my life.
So he’s going to live with you now. You might as well take some responsibility for the parenting; he’s your kid too.”
“But…but?”
“Thanks a bunch.” Ray walked back onto the ship, the hatch closed and it took off.
Bob looked at Pete with some confusion. Pete glared at a near by rock as though it had mortally offended him.
wolfshirts.MCR's Guide to the Galaxy
rating: PG or there abouts.
pairing:Gerard/Frank sort of Bob/Ray, Bob/Patrick
warnings: sort of incest in that Gerard/Frank=Ford/Zaphod
summary: what if you replaced the cast of HHGG with members of MCR and other bands?
notes: this is the first bandom thing I have ever written.
It was a Thursday, and the Earth’s days would be numbered in minutes.
Bob was no more aware of this than he was that his friend Gerard was not from New Jersey as he’d always claimed, but from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse.
(He’d been on Earth for 5 years now, he’d never intended to stay that long, and he’d just dropped in to do a bit of research for an article he was writing. He worked for the most amazing book in the universe, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
Unfortunately he’d had little luck in finding a ride off the planet. He’d gotten drunk at a party and missed his original ride and consequently given up drinking so on the off chance another ship came by he wouldn’t miss it.
He’d finally gotten a signal on his electronic thumb, which was unfortunate because of who it was.)
At the moment Bob probably wouldn’t care anyway.
Currently there were a large number of men in hard hats standing around outside the apartment building he lived in. One of them had a bull horn.
“Mr. Bryar, you’re standing in the way of progress, you need to leave the building, it’s scheduled for demolition.”
Bob didn’t think he was standing in the way of anything. As he’d found out moments ago they wanted to knock down the building he called home, (mostly it was just a place to sleep and keep his drum kit but it was still home like,) so they could put in a Starbucks, which didn’t make much sense to him because there was already one just down the block.
“Nobody told me anything about this before today, I demand to speak to someone one about this,” he yelled back.
“Mr. Bryar all of the tenants where informed months ago.”
“Well no one told me.” Although it would explain why it had gotten so much quieter, and the distinct lack of people banging on his floor and walls when he practiced his drums should have clued him in.
Before anyone could say anything else there was a commotion on the street.
Gerard pushed through the workers and looked up at Bob’s window, “Oh good you’re home, I’ll be right up.”
Bob gapped at him but didn’t have time to respond before he took off into the building.
The man with the bull horn tried to stop him, Gerard simply ignored him.
He came bursting through Bob’s door a moment later, having obviously made excellent time on his trip up.
“Come on Bob, there’s something very important I need to tell you.” He normally pale face was flushed and slightly sweaty, and his hair was in even more disarray than normal.
Bob was in general feeling like this was not his day, “Is it Thursday? I never seem to get the hang of Thursdays.”
“Stop babbling Bob, grab your towel, we’ve got places to go.”
“But they want to knock down the building!”
Seeing that Bob wasn’t going anywhere on his own Gerard darted into the bathroom and grabbed a towel, slinging it around Bob’s neck as he grabbed his wrist and started dragging him towards the door.
“Won’t matter in 20 minutes anyway, come to Starbucks with me.”
“I’m not feeling much like Starbucks at the moment, besides THEY WANT TO KNOCK DOWN THE BUILDING!” He was hoping that volume would get Gerard’s attention.
“Well we can just ask them to wait a moment then, just pretend you’re still here.”
“Uh…”
“Excellent.” He took a firmer grip on Bob and tugged him out of the apartment.
He spluttered the whole way down and through Gerard’s entire flailing, enthusiastic and confusing explanation to the workers about pretending someone was still in the building.
He managed to stop about the time Gerard shoved him into a booth and dropped three coffees in front of him.
“Are we expecting more people?”
“No, drink up, you’ll need the caffeine.”
“Why do I need caffeine?”
Gerard ignored his question and asked one of his own, “What would you say if I told you that I wasn’t from New Jersey, but a small planet near Betelgeuse and that I wasn’t a struggling artist, but a reporter for something called the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?”
Bob looked up from the coffee he was communing with, it was the most sane thing he’d seen all day, “I don’t know is it the sort of thing you think you’re going to say?”
“Yes.”
“Ah…”
He didn’t wait for Bob to come up with a response. “Well it’s the truth, I’ve been stuck here for 5 years, I was really hoping that they’d expand the entry on Earth if I stopped by again.”
“The what on Earth?”
“The guide entry on Earth.” He pulled out something that looked like a cross between a laptop and a book. It said ‘Don’t Panic’ in friendly pink letters at the top. “This is the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the most amazing book in the universe. Would you like to see the entry on Earth?”
“Sure.”
Gerard punched a few buttons and turned it towards Bob, “Here you go.”
Bob looked down at the screen. He didn’t see anything on Earth, just something about a triple breasted whore. “I, uh, don’t see anything on Earth.”
“It’s at the bottom.” He pointed.
Bob looked, it said Earth: Harmless.
“Harmless? That’s all it’s got to say about Earth?”
“Well there was quite a bit more, it just all got edited out. I’ve got a new entry waiting to be submitted.”
“What’s that one say?”
“Mostly Harmless.”
Bob’s head hit the table with a loud thunk.
“Don’t worry, it won’t matter soon anyway. I finally picked up a signal; unfortunately it’s from the Vogon Constructor Fleet. And that’s never a good thin.”
Bob picked up his head and looked at him a moment. “Suddenly I feel like a stiff drink would do me more good than three cups of coffee.”
Gerard glared at him, “No alcohol, besides the caffeine will cushion your system against the transporter beam better.”
“Transporter beam?”
“Yep, lucky for us the Vogon’s employ Dentrassis. They’ll pick us up; Vogon’s hate hitchhikers and would never do that.”
Just then there was a loud boom from down the block. Bob sat up and looked around wildly then ran out of the café, towel flapping wildly behind him. Gerard grabbed their coffee and chased him out.
He didn’t have to go far, Bob had stopped just outside the door and was staring in horror at the place where his apartment building had been, it was now a pile of rubble.
“My drum kit! They killed my drum kit!”
“Won’t matter anyway, the Vogon’s are nearly here, and they plan on demolishing the planet anyway.”
“What?”
“Oops, I forgot to mention that didn’t I?”
“Yes you did.” Bob glared at him; it was the kind of glare that made most people freeze and possibly quake in their boots. Gerard was made of sterner stuff than that, sort of, he swallowed the last of his coffee in an attempt to break line of sight with him.
It really only worked because Bob stalked off to glare at the people who’d killed his drums. He was glaring and growling at them menacingly as he went over.
They all scattered, he looked confused by this, completely missing the fact they were pointing at the sky as they ran.
“Come back here you jerks so I can yell at you properly,” he yelled at their retreating backs.
He went to take off after them but Gerard caught him before he could.
“Don’t bother, they’re here.” He pointed up, the Vogon’s ships, ugly yellow monstrosities, were hanging low in the sky.
“That’s not good is it?”
“Not really no.” He pulled a blinking device out of his bag; it sort of looked like a cell phone only roundish and covered in lights.
“What’s that?” asked Bob hoping it was something that would make the ships go away.
“An electronic thumb, it’ll signal the Dentrassis to pick us up. You might want to finish your coffee first though.”
Bob thought, “What the hell” and drank the coffee quickly.
The world went wonky just as he’d finished the third cup.
When he came to he felt like he’d been taken apart and put back together all wrong. He pried his eyes open and nothing got better, the room he was in was dark, dank, and damp. It also smelled slightly like old gym socks.
“Where are we Gerard?”
“The Dentrassis crew quarters I would guess.”
“Oh…so this is a space ship? It doesn’t look very space shippy to me.”
Gerard just rolled his eyes, then winced as something came over the intercom.
Bob clamped his hands over his ears, “What the hell is that?”
“Vogon. Come here, you need a fish.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a jar, it contained a small brightly colored fish. “I need to stick this in your ear, it’ll translate for you.”
“What?! No, keep that away from me.” Gerard moved lighting fast and stuck it in his ear.
Bob grabbed at his ear, but it was too late, the fish had slithered in. All of the sudden the horrible noises started to make sense, that that it was any less horrible when he could understand it.
I repeat, this is Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz, it has come to my attention that we have a couple of hitchhikers on board.
First off I’d like to welcome you to our ship. Secondly I’m not very happy you’re here. I’ve recently had a love affair end very badly and I’m not very happy with anything at the moment.
So I think I’ll capture you and read you some of my poetry.
It went on to repeat several more times before the intercom went silent once more.
“He’s going to read us poetry? That doesn’t sound so bad.”
Gerard shuttered delicately, “It is. Vogon’s write the worst poetry in the universe, so if it’s all the same to you I’d rather not be caught.”
Unfortunately for them there were already loud boot steps coming down the corridor to their hiding place.
Needless to say they were caught. Then tortured by a reading of Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz’s favorite poems and then after a valiant attempt to get out of it, dumped out an air lock.
Luckily for them the Heart of Gold, the most amazing ship in the universe, popped out of hyperspace and picked them up on a whim. (The Heart of Gold you must understand, is the most improbable ship in the universe, it looks a bit like a guitar might look if it one day thought to its self, ‘gee I think I’m sick of this music thing, I think I’ll take up space travel.’
It also ran on the universes only improbability drive. A device that allowed it to move mind bogglingly fast and was so drastically complicated that it appeared to be nothing more than a cigarette butt extinguished in a cup of cold coffee.)
When reality finally righted itself again Bob and Gerard realized that they were in fact no dead but in an entry bay on a ship.
“Gerard, what kind of ship are we on now?”
“I’m not sure, but I think I like it.”
Just then the door opened with an irritatingly happy sign, and thought the door walked a robot.
A tallish, gangly, angular robot with a depressed air about it, it was also holding a gun.
“Stand up.” It waved the gun at them half heartedly.
They stood up, mostly because the floor wasn’t that comfortable, the robot didn’t seem all that threatening.
“Me with a brain the size of a planet and what do they do? I’ll tell you, they say hey Mikey kid, why don’t you slouch off and see who those two dudes are that just popped in are, oh and bring them up to the control cabin.
They thought it might cheer me up a bit.
They were wrong.
I have a genuine people personality you see, a prototype. It’s a complete failure.” Mikey walked, slowly, almost painfully, back to the door.
It sighed happily again, “I hate it when they do that. Are you two coming?”
Gerard pulled out his towel, it never hurt to have one handy. Bob just continued to look confused.
They made slow progress as Mikey was dragging his left leg slightly.
Bob tapped Gerard on the shoulder and leaned into to speak into his ear, “Why is the robot limping?”
“I can hear you,” said Mikey, “as for my limp, there is a shooting pain all up and down the diodes in my left leg, not that anyone will listen to me,” he sighed hugely and looked even more dejected that he previously had.
Several more of the irritating doors later, (some of them spoke, saying in happy little voices things like ‘thank you for giving this simple door the pleasure of opening for you.’ Gerard looked ready to kill them,) they reached the control cabin.
Mikey walked through the door first Gerard following with his towel wrapped partly around his head. Bob just followed trying to look calm and resisting the urge to hide behind his own towel.
“I’ve brought the prisoners,” said Mikey as though it pained him greatly to speak.
“Thanks kid,” said the figure in the room.
Mikey simply walked into a corner, slumped against the wall and powered off.
The figure turned, he was on the short side, dark hair hanging in his face, but short elsewhere, he had a lot of tattoos, and oddly enough, three arms.
Gerard’s face lit up when he say him.
“Frankie,” he practically squealed before walking over to him.
“Gerard!” He practically launched himself at Gerard.
When they reached each other Frank all but climbed Gerard like a tree. They kissed enthusiastically for a lot longer than Bob really felt comfortable having to witness; they eventually broke apart somewhat reluctantly.
“Bob, this is my semi-half cousin twice removed, Frank, he’s the president of the galaxy!”
“Hi earthman,” said Frank with a slightly scary grin in Bob’s direction.
Bob blanched slightly, he was pretty sure people who were related shouldn’t greet each other with quite so much toung action.
“Hi,” he said uncertainly.
They really didn’t pay any attention to him.
“Frankie, why’d you get the extra arm?”
“I thought it might help my guitar playing.”
“Has it?”
Bob decided they weren’t that interesting, plus he was a little worried they might start making out again.
He wandered over to the control panel, but before he could touch anything someone else came into the room.
“Hi Bob.”
He turned around, “Ray?”
He’d met Ray at a couple a couple of months ago, the music had been crap but they’d really seemed to be hitting it off.
He’d gone to get them another round and when he’d got back Ray was disappearing into the crowed with someone, who in retrospect looked a lot like Frank.
“Sorry about ditching you, he said he had a space ship that looked like a guitar. It sounded interesting.” He gave a shrug, “so how’s Earth?”
“Extinct.”
“What?”
“Extinct, it got blown up.” Bob noticed Ray’s hair deflated before he did.
“My guitars are all gone?”
“Uh yeah, sorry, if it makes you feel better so are my drums.”
“It does, a little.”
“Good, so is there anything to drink on this ship? Because I’m pretty sure after the day I’ve had I deserve to get really, really drunk.”
“Follow me, I think this calls for your introduction to the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. It’s so strong that there are rehabilitation centers set up for people who drink them.”
Bob’s eyes lit up, “That sounds promising.”
He followed Ray up to the galley. “Computer,” said Ray.
“Hi there guys, this is Brendon your on board computer, what can I help you with?”
“Hi Brendon, can you give us directions for making Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters?”
“Sure this guys.” He did and Bob and Ray proceeded to get very, very drunk.
What Gerard and Frank got up to is probably best left up to the imagination, or better yet, not thought of at all.
Scenes that I probably won’t ever write the story to go with
It had been 8 years since Bob had been on Earth, mostly because it was gone, however though some odd twist of humor on the universes part he found himself once more there.
The ship he’d hitched a ride with had dropped him outside of town, so he was walking back in, in the rain, with nothing more than a plastic bag containing his positions and his ratty towel.
He wasn’t having much luck getting someone to stop and give him a ride.
A car did stop eventually, mostly because he’d tripped over something and landed in the road, the car had nearly run him over.
It skidded to a stop mere inches from him and the driver had gotten out and run around to check on him.
“Are you okay?”
Bob opened his eyes and promptly fell in love.
The owner of the voice, and presumably the car, was a shortish, pudgyish guy with blue eyes wearing a hat and glasses.
He was also one of the most beautiful things Bob had ever seen.
“I’m fine.”
“Oh that’s good. Why do you have a bone in your beard, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Bob reached up and sure enough there was a bone stuck in his beard. If he remembered correctly it was from a particularly tasty rabbit he’d eaten several years previously, he’d taken a fancy to the bone and put it in his beard for safe keeping.
“So I wouldn’t lose it.” He pulled it out and put it in his pocket instead.
“Oh, that makes sense I guess.” He offered Bob a hand up, which Bob accepted.
“Can I give you a ride?”
“Sure, thanks.”
“Not a problem. My names Patrick by the way, seems only polite that we introduce ourselves after a near death occurrence.”
“Nice to meet you Patrick, my names Bob, by the way, what year is it?”
***
Bob loved it when he and Patrick went flying together. It was something he’d started to miss. Plus losing clothing at high altitude in highly inappropriate for public ways was always fun.
***
Bob was quite happy with his life as a sandwich maker. There was a rhythm to it that was almost as food as playing drums.
He’d even become accustomed to living somewhere that believed in the Almighty Bob.
As soon as he’d found that out he’d decided it best to go by a different name, now he was simply know as the Sandwich Maker. It was a quiet life, just what he’d always wanted.
Then one day a very snappy looking ship landed in front of his hut, giving all the villagers a good fright.
A hatch opened and out walked Ray, followed by a short surly looking person.
“Hi Bob.”
Bob flinched, hoping no one was near enough to hear that, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Bob had a sudden sinking feeling about the genetic deposit he’d made a couple years back when he’d needed some extra cash.
“This is our son, Pete. I decided I wanted a kid it seemed like a good idea at the time. And as it turned out the only person in the whole genetic data bank who was compatible with me was you.
Pete was fine for awhile, but then one day I dropped him off at day care when he was two and when I came back he was like this and I just don’t have the time for a surly teenager emoing all over my life.
So he’s going to live with you now. You might as well take some responsibility for the parenting; he’s your kid too.”
“But…but?”
“Thanks a bunch.” Ray walked back onto the ship, the hatch closed and it took off.
Bob looked at Pete with some confusion. Pete glared at a near by rock as though it had mortally offended him.
\o/
Date: 2007-12-07 10:07 pm (UTC)Dude, this is perfect!! I just - I - OH MAN, A+++++++++++++++++!!!!!!
*awards you the interwebz* :D
Re: \o/
Date: 2007-12-08 01:09 am (UTC)I may also be glad to know someone read this.
/end self confidence issues.
*takes the interwebz carefully* Thank you I shall treasure this always.