So, I've had this idea for awhile… I have a major, bordering on unhealthy obsession with the Gorillaz, and I'm a fan of Douglas Adam's "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" series, so I thought "Why not combine the two?" I've really not much to say on the matter, apart from the fact that I sadly do not own either, though I would like to. The writing should speak for itself, I think (and if it doesn't, I'll have to see that the voices in my head stop saying it will). Your advice is valued, so if you would like to tell me how I can improve the writing style, or anything else for that matter, please tell me. I apologize for the insanely short chapter. All future chapters will be much longer.
Years of space travel could do odd things to a man from Earth, whose sole purpose in life had been to be a bad influence on all those he met, but this particular odd thing had thrown this particular man from Earth for a particularly dizzying loop.
He kept finding himself thinking of his home planet—which was normal enough in itself for any species of galactic traveler. What wasn't normal for this galactic traveler was the fact that he was thinking about his band. An uncounted number of years past (why not call it one, for the sake of simplicity?), exploring the wonders of the unknown universe, and already he missed that load of losers.
It had taken the aging Satanic rocker ages to figure out what the specific emotion involved here was, and he had been shocked to discover that he missed anything at all from the planet of his origin, least of all the Noodle, Russel, and What's-'is-name. How could he? He had everything he needed right here; money from intergalactic sperm banks, plenty of booze, a copy of the best-selling book in the universe, and, most importantly, a grubby, pink towel.
The only thing he had left of the old days were the two metallic personalities he had salvaged from the wreckages of Kong Studios and Plastic Beach respectively, and they weren't much in the way of company. As much as he hated to admit it, he was lonely…
Thus, Murdoc Niccals found himself hitchhiking back to the coordinates he had long ago abandoned, ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha, with no clue whether or not he would be returning to the glorious offerings of the wide universe, or more importantly, if he would ever get to drink another Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.