Ownership Disclaimer: Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy, nup. My imagination I do, and pov too.
Inspiration: From my BF and one of her f/b friends, that I call the Blue Pointy Man and real first name is Paul. Hello Paul, here is a gift imortalizing something in computer ink.
Music Inspiration: Black Betty by the awesome AC DC, pronounced Acka Dacka.
Thank you: Blue Pointy Man, that I can melt down and you were there for me, albeit via f/b.
Warning: May have Trigger Warnings. Mainly due to my insane imagination, that my own Fight Club organises. Not that I can talk about that! There are no plot bunnies to take any credit! They're off down the rabbit hole with 'those whose name I can not mention here', because I'm trying to clear my mind of 'them'!
~ Blue Pointy Man collides with Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy ~
Trillian looked at her arm. She'd been scratching in her sleep. Not a normal thing for her. Zaphod check her arm, with all four eyes. Two wouldn't focus, looking around the room with concern, the other two, attached to his main head, looked very closely.
"Hmm! Not sure Trill, don't really know what to make of it." His third arm scratched his head as the other two held her arm up close and moved the cute blond hairs. "Your arm is definitely red, from your scratching and other than twinkles of light blue and bright pink, there's nothing else there." Resistance to nibbles and kisses along and up to where X marks the spot, were futile.
His two main eyes, looked into her two pretty, but freaking out eyes. Hers were wide with alarm, and her mouth was a little 'oh'. If the Cheshire Cat were present, nobody else could have a smile wider than Zaphod's dopey grin.
Twinkles of light blue and bright pink continued to move over her body. He blinked from realization that they were definitely on the move. Knowing she wouldn't go back to sleep, he got up and searched for some more medication.
Trillian, unfortunately was still numb from the night before, and other than scratching she couldn't think of getting out of bed. As she lay there waiting for Zaph, she tried to ignore the itch, which was now nibbling at her ears.
Closing her eyes, she could hear music playing. Not her particular relaxing music, this was more pounding of rugs to a beat. The lyrics are what raised her eyebrows.
Whoa, black betty bam-a-lam
Whoa, black betty bam-a-lam
On the dresser, at the end of the bed, is a snow globe of Earth. It's changing Christmas colours and playing the weirdest tune…
black betty had a child bam-a-lam
the damn thing gone wild bam-a-lam
Trillian's mind wanders to the Public Servant who had grabbed her arm, two days before. She wonders if she picked up a virus from him. It had been a mad Monday and all things were possible. Zaphod, Ford Prefect and herself had gone to the rally. They were protesting about the tunnel construction being dug, despite the majority of the state being against it.
The nearby residents had awoken to protestors filling their street, mixed with police and camera crews. Half way up the street there was a stall from a local charity group, raising money by holding a sausage sizzle. Trillian, Zaphod and Ford knew the protest was a futile effort, but they had to blend in with the Earthlings until Marvin called.
Zaphod's second head had spooked the police horses, who then jumped through barriers, knocking over old ladies resting on their walkers. And as the domino effect continued, the Public Servant was there to catch the gorgeous blond. He had to make it look innocent, so when he grabbed her arms, he left bruises from an aggressive man-handling. And that's what all the papers would write and all the tv stations would say: Public Servant Man-Handles innocent protestor.
"We haven't been notified of construction works!" complained the residents. Just like the Earthlings would complain about the plans for Earth being destroyed to make way for a hyper space …
"Well, the plans have been available in the usual places where we lodge these notifications." One of the government officers said, just like the ones for Earth.
Some of the protestors formed a prayer chain and began their chants for "Harmony, Love and Public Transport for all to afford." This tune soothed the horses into a lulling slumber. And the author is feeling sick from too many onions with her purchase and not enough tomato sauce.
"Well, I don't know about you two, but I think we should get a move on. We have to find Arthur before Marvin calls." Ford opens his satchel and is relieved to see his towel is still there. "You just never know, these sorts of gatherings bring out the loonies."
"You know Ford, like you might be the loony!" Zaphod's attempt at humour falls dead as light blue and bright pink twinkles sparkle on Trillian's arm. "Hey Trill, what have you got there?" he points at her arm and as they look down at it Ford's phone rings.
"Incoming call from Marvin." Obvious ring tone, with the heaviness of boredom, sarcasm and a droid who should not know how to park cars. "Incoming call from Marvin. Please answer the phone. It's like I haven't got something better to do than phone you."
"Hey Marvin, how you going?" Chipper Ford answers, regretting taking the call the moment he speaks. "Right." He paraphrases what Marvin says. "Like you've got nothing better to do than phone us. Right, well now that you have what is our plan? Oh right again. I'll go on and get Arthur and you'll come and pick up Trill and Zaphod. Sounds like a choice plan. We'll see you then."
He hangs up without waiting for Marvin's further depressing words, notices the glittering colours from Trillian's arm are moving and behind her a house has started to shake from the loud music. "Well, we better high tail outta here. Marvin will meet you two in the parking lot and I've got to find Arthur."
They go to walk toward the house with loud music, so loud it makes the windows shake and the dust vibrating out from the open door settles uneasily, the wind picks it up and carries it further. Ford kneels down to tie one of his shoe laces. He looks up and the three of them are mesmerized as the occupants can be seen dancing and cleaning.
Whoa, black betty bam-a-lam
Whoa, black betty bam-a-lam
She said "it weren't none of mine" bam-a-lam
the damn thing gone blind bam-a-lam
Inside there's a little girl dressed in a very bright pink track suit. She and her brother, who has a matching track suit, only light blue, are sweeping the floor, tidying up their beds and throwing their toys away to the sound and beat of the music. They look at each other and sing…..
I said oh black betty bam-a-lam
whoa, black betty bam-ba-lam
"Here's your soccer ball…." She throws to her brother, who nets it and it falls in the laundry hamper. He plays the air guitar as the music piece comes to the fore.
Whoa, black betty bam-a-lam
Whoa, black betty bam-a-lam
She really gets me high bam-a-lam
You know that's no lie bam-a-lam
In the lounge room Mum and Dad, dressed in older age versions of those track suits, do the same. A family alike in too many ways. They're dancing together and singing loud to one another…
She's so rock steady bam-ba-lam
she's always ready bam-a-lam
He dips her back in a Hollywood move,
Whoa, black betty bam-a-lam
Whoa, black betty bam-a-lam
Twirls her around and she smiles lovingly at him as she thumps his chest with…
Whoa, black betty bam-a-lam
Whoa, black betty bam-a-lam
She turns her back to his front and twists just in front...
She's from Birmingham bam-ba-lam
way down in Alabam' bam-ba-lam
He scoops her up, spinning and as she lands…
Well she's shakin' that thing bam-ba-lam
boy she makes me sing bam-ba-lam
She makes bobby socks visible as her legs lift in cheerleader moves…
Whoa, black betty bam-a-lam
Whoa, black betty
BAM-BA-LAM guitar centre stage again
The kidz come to be with their parents. Dad plays the air guitar, son beats on the bench as drums, mum and daughter play the pretend tambourines in the air and on their hips…
Yea-Yeah!
BANG!
The house joins a mixture of imploading and exploading. Light blue and bright pink tiny pieces of questionable existence fall over the Earthlings, Ford Prefect, Trillian and Zaphod Beeblebrox. Not one soul noticed, because time had stood still without concern.
These bangs would become more frequent as the time of Earth's demise neared, just like the notifications on railway lines of approaching rail line works.
Zaphod turns to Trillian, who turns to Ford who stands and looks at them. "Right!" Hands by his side like a little school boy. "What were we talking about?" All three shrug and walk down the street and out of view of the camera. Ford whistles, even though he knows it annoys Trillian. Trillian tries to avoid Zaphod holding her hand…
~ the lighting fades and comes back up a little later ~
Zaphod hands Trillian the medication. She takes the necessary tablets and puts ointment on her rash. "I can hear little people calling." Her high pitched, happy as voice pierces the air.
He looks at her, like she's dumb. "Right!" waits for her to continue…. "And what do you want me to do with that information Trill?" he follows her gaze to the snow globe of the Earth…
"I rememer that you and I met up with Marvin. And he bought us here. But where is Ford?" she blinks a million blinks, that makes his little heart flutter.
"Um, well…" he giggles like there's a secret he's not allowed to reveal. "Well…ummm."
~ threads of something ~
Ford waves Marvin, Trillian and Zaphod as they take off in their spaceship. It gets smaller as it goes higher.
"Ford, what are you doing?" Arthur stands alongside Ford and looks upward where he's looking and waving.
"Oh, hi Arthur. What, nothing, nothing." Dismissing as he does. "So, have you got your towel?"
"What? Why don't you answer my questions…? Wait up Ford." Ford has walked off to the house, not waiting for Arthur's reply. He never really waits for Arthur to answer or do anything. Prefering to do things for him, like he's a helpless Earthling. Which, let's face it, he is.
As Arthur takes a step inside, Ford meets him with a bright red fluffy towel, with a very tiny light blue thread sitting in the lining of its edge. "Right, here you go Arthur. Come with me."
"Ford, I wish you would answer just one of my questions. It's like you treat me as some imbecile. What do I need this for again?" They stop and look at one another. Ford looking up at Arthur, looking down at him. Both without any great expression on their faces. Not expecting anything from the other. Two brothers from other mothers, of different species, but looking human. One in pyjamas, slippers and a heavy brown chequered dressing gown. The other, in an overcoat just one size too big, normal shoes, normal everything.
Ford very, very cute, Arthur hmmm, cute in a different way. They both look at the camera, the author looks at them, and all three shrug, wondering what the script was again! Oh yeah, that's right, the plot bunnies are on leave…
"Come lie down with me Arthur." Ahem! "What! I most certainly will not lie down with you." Arthur argues as he lies down with Ford, copying him rolling his towel up and putting it under his ankles.
"What are we doing this for again…?"
~ sitting on/in edges ~
If Ford had noticed the crack in the edge glass of his mobile phone…
If Arthur had looked at the edge of his towel…
If Trillian had paid closer detail to the sounds in her ears…
If Zaphod had brushed his hair once in a while…
They would have all noticed the strands of light blue and bright pink cotton. Threads that weren't real cotton. Threads so thin, grabbing on for dear life. Able to avoid brushes, being tweezered out, removal of any description.
And on closer inspection, these threads were really teeny tiny creatures of yesterday. Creatures looking far into tomorrow, back at yesterday but existing in the here and now.
Mostly happy families, or families appearing happy. They had pets of the feline, canine even the camelid variety. Men who were real men, who loved their wives, adored their wives, did lots for their wives and only had one wife. And of that wife, those wives, they loved their hubbies back, front, feet and hmmmm.
Those who were fortunate enough, had children, offspring and during winter, summer and autumn. Those who weren't equally fortunate, would make do being Aunts or Uncles or dedicated Llama shepherds.
Those single gals and guys loved the footy, adored Geelong and made the most of what came their way.
Extra author notes from a cute little author: So what did you think of my shtory, Hmmmm?