Probably Improbable - 4/4
It's finished! I actually did it! (Perhaps a mistake, in view of the massive pile of homework my teachers would have me believe is more important). Anyways, here is Part Four for your delectation and general amusement. Enjoy!
Title: Probably Improbable - 4/4
Fandoms: Jeeves & Wooster, H2G2
Rating: G
Warnings: None. You may comfortably read this to your young 'uns gathered round the fire.
Disclaimers: I own niet, nadah, nothing. All love and praise to the late, great Wodehouse and Adams.
Summary: What's a Wooster to do when interstellar hitchhikers show up unannounced?
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
“You intrigue me, Jeeves. What do you mean?”
“Only that Mr. Dent was telling me about a certain ‘Nutri-Matic’ machine that has been causing him considerable distress. It was my thought that I could reprogram it for him. Would a visit to a spaceship be agreeable to you, sir?” Behind the permanent stuffed-frog demeanour, I thought I could detect a sharp glint of excitement in the fellow.
“Jeeves, I would love to go. But how would we get back? ‘One way deal’, remember?”
“Fortunately, sir, my device collapses down to a convenient size for travel. We could take it with us and set it up at the other end.”
“Brilliant, Jeeves! After you then, Arthur.”
So that was now Jeeves and self ended up on a spaceship a million miles from Earth. While Jeeves was off fixing Arthur’s machine, I was offered a tour of the facilities.
“Not that I really want to do it,” groaned the strange automaton called Marvin that had offered to be my guide. “Brain the size of a planet and they ask me to be a tour guide.” He injected the final words with every possible ounce of loathing.
“Why do you do it, then?” I asked, puzzled.
“I’m a robot; it’s in my programming,” he replied desolately. “Did I mention I’ve got this terrible pain in all the diodes down my left side?”
“You may have done, yes,” I agreed. Ten minutes of this fellow’s company would be enough to crush even the brightest of spirits.
“Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner it’ll all be over,” moaned Marvin.
“Oh, right. Err… good.”
Thus commenced the most lethargic, miserable and downright depressing hour I have ever experienced. Every interesting fact or scintillating piece of information was delivered in a flat monotone curiously reminiscent of one of my old schoolmasters. When I tried to liven up the conversation with some cheery banter about Perkins’ chances at Lord’s this year, I was met with a frosty silence that would have done credit to Aunt Agatha.
Finally, we returned to the control room, just in time to see Jeeves emerge through another door. He looked, and brace yourselves here, dear readers, dishevelled. His hair stuck up on end, his collar dangled loosely and his shirt was smoke-blackened but his face bore a contented smile. In short, he looked like a man who has faced insurmountable odds and managed to surmount them after all. At his side, he swung a large mallet.
“I believe I have been able to convince the machine of the error of its ways and it should now function satisfactorily,” he informed Arthur. Then, turning to me, “Did you enjoy your tour, sir?”
“I didn’t,” interjected Marvin in sepulchral tones.
Jeeves gave him a Look. I could almost see the lecture on the proper feudal spirit forming at the front of his mind and decided to head it off.
“Yes, it was very interesting,” I told him.
“Sooo…” said Zaphod, reappearing suddenly. “It’s been great meeting you guys but, y’know, one dopey Earthman’s enough for me. No offence Arthur.”
“None taken,” beamed Arthur, clutching a steaming cup like his first-born child and giving Jeeves a look of fervent worship.
“Well… if we can offer you a lift anywhere…?”
“No, thank you, sir,” said Jeeves. “We can make our own way back. And may I suggest not using the Improbability Drive when the Background Improbability is greater than three to one?”
Tricia McMillan nodded and initiated a second round of awkward goodbyes. Finally, with an uncharacteristically dramatic flourish, Jeeves unfolded his device and we stepped once more through the portal to London. As we left, I distinctly heard Marvin say, “Good riddance,” but I forbore to mention it.
Once through, Jeeves removed the magnets from the device and made strange, sweeping motions with them.
“I say Jeeves,” I said in alarm, “are you feeling all right? You don’t think you’re a canary, do you?” I was remembering Sir Roderick Glossop’s tale of Lord Somebody who thought he was said bird.
“No indeed, sir. I am merely attempting to excite the electromagnetic field to such an extent that the wormhole will close.”
“Is that really necessary, Jeeves? We could make a feature of it, what? Modern art, you know.”
“I fear that it may have an undesirable effect on your wardrobe as it becomes more unstable. I was able earlier to prevent most of your clothes from being ingested, but I regret that some of your ties and a hat were simply beyond my control.”
I felt the beginnings of a suspicion. “Which ties, Jeeves?”
“There was the one with the… humorous illustrations, the acid green one and the present from Miss Basset, sir.”
I shuddered. “The one with the embroidered kittens? I’d have shoved that through myself if I’d thought of it. But the other two! What you’re saying is that you stood back and let my favourite ties go capering off into space! And I suppose the hat was my new one with the purple band?”
“I apologise, sir. If it is any consolation, I always felt it made you look somewhat sickly.”
“I suppose you’re right. And after all, who could begrudge you a couple of ties after the sterling work of this afternoon?” I said resignedly.
Jeeves will always have his way in matters sartorial.
Title: Probably Improbable - 4/4
Fandoms: Jeeves & Wooster, H2G2
Rating: G
Warnings: None. You may comfortably read this to your young 'uns gathered round the fire.
Disclaimers: I own niet, nadah, nothing. All love and praise to the late, great Wodehouse and Adams.
Summary: What's a Wooster to do when interstellar hitchhikers show up unannounced?
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
“You intrigue me, Jeeves. What do you mean?”
“Only that Mr. Dent was telling me about a certain ‘Nutri-Matic’ machine that has been causing him considerable distress. It was my thought that I could reprogram it for him. Would a visit to a spaceship be agreeable to you, sir?” Behind the permanent stuffed-frog demeanour, I thought I could detect a sharp glint of excitement in the fellow.
“Jeeves, I would love to go. But how would we get back? ‘One way deal’, remember?”
“Fortunately, sir, my device collapses down to a convenient size for travel. We could take it with us and set it up at the other end.”
“Brilliant, Jeeves! After you then, Arthur.”
So that was now Jeeves and self ended up on a spaceship a million miles from Earth. While Jeeves was off fixing Arthur’s machine, I was offered a tour of the facilities.
“Not that I really want to do it,” groaned the strange automaton called Marvin that had offered to be my guide. “Brain the size of a planet and they ask me to be a tour guide.” He injected the final words with every possible ounce of loathing.
“Why do you do it, then?” I asked, puzzled.
“I’m a robot; it’s in my programming,” he replied desolately. “Did I mention I’ve got this terrible pain in all the diodes down my left side?”
“You may have done, yes,” I agreed. Ten minutes of this fellow’s company would be enough to crush even the brightest of spirits.
“Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner it’ll all be over,” moaned Marvin.
“Oh, right. Err… good.”
Thus commenced the most lethargic, miserable and downright depressing hour I have ever experienced. Every interesting fact or scintillating piece of information was delivered in a flat monotone curiously reminiscent of one of my old schoolmasters. When I tried to liven up the conversation with some cheery banter about Perkins’ chances at Lord’s this year, I was met with a frosty silence that would have done credit to Aunt Agatha.
Finally, we returned to the control room, just in time to see Jeeves emerge through another door. He looked, and brace yourselves here, dear readers, dishevelled. His hair stuck up on end, his collar dangled loosely and his shirt was smoke-blackened but his face bore a contented smile. In short, he looked like a man who has faced insurmountable odds and managed to surmount them after all. At his side, he swung a large mallet.
“I believe I have been able to convince the machine of the error of its ways and it should now function satisfactorily,” he informed Arthur. Then, turning to me, “Did you enjoy your tour, sir?”
“I didn’t,” interjected Marvin in sepulchral tones.
Jeeves gave him a Look. I could almost see the lecture on the proper feudal spirit forming at the front of his mind and decided to head it off.
“Yes, it was very interesting,” I told him.
“Sooo…” said Zaphod, reappearing suddenly. “It’s been great meeting you guys but, y’know, one dopey Earthman’s enough for me. No offence Arthur.”
“None taken,” beamed Arthur, clutching a steaming cup like his first-born child and giving Jeeves a look of fervent worship.
“Well… if we can offer you a lift anywhere…?”
“No, thank you, sir,” said Jeeves. “We can make our own way back. And may I suggest not using the Improbability Drive when the Background Improbability is greater than three to one?”
Tricia McMillan nodded and initiated a second round of awkward goodbyes. Finally, with an uncharacteristically dramatic flourish, Jeeves unfolded his device and we stepped once more through the portal to London. As we left, I distinctly heard Marvin say, “Good riddance,” but I forbore to mention it.
Once through, Jeeves removed the magnets from the device and made strange, sweeping motions with them.
“I say Jeeves,” I said in alarm, “are you feeling all right? You don’t think you’re a canary, do you?” I was remembering Sir Roderick Glossop’s tale of Lord Somebody who thought he was said bird.
“No indeed, sir. I am merely attempting to excite the electromagnetic field to such an extent that the wormhole will close.”
“Is that really necessary, Jeeves? We could make a feature of it, what? Modern art, you know.”
“I fear that it may have an undesirable effect on your wardrobe as it becomes more unstable. I was able earlier to prevent most of your clothes from being ingested, but I regret that some of your ties and a hat were simply beyond my control.”
I felt the beginnings of a suspicion. “Which ties, Jeeves?”
“There was the one with the… humorous illustrations, the acid green one and the present from Miss Basset, sir.”
I shuddered. “The one with the embroidered kittens? I’d have shoved that through myself if I’d thought of it. But the other two! What you’re saying is that you stood back and let my favourite ties go capering off into space! And I suppose the hat was my new one with the purple band?”
“I apologise, sir. If it is any consolation, I always felt it made you look somewhat sickly.”
“I suppose you’re right. And after all, who could begrudge you a couple of ties after the sterling work of this afternoon?” I said resignedly.
Jeeves will always have his way in matters sartorial.