http://galactic-prez.livejournal.com/ (
galactic-prez.livejournal.com) wrote in
milliways_bar2005-08-16 06:13 pm
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Galactic president inna bar.
Actually, sleeping inna booth, with a magazine portraying the question What in God's name is our president up to now and why won't he just abdicate already (pg. 5) lying over his face. On the seat next to him is an empty-looking glass cage, which looks as though it was supposed to have been a present for a suite-warming.
Maybe.
Why don't you wake him up and see?
Actually, sleeping inna booth, with a magazine portraying the question What in God's name is our president up to now and why won't he just abdicate already (pg. 5) lying over his face. On the seat next to him is an empty-looking glass cage, which looks as though it was supposed to have been a present for a suite-warming.
Maybe.
Why don't you wake him up and see?
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"Tell 'em why is none of their business."
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"It's a great article," he tells her conversationally. "I particularly like their interview with me. Go on, read it. Who knew I was an Aquarius and was a closet tabgo-dancer?"
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"... interviewing you without actually talking to you, were they? Well. Maybe they need a bit of a talking-to from Val."
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"I prefer the real interesting you to the made-up supposedly-interesting not-you. So, who are they saying you're dating, these days?"
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"Eccentrica Gallumbits, Prime Minister Alianti, God, Arthur..."
He stares.
Closes the magazine.
"Well, there you go, darlin'."
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"The others I think I could probably see, especially Alianti. God would probably suffer from self-esteem issues around you."
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He pulls her down and whuffs as she lands on his stomach. "And never Alianti. I'd date Arthur first."
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"I guess I'd get parvo then, too. And I'd rather not get parvo," she inputs, kissing him, "so don't do it, okay?"
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He ruffles her hair and grins up at her.
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She scrinches her nose up at him, smiling foolishly.
"And your arms are quite comfortable to be in, my dear. The extra one adds a sort of emphasis - the question is, though, can I picture you and Fenny together."
No, not really.
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"Perish the thought. We'd never get anything done. Besides, then Arthur'd have my head, and even I can't go without at least one head, baby, even if two is a little much.'
His third arm goes around her waist and he shifts down on the booth seat under her.
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"But I don't know if you'd be able to handle dating Fenchurch. She's even harder to follow than I am. And part of me's ready to write a treatise to these reporters about what you're really doing. Not that all of it would be true, but they'd at least get your whereabouts and your girlfriend right."
Well, maybe.
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"If I were the editor of this publication, I'd fire this reporter for a headline like that."
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"And believe me, I'd know. Zaphod Beeblebrox, Galactic President." He salutes her lazily with one hand, while the other two toss the magazine away.
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"Chloe, huh? Well, baby, you introduce yourself with that anytime after the Revolt on Grand Trandal 6 and you'll find yourself in jail in no time."
He thinks.
"Or crowned Great High Mungleshon, I can't really remember. It's all a bit foggy, y'know?" He grins at her. The magazine falls open to an interview between him and a distraught looking reporter.
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Chloe looks down and notices the interview. "He doesn't look very happy."
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"You wouldn't be, either, if you were interviewing a fake me."
He holds up the magazine. Noticeable now is the fact that they had taken a picture of the reporter with a stand-up cardboard cut-out of Zaphod.
This is most evident by the fact that Zaphod in the photo has a speech bubble coming out of his mouth that says "Presidents elect Starbix cereal."
He considers. "Well, not on me, but we could go and see what they say."
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"In that case, you'll need this."
It's smoking slightly.
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