And it Burns 150 Calories an Hour!
By: Leenie Jackson/Galsan Blit/ Kira Nerys/ Collzort/ Ford Prefect

Preface to the Preface

Well, this is my first all late-night story, which means you might not be able to comprehend it. All the parts that I have put up here were written past 10:00 pm. It’s kinda weird, cos I switch styles of writing from the SGC to the HOG, and also I haven’t done ANY research for it, and I have been MSTing my own story as I write it -the number of MSTings depend on how late it is when I write that particular part of the story - oh, and any part in brackets is my MSTing -, so the cheesy parts are meant to be cheesy!!! And there are some inside jokes (with the Messhall Chorus, The XFFF, etc.), so...yeah. The Preface is so you can see the creative process that I went through when I first started to write this story (in bed on a blue scribbler), and it shows you how I think up my plots. Enjoy, and PLEASE, feedback would be REALLY REALLY REALLY appreciated!!!!!!!

Thanks,

Galsan Blit / Leenie Jackson. . . etc.

Preface

Welcome to Galsan’s it’s-damned-late-and-I’m-zarking-tired-and-i-freaking-hate-computers and i-have-a-headache bitter story that I feel like writing, and not completely exclude Teal’c like most evil scum do.

But first I need a plot.

Um.

Not repeating-day things. That’s too 3:30am-ish.

No alternate universes, that’s really really overused.

No character deaths. Aside from Aral’s hoopy little story, I’m sick of ‘em.

Crossovers.

Hehehe.

Trek? Hmmmm...it has possibilities. Maybe later, but not tonite.

Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?

Yes, yes that will do nicely.

Okay.....

Gate....on Heart of Gold. Zaphod thought it looked pretty and bought it. Marvin? Oh, yes, let’s include him in this. I’m getting tired of non-Marvin stories, and he’s so fun to write for.

Okay, then. Let’s get started here. I’m in a better mood already.

*ahem*

"...And it Burns 150 Calories an Hour" by Galsan/Leenie etc., Started on October 7th -zark it, my pencil’s running out of lead, good thing this didn’t happen in the middle of those math or social tests- , 1999, 10:45 pm.

Story

Part One: At the Base, Same Old, Same Old.

Sg-1 was heading for -insert long and boring number that staarrrts with a ‘P’ here-. (At least, I THINK it usually starts with a ‘P’.) (Cos the P is for Planet??) (Oh, who the zark cares.) Another day, another routine mission. However, being that SG-1's ‘routine missions’ usually ended up with a lot of zat guns and/or staff weapons being used(which Jack liked), cultural problems (which Daniel liked), space/time anomalies (which Sam liked), and a whole lot of people running around and falling down (Teal’c liked that. He usually got to carry the people after they had fallen down. Teal’c liked to carry people.); it wasn’t really all that comforting. Sam thought it might have to do with the ‘lucky number one’ or being Hammond’s favourites or something like that. After all, if any of the OTHER teams -say, SG-6- got into trouble, they were usually all killed before anything could be done about it. (DUH! That’s why the show is called Stargate: SG-1 and not Stargate: SG-6!!)

In any case, they sent the M.A.L.P. out as usual, and got the usual results....trees, humanoid aliens peering at the M.A.L.P., trees,some interesting cultural junk, more trees, sky, yet more trees, and trees. (It seemed that all alien planets had a lot of trees, especially those of the species found in South-East British Columbia.)

So, having gone through with that particular preliminary procedure ("...and you adore alliteration ad nauseam!"), the team packed up - Jack with his extra stash of arsenal (a little bit more never hurt anyone, did it?), Sam with her copy of Quantum Mechanics for Dummies, Daniel with his handy-dandy pocket glasses cleaner, and Teal’c with his scented head wax - and walked through the Stargate, into an exciting new adventure (close captioning brought to you in part by Ben Moss Jewellers)!

PART TWO: Take One Sip of A Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, Then Another, Then, -Hey, What the Zark Are Those Funny People Doing in My Ship? FORD...This is Your Fault, Isn’t It!!!!!!!????

On the bridge of the Heart of Gold, Zaphod was -as usual- mixing himself a hoopily newly-mixed Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. Marvin was in the corner, watching himself rust. Trillian and Arthur were drinking hot Earl Grey tea and playing Trivial Pursuit. Ford was examining the large object standing in the corner that looked rather like the Wheel of Fortune propped up and fixed on a little holder thingie and a ramp.

Ford walked up to Zaphod, who was busy with his precious drink. "Zaphod? There’s something seriously wrong with this circle thingie that you bought."

Zaphod stared at him. "Circle thingie?"

Ford sighed. "At that market, on Algerras B . . . there was a really pretty girl who sold it to you..."

Zaphod nodded and smiled with both heads. "Right-o. THAT circle thingie. Zarquon, that was a pretty girl. I liked her hair. She had really nice hair. And she-"

Ford cut him off. "Listen, Zaphod, there’s something.... strange with that thing. It is emitting power fluctuations that seem to come from nowhere! They’re messing up the Electronic Thumb’s readings. . . I think it might have something to do with the Improbability Drive. We really should get it off this ship!"

Zaphod frowned, trying to concentrate. "Uh, yeah. Whatever. Wanna drink?"

Ford sighed in exasperation. "This could be a serious threat. . . but still. . . ." Ford shrugged. He started to mix himself a PGGB. All the worries about the circle seemed to float away as he drank. Zark, he though, Why worry? Why not even have a little fun with it? He walked over to Arthur. "Hey, earthman. You see that circle thingie over there?"

Arthur looked up. "Yes. Looks a bit like the wheel on Wheel of Fortune. Always liked that show. I’ve got tapes of it, back on Earth. Ah, Earth. God, how I miss it. The tea. The television. The little hotdogs that they would sell for a dollar outside the supermarkets in America. How I miss it all. There was this wonderful lake down by my house. I used to go down there on Sunday afternoons and read the paper. Of course, I never actually got to read it, because of the sand from the beach flying around and blowing in my face, and trying to find a comfortable spot, and chasing after my paper after the wind had blown it into the water, and trying to find large rocks to hold it down with, and then the . . . . . . . ."

About fifteen minutes later, Trillian was snoring softly, and Ford had finished his PGGB and had enough time to get sober, thus completely losing any molecule of interest he may have hitherto invested in Arthur’s droning. Arthur was just finishing up, in any case. "..... well, I know it doesn’t really seem like I might have gotten much done at the lake, but it was, in essence, the image that matters most, and as a child I had always cherished the image of reading the paper down at the lake on a warm Sunday afternoon, the sun glinting off of the shimmery water, slowly beginning to descend in the East -or is it the West, I could never remember, but -"

"Arthur," Ford interrupted, "you know that circle thingie over there?" Arthur started to reply, but Ford rushed on. "Well, it’s been emitting streams of energy fluctuations for a while now. Arthur, I think it’s gonna explode. It’s gonna kill us all!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Arthur cried before huddling in a corner with his hands over his head, whimpering. Ford giggled. He loved doing that.

Just then (suddenly!) (All of a sudden...) (At that moment-) (just then,) (i said that already, didn’t I?), there came a loud sound from the circle-thingy. Ford whirled around. (Whirl!) (Whirl!) Out of the circle-thingy came a large stream of watery substance that was sucked back in a moment later. Zaphod looked up. The watery substance was replaced by a shimmering blue sheet that covered the opening of the circle. Trillian slowly stood up, frowning. Four figures appeared out of the blue shimmery thing. Marvin hummed a concerto that he had composed in the last few minutes to himself. The figures, which turned out to be people, stared at the group in confusion.

One of the people stepped forwards. "Uh, hello. My name is Daniel Jackson. We come in peace."

Trillian rolled her eyes. "Oh, and I suppose you want us to take you to our leader, too."

Daniel stepped back. "Uh, what?"

Zaphod stepped down from the controls. "What. The Zark. Are you doing. On. My. Ship. This is very, very, not groovy."

One of the other newcomers spoke up, or at least he muttered to himself. "My god, I’m in a sixties BBC hell."

"BBC?" Arthur perked up from the corner. "I used to work for them, back on Earth...."

The blonde lady stepped down from the circle. "What IS this?"

Zaphod frowned. "This is The Heat of Gold. The Heart of Gold is my ship. You are on the Heart of Gold. I don't like it when people are on my ship without asking!"

The older man with the hat eyed Zaphod. "And who are you?"

Zaphod looked insulted. "You mean you haven't heard of...." he paused for the right amount of dramatic tension. "The great Zaphod Beeblebrox? The ex-president of the galaxy? Inventor of the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster?"

"No."

"WHAT? You...I...you haven't..." Zaphod spluttered.

"Waidaminute, waidaminute, waidaminute," the hat man stepped forwards. "You," he pointed at Arthur, "worked on Earth? Recently? For the BBC?"

"Yes," Arthur squeaked.

"Sir," the woman said, coming to stand by the hat man. "This could be some sort of new Goa’uld army, from Earth of today-"

"-Or Earth of the seventies and sixties. . ." the hat man interrupted her.

"In any case," she continued, "something is obviously wrong here. This is NOT where the M.A.L.P went. There must have been some sort of interference, a space-time flux or something. I’ve never seen anything like it before."

"Hey hey hey," Zaphod began, "you’re from Earth? Zarquon, you’re just a bunch of un-groovy strags. Therefore, I can ignore you." He turned back to his Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.

Ford stepped forwards. "Okay. So you’re from Earth. But did you leave before or after it was destroyed, or are you using some sort of time machine. And what does the Improbability Drive have to do with this?"

The hat man frowned. "Okay, so you. . . we. . Earth was, uh, Carter, you deal with this."

The lady glared at him, then turned to Ford. "Oookkaaayyy. So, uh, first off. Earth was...destroyed?"

Ford shrugged. "Yeah."

"Uh, WHEN?"

"Hmm...." Ford frowned. "I don’t remember what year exactly. Earth has a very different system of years from the rest of the galaxy. Sometime in the....late 1970s, I think. On a Thursday."

Carter just stared at him. "The. . .late 1970s?"

Ford nodded. "On a Thursday."

The first one to speak, the glasses man, spoke up again. "And, um, why do you all have British accents?"

Zaphod laughed with one head while the other continued to drain his PGGB. "Zarquon, man. Everyone who is anyone knows that the whole galaxy speaks like this if they speak English! Only backwater planets like Earth have accents other than this!"

"No, no, wait," the lady said. "Where we come from, our reality or whatever -in which, by the way, the Earth has NOT been destroyed-, only a few of the worlds that we visit have people with British accents. For example, Teal’c here."

"That is correct, Major Carter." The tall, bald man with a gold thing in the middle of his forehead spoke for the first time. Everyone turned to look at him.

"Well," said Zaphod. "He’s obviously from a backwater planet then, isn’t he?"

"No, here, I’ll show you. Come with us, back through the Stargate."

"You mean the circle thingie?" Zaphod looked puzzled.

"Back to.....Earth?" asked Arthur tentatively. "Earth that....hasn’t been blown up?"

"Yes."

"YES!!!!!!!"

The lady looked around. "So, where’s your DHD?"

"Our what?"

"Your Dial Home Device. You know? It’s big, with symbols on it?"

Zaphod scratched his left head. "I dunno. Was it supposed to come with this...Star Gate?"

Ford glared at him. "I TOLD you it seemed too cheap! It’s missing a part! That’s the LAST time I’m going shopping with you!"

"Well, that’s it then. We’re stuck here."

"WHAT!!!" The hat man stared at the lady. "STUCK IN MONTY PYTHON LAND!?!?!"

"Okay, wait, calm down, Jack," the glasses man took off his glasses and started to clean them on his shirt. (Why? cos they were dirty, that’s why! Stop picking on Dannyboy!) We don’t even know who you people are." He indicated the crew of the HOG. "Well, except for Mr. Beeblebrox."

"Zaphod."

"Oookkay."

Glasses man -Daniel, right? Yeah, he said he was Daniel - looked around at he rest of them expectantly. Finally Trillian spoke. "I’m Trillian. I’m from Earth too."

"I’m Arthur." Said Arthur. "Arthur Dent. Arthur Philip Dent. You’re really from Earth?"

Daniel just kind of smiled and nodded and ignored Arthur.

"I’m Ford Prefect."

"From Earth too?" The lady raised her eyebrows.

"No. Near Betelgeuse. And this rusting heap we like to call Marvin."

"Not," droned a rusty voice like a garage door opening, "that they actually like to call me anything. I’m not needed here except for menial labour. God, I’ve got a brain the size of a planet, and they want me to do menial labour. Can you see the irony in that?"

He fell silent. "Marvin," Ford explained, "is a Genuine People Personalities robot prototype. It didn’t work out. Long story. Now it’s your turn. Who the zark are YOU?"

"Well. . .I’m Sam Carter. You already know Daniel. This is Teal’c. . ."

"And I’m Colonel Jack O’Neill. We’re SG:1, which stands for Stargate Team One.

"Hmmm...SG One," Arthur mused. "Like, Simon and Garfunkle One. Or Silly Geese One. Or Scarily Gangrenous One. Or-"

"SHUT UP, ARTHUR!" Ford, Zaphod, and Trillian chorused.

Jack ignored all of this. "We come from obviously a different universe or something from you," he continued, "and since Carter seems to be understanding that better than me, I’ll just let her talk to you about that later. What I want to discuss right now is how we sent our M.A.L.P. out and saw a scene totally different than this?"

"Well. . . ." Ford looked at Zaphod and saw that he was probably too wasted to talk, so he went ahead. "That would probably be the Infinite Improbably Drive. It...well, it basically takes the most improbable things that could happen and make it happen. Basically."

Daniel pushed up his glasses. "Hmm. Maybe that’s how I ended up with two sets of parents that died, one set in a plane crash and the other set by a piece of falling Styrofoam." (Sorry, I just had to address that issue. ;-P)

"The Infinite Improbability Drive?" Jack snorted incredulously (probably just saying the name makes his head hurt!) "Well it better un-improbability us or . . ."

"Look," Trillian interrupted. "Why don’t we just get you guys somewhere to stay here for the night. I mean, there’s nothing we can do right now, and our Fearless Leader isn’t able to stand up. . ." From under the control panel Zaphod gurgled something unintelligible. "So here, I’ll show you to your rooms, okay?"

"Sure." Jack started to follow Trillian down the hall. Teal’c and Daniel followed him.

"Uh, Mr. Prefect?"

"Ford."

"Yeah, well, I’d like to talk with you. You seem to know more about space travel and this Improbability Drive than anyone else. I’d like to discuss this alternate reality thing. Is that okay?"

"Sure!" Ford leered at her. "I’ll get us some drinks."

"No."

"What?"

"No drinks. And if you think I’m going to sleep with you, forget it."

"Zark. Ah, well. Here, I’ll get Marvin to drag Zaphod out so we can be alone. . ."

Sam sighed and fingered her gun. She had a feeling Ford didn’t give up very easily.

Part Three: Did You Know That Banging Your Head on the Wall Burns 150 Calories an Hour?

Daniel, Jack, and Teal’c were all sitting around in the small white and green room that Trillian had shown them to. They has been there for an hour, and were incredibly bored and not-tired. Teal’c was ‘meditating’, Daniel was finding interesting new ways to wear his glasses (if that sounded sick, it weren’t supposed to. Ya know, you wear your glasses upside-down and the whole world looks different! Or maybe i just have too much free time on my hands..), and Jack was banging his head slowly on the wall.

Suddenly (all of a sudden. . . just then- no, I’m not going to start that again!) Sam burst into the room, glaring.

"Hey, Carter!" Jack smiled, "What’s happening?" (That phrase amuses me.)

Sam looked as though she could strangle a goose. "The crew of this ship are the most ANNOYING people I have EVER met!"

Daniel had his glasses held out in front of his face and was squinting through them. "Why?"

"First of all, their so-called ‘Fearless Leader’ is an ex-hippie who is so drunk that he doesn’t know which way is up! That’s almost as bad as that Ford person who, though he may know almost as much about astrophysics as I do, uses every opportunity he can get to use some stupid pickup line on me. There’s that amazingly dense tea guy who keeps coming up to me asking if I am sure Earth is really still there, and that perky ‘Trillian’ girl. Oh, and the android of theirs who just explained to me why the whole universe doesn’t matter anyways, so why bother. AURGH!" Sam paced furiously around the room.

Suddenly (i seem to like that word, don’t i) the room stared to shake. Sam was thrown against the wall, Jack to the floor, Daniel to the ceiling, and Teal’c....well....he just stood there.

"Holy Hammond!" Jack shouted (credits to Cap’n Kate and Ellsie), "What the hell was that?" He pushed open the door and started to run towards the bridge. It was rather amusing for Daniel and Sam to watch, as, since the ship was still shaking about, he would run a couple steps, then be thrown into a wall. Then a few steps more. Then he would crash into the floor. Then he lurched around the corner, and Sam and Daniel couldn’t see him anymore. So they followed him, staggering like drunks down the hallway, trying vainly to keep any hold on the concept of balance that they could.

Jack burst into the bridge to find Zaphod snoring slightly, Marvin humming to himself, Arthur in a ball in the corner with his hands over his head, Trillian trying to talk to Arthur, and Ford at the controls, pressing buttons frantically.

Jack grabbed Ford by his collar and hoisted him up into the air, which wasn’t too hard, since Ford was at least half a foot shorter than Jack. "WHAT the HELL is GOING ON?" Jack demanded.

Ford grinned manically and pointed to the viewscreen. "Take a look for yourself!"

Jack dropped Ford, who landed on his feet and went back to pressing buttons. On the viewscreen, which, Jack presumed, showed what was happening outside of the ship, there was a huge yellow blob. Little points of grey were shooting out of the blob and coming towards the Heart of Gold.

Jack made a grab for Ford, but Ford moved back quickly. "Listen you little jerk, if you don’t tell me what that blob is, I’m gonna . . . . just TELL ME!"

Ford smirked. "It’s a Vogon ship. It’s attacking us. I’m trying to think of what we can use to get away from it."

Jack turned as Sam and Daniel came rushing up. "So, here’s the situation: we’re being attacked by a yellow blob controlled by the ‘Volgas’ or something. The captain of this little vessel is, at the moment, passed out on that chair over there. We cannot get home, we’re in the hands of an incompetent, idiotic British alien, and I’m going to check to see if there was any funny stuff in my coffee this morning!"

"Sir," started Sam, but was interrupted by Ford as he saw Teal’c come into the room.

"That’s IT! Ha HA! You! Come here! Yes, you, the one with the golden coaster on your head!"

Teal’c raised his eyebrow.

"Okay, you’re scary, right?" Ford pulled Teal’c over towards the main controls. Teal’c raised his eyebrow.

Ford gave a grin that gave SG:1 the impression that he belonged in a huggy shirt. Then he got out a pair of holder things (ya know, those cooking utensils that you use to hold corn and stuff? They kinda look like scissors?) and rummaged around with them in one of the many stacks of paper lying around. He came up with a small piece of paper, and holding it as far away from himself as he could, held it out to Teal’c. Teal’c raised his eyebrow and took it.

"It’s Vogon poetry," explained Ford. "The third-worst kind in the universe."

Teal’c raised his eyebrow.

"What you do," said Ford, "is read it out loud when I say ‘go’. The Vogons, upon hearing their horrible poetry back at them from a big scary guy with a coaster on his head, will be too terrified to do anything! So we can get away!"

Teal’c raised his eyebrow. Ford moved over and pressed a button. "Okay...GO!"

Teal’c stared at the paper and started to read. "The vordlebiggies of my tallumphias kudos, to eat the wumphering lulluos, they seer the maccoing kespeers."

The Vogon ship stopped firing.

"...Lispering trembles of chaos, it bellies an octurnal teacup."

The Vogon ship started to back off.

"...and, in triumphant vordlebras reigns, the ending maloflouos."

The Vogon ship flew off.

"Ha HA!" Ford yelled.

"Great," Jack sneered. "You’ve managed to solve YOUR problem. But when it comes to finding the DHD. . . ."

Ford ignored him.

"Hey, guys," Daniel spoke up from over near Marvin. "This robot is really neat. I’d love to study all the information he has. Do you think that once we get back to the SGC we could take him with us for a while, Mr. Prefect? Just to study him. . . ." (aww...he’s so cute. Can we keep him?)

"Oh," droned Marvin, "Of COURSE. Not, ‘Marvin, could you please visit us if you have some free time?’ Not even ‘Marvin, you’re coming with us.’ No, it’s ‘Mr. Prefect, could we borrow your robot?’ Like I was a coffee table. Oh, yes, yes, start renting me out, why don’t you. As if I were a used car. I have a brain the size of a planet, and all you want to do is charge an hourly rate for me. (That sounds sick. It isn’t supposed to sound sick.) Next you’ll be wanting to rip out my ‘Dial Home Device’ as you call it to make a matching pair with that Stargate over there. Why me? Oh, I loathe the day I was made."

By this time, everyone was looking at Marvin except for Zaphod, who was accumulating a nice little pile of drool underneath his open, snoring mouth.

"WHAT?" Jack stalked over. "You have a DHD and YOU DIDN’T TELL US?" He pulled out his gun and pointed it towards Arthur and Trillian. "Hey, Lady. You and Housecoat Guy there. Drag your little ‘Captain’ over there to that wall, and stand against it, hands up."

"Hey! I happen to like this housecoat," squeaked Arthur from his corner.

"Uh, Sir. . . ." Sam moved over to Jack. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Making sure these. . . .people. . . . don’t lie to us anymore. If they lied to us about the DHD, they could be in service of the Goa’uld for all we know. Hey! Ford, or whatever your real name is. Over there!" he motioned with his gun.

"Actually," said Ford, walking calmly over to the wall with his hands up, "We didn’t know about that. Marvin never tells anyone anything unless they ask."

"Riiigght. Shaddup and get over there." Jack fingered his gun.

"Colonel, I think they’re telling the truth." Sam looked up at him.

"Major, we’re just gonna dial home and get out of here."

Sam frowned and stepped away.

"Okay, robot guy. Mickey. Get over here."

Marvin slowly, grindingly stood up, as if it was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. He clanked over to Jack. "Okay. Dannyboy, you dial us home while I make sure these yahoos don’t move."

Daniel went over to Marvin, whose ‘stomach’ opened up, revealing a miniature DHD. Daniel started dialling.

With a desperate yell, Ford flung himself at Jack. Teal’c promptly shot him with a zat gun. That ended that.

"L-l-l-look," started Arthur, "You don’t h-h-have to go uh, p-p-pointing those guns at us. WE haven’t done anything wrong."

SG:1 just stared at him. Gaining confidence from this, Arthur continued. "Whatever it is you’re holding us here for, it isn’t our fault. It was probably Ford’s fault. It seems that everything is Ford’s fault. And since you’ve um. . .dealt with him, you can just go home and stop pointing those guns at us. Uh, Okay?"

The gate whirred into existence. Arthur cowered. "Sure," said Jack. "Bye."

SG:1 stepped through the gate.

Part Four: Epilogue.

After the rather...interesting...debriefing, SG:1 decided that they would go back to the Heart of Gold and study it to see if they could find out exactly what the crew there had to do with the Goa’uld. However, when they dialled up that same long number that usually starts with a ‘P’, sent the M.A.L.P. through and saw the same small-village scene that they had seen before, and stepped through the gate, they ended up in that small village, with a lot of English-speaking people who had not yet encountered the Goa’uld.

And a lot of trees.

However hard they tried, no one at the SGC had been able to reproduce the anomaly that diverted SG:1 to the Heart of Gold. Jack thought that that might be a good thing.

Part Five: Other Epilogue.

The day after SG:1 left, Zaphod woke up, not remembering any of the visit and suffering from an awful hangover. Ford woke up saying that, really, those weird guns didn’t have as much of a punch as Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters. Arthur sulked in his room for a week because he had just ‘lost’ another cute girl from Earth, when he was so sure that she liked his methods of cowering. Trillian went and played ‘Solitaire’ on the computer, beating it three times straight.

And Marvin discovered that his memory banks had saved Earth’s gate address.