Day 3 - SK Hit: A Maniac, Maniac on the Floor

As Danibot walked down the intricately detailed hallways of the far northern wing of the hotel, he was deep in thought. Note pad in hand, he had spent the past thirty-seven hours counting the many tiles that adorned the hotel floors. While not exactly Atlas writing, raw facts like this were the bread and butter of the exciting business he hoped to one day take part in.

As he turned a particularly well tiled corner, he came across something he hadn’t expected. Women. Three of them, each beautiful specimens of femininity. Blue skinned, scantily clad (in accordance with north wing dress policy), with long orange hair that fell just below their tails, they were everything Danibot looked for in the opposite gender.

It should be noted that The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy did not originally have a chapter on women, as the topic was thought to be too broad and complicated to be contained within the physical confines of the electronic book. Women were nonetheless considered to be an important aspect of life, and the enjoyment thereof, and so a temporary entry was made by staffer Ford Prefect shortly before his departure from Earth. In keeping with the quality and effort Ford usually put into his work, the entire section was copied nearly verbatim from a previous entry he had written about hotels. It reads as follows:

Women are by far the most enjoyable place one can stay while away from home. While a majority of women may be financially impractical for the average hitchhiker, they do come in many shapes and sizes, and therefore able to cater to a wide variety of guests. Thus, one should note, that all women are subject to their own socioeconomic laws of probability. For example: the less money you spend on your woman...

And so on.

As the trio of women giggled and spoke amongst themselves in a language he didn’t understand, Danibot thought he might impress them with a demonstration of his dancing ability. Women always loved a professional, and there was no one more professional than he. First, however, he would have to break the language barrier.

He rushed over to the nearby Babel Fish dispenser, a tall glass aquarium with a dozen or so of the marvelous fish swimming about inside (Babel Fish, of course, being a natural translator of all spoken language, if you could build up the courage to stick one in your ear). He pressed the appropriate buttons, and a fish popped out, but along with it flowed a sizable amount of the nutrient solution it swam in, leaving an unseemly puddle at his feet.

Danibot reached for his towel to mop it up, but found he had misplaced it somehow, and as the women seemed quite ready to go about their business with or without him, he decided to forget the fish and the towel and just get right to the dancing.

As he began, the reaction he got wasn’t exactly what he had hoped for. The women began pointing at his feet and screaming hysterically, and one of them even jumped up on a nearby table, which confused him, as his dancing made him quite a decent living back home. Thinking it might be the dance itself they were averse to, he changed it up and tried a little Riverdance, but his feet, in their fury, caught the edge of the nutrient spill, and sent his legs flying out from under him. His neck hit the ground first, made a wet snap-like noise, and caused the girls to scream even more. Definitely not what he was going for, but he supposed it didn’t matter now, being dead and all. His last thought, before passing over to the ever after, was that he wished he had taken better account of where his towel was.