Don't Panic... Don't Panic... Don't Panic

[researcher42.livejournal.com]

Near midnight Ford had been in the Ravenclaw common room/bar reading a book and having a drink (or perhaps several drinks, depending on how interesting the book turned out to be). This had become something of a ritual for him, at least on nights when there was nothing more exciting to do. He had managed to taste-test most of the bar's offerings, including magical libations he had never heard of before. He found that fire-whiskey was far better than it sounded, elf-made wine far worse, that the pirate's rum actually tasted of the tropics and the open seas, and that Telosian Ale packed almost as much disorientation per ounce as the cheapest Ole Janx Spirit.

At least, he assumed it was due to the Telosian Ale that he suddenly found himself sprawled on a couch in the library with absolutely no recollection of how he had got there or why there was a lit cigarette in his hand.

I don't smoke, he thought to himself, looking at the object in his hand. Then he looked at the hand. Wait a minute, that's not my hand. These aren't my clothes either... and the body in them doesn't seem too familiar. What the hell is going on here?

He caught sight of his reflection in one of the library's glass cases, only it wasn't his reflection - he found himself looking at the disheveled visage of Bernard Black.

Ford sighed and took a drag of the cigarette. "Let me guess, an improbability factor of 8,869,704 to 1 against?"

Comments

[bookofcalm.livejournal.com]

Bernand had sent him out hours ago. All the liquor they had here, and he was insisting on some bizarre exotic concoction no-one had ever heard of.


"I don't want to hear it, I don't care how late it is, do you know how bloody hard it is to find cachaça in Scotland?"

[researcher42.livejournal.com]

Ford looked around. Oh good, someone else was here, maybe he would know what had happened.

"What? Never mind about that. Do you know what's going on here? Why am I not me? And where am I for that matter?"

[bookofcalm.livejournal.com]

"You've been at the paint thinner again, haven't you?"

[researcher42.livejournal.com]

((*snerk*))

"Huh? No. Alright, that all sounded mad, but I'm not crazy. I'm also not Bernard. I mean, I look like him, it's his body and all, but I'm not him, right? I got switched into his body or something. Or my body got changed to look like his. I'm not sure which, but something like one of those. But really I'm still me. That is, I'm Ford."

[bookofcalm.livejournal.com]

"You what? Is this like the time you were convinced you were a box of dried apricots?"

[researcher42.livejournal.com]

"A little bit. Was he, uh I, actually a box of dried apricots? Or did I, um he, just think he was? Never mind.

"It's all very simple. I look like Bernard, but I'm not Bernard. I'm Ford Prefect. Something very strange has happened, but then strange things happening is not at all unusual here.

"I'm sure The Guide has something to say about body swapping..."

Ford looks around and realizes that his satchel is no where to be seen.

"Zark. My stuff must be with my body. Bernard probably is too. I don't suppose you've seen me around anywhere, have you Manny?"

[blacks-thecolor.livejournal.com]

On the way to the library, Bernard stopped in front of a mirror to remind himself who Ford was, exactly.

Ah. That fellow. A horrible suspicion gripped him and he stormed into the library.

"What did you do with my cachaça?"

[researcher42.livejournal.com]

Ford watched himself, or in fact Bernard, storm into the library. He looked upset. It was odd seeing himself looking upset and storming into the library when he knew he had done no such thing. He decided not to think about it anymore or he go crazier than he already was.

"Manny couldn't find any," he said calmly.

It wasn't true. He'd finished it off at lunch. It had been pretty good - maybe he'd mention it in his next guide entry.

[blacks-thecolor.livejournal.com]

"Worthless, moss-faced layabout." He flung himself into the nearest chair and started searching his... Ford's... pockets with increasing frustration. "Where are my cigarettes?"

[researcher42.livejournal.com]

Ford shrugged, "Smoke 'em if you got 'em." He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his, Bernard's, pockets and tossed them to the other man. "I brought some wine from the bar. Tio Pepe's, it's strong, and Spanish, and tastes like antifreeze. It's on the desk if you want some."

[blacks-thecolor.livejournal.com]

"Right..." Lighting a cigarette, Bernard reached for the wine, swigging straight from the bottle. "Urgh, that's disgusting. Did you only bring the one bottle, then?"

[researcher42.livejournal.com]

"The rest is down in the great hall. You saw the flier? I'm planning on getting everyone drunk before they switch back - it should be entertaining."

[blacks-thecolor.livejournal.com]

"Waste of liquor. Al those people..." he wiggled his fingers, "milling about, talking about their love lives and their artillery and their fancy hair care regimes. Worthless, all of them."

[researcher42.livejournal.com]

"You may be right. Maybe we should go liberate the drinks before they can be wasted."

[blacks-thecolor.livejournal.com]

"Yes, yes we must. We can't leave defenceless alcohol at the mercy of those savages."

[researcher42.livejournal.com]

"The we should leave at once!"

((I'll start a new post for the Great Hall party/alcohol liberation operation.))

[blacks-thecolor.livejournal.com]

((gotcha))