Forums » Sci-Fi Roleplay » Towel Day RP- Zaphod Beeblebrox party (Closed)

Synopsis (Read before posting):

This RP will be a cocktail party set in space. It is a political re-election event. The event's main sponsor is the Intergalactic Telephone Company (ITC), the largest telecom company in the universe. Your celebrity host is none other than the Intergalactic Time and Temperature lady herself, The Operator. Anytime you misdial your telephone, request directory assistance, or need to know the time and temperature of whatever planet you happen to be on, it is her recorded voice you hear.

Whether intentionally or by complete accident (perhaps being the victim of an improbability drive) you find yourself at a political rally for Zaphod Beeblebrox, intergalactic president, who is campaigning for another term in office.

Complementary Pangalactic Gargleblasters are being handled out on platters to attendees by alien and robot waiters. The event takes place on a planetoid orbiting a nearby planet. Zaphod himself has yet to arrive (and probably won't) but is supposed to attend the event.

Also readily available upon entrance to the event is a complementary babelfish in case you have difficulty in understanding any of the guests. Grab a drink, mingle with other froods and enjoy the party!

Read this intro post before responding- You can opt to bypass this encounter if you sneak in or enter some other unintended way such as teleporting into the main room.

Upon arrival, you see a small toaster on wheels with two round eyes on a stock with a red light bulb above them placed outside the door to the main ballroom. Should you approach, the little droid tilts its eyes up to you.

"Welcome gentle being....," It says in a bored sounding monotone voice. "I am U.N.I.T. 35235236466-0001A, property of Intergalactic Telephone Company or ITC for short, the presenting sponsor of today's event. ITC, we keep you connected. If you cannot understand me, please take a babblefish." Next to the droid is a box mounted to the wall. It has a picture of an orangish-yellow fish and a bunch of writing you can't read. There is a slot at the bottom with a big red button. If you press the button, a small fish like the one pictured appears in the slot for you to take.

"Mr. Beeblebrox is glad you are here in attendance and hopes he can count on your vote on election day," The toaster drones on. "Vogon poetry, weapons and fruitcake from the planet Roosu XI are strictly prohibited. Please enjoy yourself and take a 'Vote Beeblebrox' button. Let me know if I can be of any assistance..."

The droid then makes a series of whirring noises, dings several times and the red light on its head glows for a moment. There is a small explosion as it belches a cloud of smoke that smells of burnt toast and blue Gotu salad dressing that has been left out of the fridge a day too long from a vent on its side. As the cloud clears, a 'Vote Beeblebrox' button with a 2 headed humanoid on it clatters to the floor from the droid's mouth. The robot has no obvious hands or other appendages and seems unable to pick it up to hand it to you. The droid tilts its eyes down to the button and then back to you waiting expectantly for you to pick it up.

(OOC: This interaction repeats each time a new guest arrives, assuming you come in through the intended entrance.)

Among the variety of guests, the humanoid crow-like being was probably among the more exotic ones.
Jet entered the event for one simple reason: to pay homage to the greatest space pirate ever, the man that had taken the heart of gold for a joyride.
He stopped in front of the U.N.I.T. After he tilted his head, he opened his beak to repeat back to the machine "Welcome gentle being"
There where hints of croaking in his voice, but it sounded just like an audio tape that was played back with a little distortion.
Jet already had a babblefish that was feeding off his brainwaves. By some miracle, it hadn't starved already.
Still, he never met any big red button he could resist. He it it before the U.N.I.T. had even finished it's offer. The ejected fish had a very short remaining life-circle. It vanished into the beak of the curious raven-creature and had little chance to realize that it wasn't anywhere close to an ear before being swallowed.
He kicked up the 'Vote Beeblebrox'-button, and on second try it bounced off the toaster-like being and flew high enough for Jet to catch.
"Hasta la vista, baby"his voice had a strange, Austrian dialect as he left the U.N.I.T. behind. Time to mingle.
The nanoweave-poncho was an excellent piece of armor: it was lightweight and fashionable, and had only one little drawback: It actually didn't stop any harm directed at its wearer.
It was about as strong as needed to be to stop a needle. Jet would surely appreciate it if he ever attacked by someone actually wielding a needle, but right now his thankfulness was lacking: He clumsily stumbled into the room, while stabbing the button-needle wildly at his poncho to little effect,. It just refused to attach.

“Bloody hell,” The Operator groaned. “What is this rubbish?” She paused to study the tiny finger sandwiches, fruit and a few other indistinguishable hors d'oeuvres of alien origins that had been placed outside of her dressing room. Honorary hostess, indeed. What mess had she been signed up for now? On the positive, she had at least for the time being been relieved of fixing space phones.

The phone company could cough up the credits to sponsor a political event for a talentless, two-headed, two-bit hack like Beeblebrox but couldn’t pay its striking linemen? At least her little misunderstanding had been resolved.

The Operator peered down the hallway beyond the snack tray that had been left outside her door. She was dressed in a literally shimmering ball gown from Osford XIII that changed colors every few seconds with matching large, dangling earrings, replacing her normal work jumpsuit and headset. Her hair was down and ran the length of her back as opposed to its normal bun.

It was going to be a few minutes before she had to address the crowd and play celebrity MC to the menagerie of aliens, robots and other beings that were likely here only for the complimentary food and drink. Who in their right mind would vote for this being, anyway? Had it not been for the fact that she’d ended up in a jam or two and owed a few people favors, The Operator would not be here. How much longer would it be before she could return to the anonymity of her cordboard when she could tell drunk blokes who had misdialed the phone numbers from the lady-being they’d met at the bar the night before to get stuffed. “Sorry, Charlie, that wasn’t her real number she gave you… better luck next time.”

Where was the booze? Probably out in the main room with the attendees, or donors, or whatever they considered themselves. The Operator stole a peek from behind the curtain. It looked tame enough out there. Besides, everyone may know her voice, but did anyone really know what she looked like? She’d be perfectly anonymous. Anonymous anyway, until she had to step up to the mic and officially get the party going. Once she was introduced, she would have to keep her distance and avoid mingling. On the rare occasion someone identified her, they always wanted a picture or for her to do the announcement on their voicemail on their space iPhone.

It appeared that the doors had just opened. That sorry excuse for a toaster was supposed to be working the door handing out propaganda and welcoming beings to the event. At least she was getting a break from the daft little tin can. Hopefully, its duties would keep it occupied for a while at least until she could find an appropriate moment to cut out. At that point, she hoped Yoo-nit would be in his port in the space repair van, ready to make a quick jump into space and far away from this system.

The Operator spied a multi-armed alien wearing a tuxedo carrying a platter of drinks. She dashed from her cover and made her way across the room, hoping to not call attention to herself. An avian-like being wearing a long cloak type garment had just stumbled in and was vaguely headed in her direction.

She smiled pleasantly at the birdman hoping it wouldn’t attempt to make conversation as she reached for a drink from the tuxedoed multi-armed waiter. Its slithering tentacles kept the trays in motion, making obtaining the flute of whatever alcoholic concoction it contained difficult to obtain. The servant seemed to glide around the room in an unpredictable path making it more than a little challenging to pluck a beverage from the serving tray… and she hadn’t even had any booze yet!

The Operator realized the large crow-being was having its own trouble with its Zaphod button and drifted between herself and the server. It occurred to her, she was chasing the drink tray through the crowd. “Need a hand there, love,” she suddenly asked, trying to cover for the fact she was having difficulty obtaining a drink from the waiter and concerned someone might be watching her. She glanced around to see if another platter of drinks was anywhere in her vicinity.

Jet would vote for Beeblebrox, although that didn't answer the question who in their right mind would do so. Luckily for the president of space, people not in their right mind made up a rather strong voting block.
The space-raven in space looked up to the women that had at least three inches on him. Two hands were the usual amount for a kenku, and both of those were accounted for, so he gave her a blink.
Then, after the two seconds the average Beeblebrox voter needed to understand a metaphor, his eyes lightened up.
He handed her the pin with the open needle.
"It won't penetrate!" Luckily, the voiceless raven who could only communicate in audio-clips had replicated one from a rather PG-war movie, about ship-to-ship combat, although it made his voice sound overly dramatic and desperate, as if the fate of all of humanity relied on him getting the pin in place.
Yet another two seconds later his eyes got downright excited. "Need a hand there, love." he repeated in an uncanny replication of her voice, listening to it once again. He knew that voice… oh no, she has been made! Jet quickly grabbed a serviette from the nearby tray. He did so in the annoying way of someone who doesn't realize that they just had done something that other people had struggled with, and even worse, he had done so in a way that made it look easy.
The sharpie, he always carried, just in case he needed to write down some quick calculations about, say, the amount of needed explosives, and all he had to write on was a vault door. He took off the cap with his beak and started to quickly scribble words on the napkin.
At least he was unlikely to be a request for yet another voicemail, people who owned space-iPhones tended to frown upon using a pen, when a text-message would do.

As The Operator addressed the bird person, she immediately realized her mistake. Her eyes got wide with horror. The being recognized her voice. She'd been outted.! Clearly, the avian wanted an autograph as a space Sharpie was pulled from the pocket of the poncho it wore. After scrambling for a napkin, the being scribbled something down.

The Beeblebrox bling momentarily forgotten, The Operator hoped this encounter would not call attention to her. She hoped to remain incognito while wandering the floor. She still had a bit before she had to take the stage. Wait, the being did not appear to speak. Maybe it was just an attempt to make chit chat. Curiously, The Operator leaned in to attempt to decipher the scribbles on the serviette.

The space-shapie finally vanished in Jet's pocket again. He handed her the napkin and, in exchange, took the Beeblebrox-button back. Whatever was written on the napkin, for anyone with any political knowledge, she won out with this deal.

But did she?
"That again? He wants you to say those words, so he can repeat them later on. It means he likes you." Jet's old captain had explained a few years ago, and Jet was still using the old space-sailor's rough voice to explain it once again.
He gave her such a hopeful look, and he seemed so excited about getting to extend his voice, jumping up and down in place, that one had to be extra-heartless to deny him the request.
Well, until one actually looked at the napkin in question. The bird person's vocabulary was just short of some real colorful swear words, and he really hoped he could use the Operator's voice to curse or insult people in the future, so his 'request form' mainly consisted mainly of those. Also, the phrase "Have you seen my towel?" was in there, because Jet sometimes also needed practical sentences.
While the operator was reading, Jet had caught one flute from the tray (show-off!), shaking it under her nose, while the other claw-like hand pointed at the napkin. Attempted bribery had a proud tradition at political events after all!

“Need a hand there, love” she heard in her own voice. The Operator looked around. Had she been recorded? She was caught off guard in their exchange. It was then the bird person grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen from the pocket of its garment.

The Operator was sure she was going to be asked to sign the napkin and was surprised when the ravenfolk began scribbling a note. Now she was even more confused. Where had the voice come from?

The Beeblebrox bling momentarily forgotten, The Operator hoped this encounter would not call attention to her. She hoped to remain incognito while wandering the floor. She still had a bit before she had to take the stage. Wait, the being did not appear to speak. Maybe it was just an attempt to make chit chat. Curiously, The Operator leaned in to attempt to decipher the scribbles on the serviette. It should be no surprise that an avian being would not be capable of human speech. Understanding was one thing, the ability to speak a complex human language with a completely different oral cavity was quite another.

"That again? He wants you to say those words, so he can repeat them later on. It means he likes you." Jet's old captain had explained a few years ago, and Jet was still using the old space-sailor's rough voice to explain it once again.

“You can talk,” she gasped, stating the obvious. The avian being seemed excited now. Things got even stranger when she realized the list she’d been handed was a list of expletives that one did not use in polite company, but that had never stopped The Operator. She read through them to herself, just audible enough that Jet could hear her as she tried to process the list. She had a questioning tone as she spoke each word, not comprehending the purpose of what she'd been given.

When she got to the final phrase, she looked up before saying it aloud.

“‘Ave... you... seen... me... towel,” reading it as a question and adding her own unique dialect and wording instead of quoting it verbatim. The Operator had slowed down her speech as she read. The words were quite clear, but they lacked context.

"No, love, I'm sorry. Did you lose it," She asked, thinking it was a question posed to her. She studying the being's outfit a moment to confirm that it was, in fact, a poncho, and not a towel.

As she examined the garment, the giant crow snatched a drink from the tray as the many armed server circled back around. Clearly, the famous time lady was still not following what was going on or why she’d been handed this strange list. It was only by pure accident that she’d done what the oversized crow person had wanted since she had a habit of reading things aloud. Perhaps that had come from years of reading back telephone numbers to those that called in to space directory assistance or reading scripts for recorded messages for situations such as the phone line being on the fritz or the cheapskate at the space pay phone outside intergalactic EZ Mart needing to pop in another credit to continue the conversation. She appeared completely bewildered.

Meanwhile, just outside the main door, a blue police box materialized. "Well there you go," The Doctor announced. "You didn't forget your friend's birthday after all." The Doctor seemed rather pleased with himself as he adjusted his ridiculously long scarf.

"So, here we are," The Doctor continued turning to the heavy set teen with the glasses. "Not sure why you'd want to stop here of all places, but there you go. Feel free to mingle but do try to stay out of trouble. I have to go pick Romana and K9 up from Zeta IV. Enjoy yourselves and have a jelly baby. I'll be back to get you when you're done."

He held out a bag containing colorful candies as he pushed open the door to the TARDIS so the teens he was chauffeuring could step out.

Once the group of human teens exited the police box, they found themselves in a sort of futuristic events hall. At least, futuristic by the standards of a group of teenagers from the United States in the year 1982. Ahead, they saw doors leading into some sort of semi-formal dinner party.

A small toaster on wheels with two round eyes on a stock with a red light bulb above them was sitting outside the doors. Next to the droid was a box mounted to the wall. It had a picture of an orangish-yellow fish and a bunch of writing in an unfamiliar language. There is a slot at the bottom with a big red button (see Yoonit's post).

OOC: Fun fact- Douglas Adams wrote several episodes for Doctor Who during Tom Baker's time as The Doctor.

With the Operator looking as bewildered as she did, Jet thought that an explanation was order, and opened his beak, replaying some audio from David Attenborough's lesser known documentary, Life in space
"With a solemn decree, the gods stripped the Kenku of two of their most precious gifts: their voices, which once echoed with the songs of the heavens, and their ability to take flight, a symbol of their once-boundless aspirations."
He had stopped jumping in place. The last part of that quote always made him sad.
"Thus, the Kenku were forced to adapt, relying on their remarkable mimicry to communicate and survive in a world where their once-cunning voices had been silenced.
Watch closely as this clever avian creature imitates the words and sounds of other aliens with uncanny precision,"
Jet coughed, as if to prepare for a performance (as if the perfect recreation of a sound of a program he had watched years ago wasn't enough), then he repeated one of the swear words in the questioning tone of the Operator.
He didn't quite keep his volume down as much as she had done, though.
Then he repeated another swear word, just for fun, while dancing excited in place.
Any requests about towels seemed to be forgotten. "Again!" he said, once again in the harsh tone of his captain. He had heard it far too often during training. "Like you mean it!"
Then, after a moment, he added a small choir of children's voices:"Please, please, please?"

The Operator accepted the drink. She'd been distracted by trying to figure out the meaning of this encounter. She nodded her thanks. As she took a sip of the space wine that alluded her previously, something finally dawned on her.

It was then The Operator's face lit up with understanding. The kenku, the being's apparent race, had no true voice of its own. That's why the being had asked her to say those words! It was mimicking her voice! She had to admit, this was a new one on her but she had to give the Avian creature credit. That was certainly a creative ploy!

The Operator couldn't help but chuckle at the giant bird person's enthusiasm and hearing it swear in her own voice. She'd been asked to say many things over time, and the requestor often recorded it as a souvenir. The most common and overly used joke was to approach her and ask what time it was. While the request had gotten rather stale for The Operator, she never the less obliged and would respond the way she did on her recorded time and temperature announcements. First, she'd check her watch to see what time it was and and state "At the tone, the time will now be 27:88, or whatever the current time was. She'd end with pointing at the being making the request to make a tone noise at the appropriate spot.

"Again!" he said, once again in the harsh tone of his captain. He had heard it far too often during training. "Like you mean it!"
Then, after a moment, he added a small choir of children's voices:"Please, please, please?"

She didn't recognize the voice the avian was using and wasn't sure what she was being asked now.

"Do what again love," She asked. "Swear like a space pirate? Haven't ya already got me sayin' that? What about telling you that the number you reached is no longer in service? Not just a classic of mine, but that one could come in handy if you ever get stuck talking to some block you want to get away from!"

“Don’t mind if I do!” said Matt when the Doctor offered them jelly babies. He reached into the bag blindly and grabbed one, not caring what flavor it was. He got an orange one, which he promptly popped into his mouth.

“Jelly babies? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them,” said Shelley, eyeing the bag curiously.

“They’re basically the British version of jelly beans, but much softer. You can ask George Harrison about that if you don’t believe me,” said Matt.

Shelley frowned, not knowing what Matt was talking about (which wasn’t at all unusual, though Matt was unusual). “Well, speaking of Beatles, what the heck is this beetle box you keep talking about, and why would somebody want to see one? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Not ‘beetle box’; ‘Beeblebrox’, as in Zaphod Beeblebrox, the intergalactic president. Which makes perfect sense, because as we all know, two heads are better than one!” explained Matt.

Shelley glanced at the third teen, hoping Tabby had some kind of explanation since she certainly wasn’t getting one from Matt. Then she returned her attention to the proffered bag of jelly babies and chose a red one, guessing it would be either strawberry or cherry. It turned out to be cherry. “Thanks, Doctor!” It still felt weird to her to be calling this guy just “Doctor” without appending some name after the honorific. He claimed to be a doctor, but Doctor who?

As soon as the Doctor opened the TARDIS door, Matt grabbed Shelley by the wrist and started pulling her along at a high rate of speed toward a door that appeared to be guarded by a small toaster-like robot, while occassionally looking to make sure Tabby was keeping up, Although Shelley's legs were longer than Matt’s and she was in better physical shape than he was, she was having trouble keeping up, mostly because it was hard to run in her high heels. “Matt, slow down! What’s the big hurry?” she said, sounding exasperated.

“I want to get there in time to be the forty-second person to join the event,” he replied.

“The forty-second person? But why?” said Shelley, sounding even more exasperated.

“Because 42 is the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything!” he answered, as if it was obvious.

“Matt, that’s crazy! What kind of 'ultimate question' like that could possibly have an answer as simple as just the number 42?” said Shelley.

“What’s six times nine?” said Matt.

Shelley looked at him in confusion, befuddled by the sudden change in topic. “Fifty-four. Why?” she asked.

“No, I mean that is the question. ‘What do you get when you multiple six by nine?’ And the answer is 42!”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” exclaimed Shelley.

“I know! Isn’t it great?” said Matt just as they were about to arrive at the door where the little robot was stationed.. “Clearly, there’s something fundamentally wrong with the universe!”

Jet was still standing by the Operator, trying and mostly failing to communicate. Kenku communication were just increddible flawed. It was impossible to be a Kenku and not develop angelic patience or anger issues, or, in rare cases both.

He took the serviette again, and, with the motions of an experienced gunslinger, performed a quick draw on his space sharpie.
Then he put the serviette down on the nearby table.
After the first swear word, he drew a question mark.
Then he repeated it in the questioning tone of the operator.
The oversized bird shook his head, scribbled out the question mark and added an exclamation mark in its place.
"Like you mean it!" he repeated.
After all, he didn't want to ask someone if their face had inspired several Vogon poets, he wanted to accuse them of it!

There was a certain mismatch with his body language and his tone, the words of the old captain were harsh and commanding, but Jet gave the Operator his best puppy dog eyes. He was just a simple bird, who could deny him the gift of insults to throw around?

Suddenly, his gaze changed once again. His eyes narrowed, and suddenly his head snapped to the side, pointing at the entrance. He was pretty sure he had heard the words jelly babies.

The Operator studied the Kenku a moment. It dawned on her the tone she had used when reading the list of words wasn't what he wanted. She'd said the desired word but her inflection was all wrong.

"Oh, right, love," The Operator exclaimed. "I said the words but not the way you wanted. Is that the issue? Want me to give it another go?"

She picked up the napkin again awaiting confirmation. Suddenly, something seemed to distract him. The bird person's attention seemed to be drawn to the entrance. The Operator turned to see what might be going. She didn't hear any kind of commotion, although more guests were starting to trickle into the room now.

Shelley glanced at the third teen, hoping Tabby had some kind of explanation since she certainly wasn’t getting one from Matt. Then she returned her attention to the proffered bag of jelly babies and chose a red one, guessing it would be either strawberry or cherry. It turned out to be cherry. “Thanks, Doctor!”

Tabby just shrugged at Shelley as Matt went on to explain who Beeblebrox was and about how 42 was the meaning of life. She pulled out a book from seemingly nowhere. "It's all in the guide apparently," Tabby explained pointing at the cover which had the words "Don't Panic" inscribed in large friendly letters.

"I'd read it, but I have Matt to explain it," Tabby added. Unlike her friends, she wasn't about to settle for a random jelly baby. She fished through the bag until she found a purple one which was obviously grape flavored.

Not wanting to wait on the others, she stepped out of the blue police box and raced ahead of the group. She spotted the toaster-like robot and walked up to it. The droid tilted its big round eyes up to her. It looked like something off of Jim Henson's Muppet Show.

"@#%(*^%$##@&&%$#$#," it said speaking in a language the red haired teen didn't understand in a droning, deep monotone voice.

"Uh, come again," Tabby asked biting her lower lip and twisting a lock of her red hair around her finger.

Back in the TARDIS, a taller bearded man wearing an Atari t-shirt, shorts, flipflops and an open Hawaiian shirt emerged from a corridor and joined the others at the door of the police box after wandering the massive interior.

"I heard the words jelly babies," Gary proclaimed. "This ship is amazing Doctor!"

Gary helped himself to a candy from the bag and got a yellow one that tasted like lemon. He then turned to the others and said, "It's too bad Trevor and Starla aren't here. They won't believe this!"

Gary peered out and saw Tabby interacting with a small primitive looking droid that appeared to have been made from a steampunk-style toaster.

"Hey Matt! Check that out," Gary called out as he stepped out of the TARDIS as Matt eagerly dragged Shelley toward the main entrance to the event hall. He pointed toward Yoo-nit.

Jet was more curious about the blue police box spewing out person after person. He tilted his head, trying to figure out if it was just an elevator he had missed, or if this was some high-tech space clown-car.
His eyes returned to the operator, and then tugged her gown in an attempt to get her attention back.
"Want me to give it another go?" he repeated before nodding decidedly. There was even a small cartoon sound empathizing the movement, although very observant observers might notice that it was provided by Jet's beak.
Once again, a children choir of hopeful "Please"s came her way.

Of course Jet, being a hypocrite, always took another peak towards impressively scarfed man and ragtag bunch of teens, being obviously distracted about once every 40 seconds or so, before quickly giving the Operator his somewhat divided attention once more. And of course, in return. he demanded her full attention, always being ready to give her gown another little tug.

"Want me to give it another go?" he repeated before nodding decidedly. There was even a small cartoon sound empathizing the movement, although very observant observers might notice that it was provided by Jet's beak.

Once again, a children choir of hopeful "Please"s came her way.

The Operator nodded. The kenku seemed distracted. The birdperson's attention was split between the newcomers entering the main hall and her. "Alight, love," The Operator agreed. "Lemme try it again. This time, like I mean it."

She read through the list with inflection so when the phrases were repeated, they were in the correct context and had more practical meaning. Hopefully, the avian would be satisfied and she could slip away. After all, there were plenty of interesting beings here to interact with.

The Operator took quick notice of a robot on a horse. It appeared to be an electric monk. People, and indeed things, looked more sincere on a horse. It was bipedal with two legs.

Two legs were held to be both more suitable and cheaper than the more normal primes of seventeen, nineteen or twenty-three; the skin the Monks were given was pinkish-looking instead of purple, smooth and soft instead of crenellated. They were also restricted to just the one mouth and nose, but were given instead an additional eye, making for a grand total of two. A strange-looking creature indeed. But truly excellent at believing the most preposterous things. It sat quietly in the corner observing its surroundings.

The Operator finished reading the list and added her signature line. "This... is a recording." She then handed the napkin back.

A human youngly wandered over to Yoo-nit.

"Welcome gentle being....," It says in a bored sounding monotone voice. "I am U.N.I.T. 35235236466-0001A, property of Intergalactic Telephone Company..."

As Yoonit finished its greeting, the humanoid stared at it blankly. The small droid tilted its eyes to the bablefish box on the wall and back. Several more humans, probably her companions were headed that way.

Yoo-nit started it's greeting over as the group came closer. "Welcome gentle being....," It says in a bored sounding monotone voice. "I am U.N.I.T. 35235236466-0001A, property of Intergalactic Telephone Company or ITC for short, the presenting sponsor of today's event. ITC, we keep you connected...

(OOC for newcomers- please read the first 3 posts before posting).