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"You want me," said Mr Prosser, spelling out this new thought to |
himself, "to come and lie there ..." |
"Yes." |
"In front of the bulldozer?" |
"Yes." |
"Instead of Mr Dent." |
"Yes." |
"In the mud." |
"In, as you say it, the mud." |
As soon as Mr Prosser realized that he was substantially the |
loser after all, it was as if a weight lifted itself off his |
shoulders: this was more like the world as he knew it. He sighed. |
"In return for which you will take Mr Dent with you down to the |
pub?" |
"That's it," said Ford. "That's it exactly." |
Mr Prosser took a few nervous steps forward and stopped. |
"Promise?" |
"Promise," said Ford. He turned to Arthur. |
"Come on," he said to him, "get up and let the man lie down." |
Arthur stood up, feeling as if he was in a dream. |
Ford beckoned to Prosser who sadly, awkwardly, sat down in the |
mud. He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he |
sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying |
it. The mud folded itself round his bottom and his arms and oozed |
into his shoes. |
Ford looked at him severely. |
"And no sneaky knocking down Mr Dent's house whilst he's away, |
alright?" he said. |
"The mere thought," growled Mr Prosser, "hadn't even begun to |
speculate," he continued, settling himself back, "about the |
merest possibility of crossing my mind." |
He saw the bulldozer driver's union representative approaching |
and let his head sink back and closed his eyes. He was trying to |
marshal his arguments for proving that he did not now constitute |
a mental health hazard himself. He was far from certain about |
this - his mind seemed to be full of noise, horses, smoke, and |
the stench of blood. This always happened when he felt miserable |
and put upon, and he had never been able to explain it to |
himself. In a high dimension of which we know nothing the mighty |
Khan bellowed with rage, but Mr Prosser only trembled slightly |
and whimpered. He began to fell little pricks of water behind the |
eyelids. Bureaucratic cock-ups, angry men lying in the mud, |
indecipherable strangers handing out inexplicable humiliations |
and an unidentified army of horsemen laughing at him in his head |
- what a day. |
What a day. Ford Prefect knew that it didn't matter a pair of |
dingo's kidneys whether Arthur's house got knocked down or not |
now. |
Arthur remained very worried. |
"But can we trust him?" he said. |
"Myself I'd trust him to the end of the Earth," said Ford. |
"Oh yes," said Arthur, "and how far's that?" |
"About twelve minutes away," said Ford, "come on, I need a |
drink." |
================================================================= |
Chapter 2 |
Here's what the Encyclopedia Galactica has to say about alcohol. |
It says that alcohol is a colourless volatile liquid formed by |
the fermentation of sugars and also notes its intoxicating effect |
on certain carbon-based life forms. |
The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy also mentions alcohol. It |
says that the best drink in existence is the Pan Galactic Gargle |
Blaster. |
It says that the effect of a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster is like |
having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped round |
a large gold brick. |
The Guide also tells you on which planets the best Pan Galactic |
Gargle Blasters are mixed, how much you can expect to pay for one |
and what voluntary organizations exist to help you rehabilitate |