HHGTTG - The Lost Chapters

by Douglas Adams

  Everyone was sitting around a magnificent table, covered by a magnificent feast. The last time Arthur had seen food like this he had found mice on the table. He checked before sitting down. Fenchurch took his hand and squeezed it.

  "This incredible," she whispered in his ear.

  "I propose a toast," shouted Ford, not knowing the acoustically perfect design of the room would swell his voice to that of a Welsh Male Voice Choir. Everyone lifted their glasses.

  "To Zaphod, Trillian and the kids. May your futbulions never cross and your buquabs never separate."

  Only Zaphod appreciated this ancient Betelgeuse toast, but they all drank to it. As they prepared to gorge themselves, Zaphod stood up.

  "Did you get us a present?"

  "Zaphod!" Said Trillian through clenched teeth.

  "Well, they're expected to bring a present. Still, never mind if you haven't, I've enough presence for all of us."

  Zaphod was the only one to laugh, as was usual for his attempts at humour.

  "Actually, we have," said Arthur, mystifying everyone. He rummaged through his carrier bag and produced some circuit boards. "Sorry they're not gift wrapped."

  "Hey, thank you," falsified Zaphod. "I'm touched, we're touched that you thought of us. What are they?"

  "Marvin, or at least what's worth keeping."

  "So that's where he got to!" Exclaimed Zaphod. "Where's my coat?" His demand went unanswered and the horrified looks from around the table demanded an explanation. "I sent him to the Big Bang Burger Bar to get my coat which I left behind. Perhaps I should have given him the return fare."

  "Marvin is dead?" Whispered Trillian, tears brimming in her eyes. She only remembered the good times, or to be more accurate, the less than lousy times, when Marvin complimented her, or at least was inoffensive towards her.

  "I think it would be fairer to say that Marvin has rusted." Zaphod's tact struck like nuclear missile in the bullseye of a dartboard. Trillian ran out of the room crying.

  "I think you should keep hold of Marvin for the moment," said Ford. Arthur stuck Marvin in his pocket.

  CHAPTER 45

  Death could be defined as that which when mentioned over dinner could cause one person to leave the room crying and for all bar one (Zaphod Beeblebrox) to be put off their magnificent meal. A very personalised definition, admittedly, but a very applicable one even though it is based on a situation with a major misunderstanding. Marvin did not die, although it was what he dearly wished. He ceased to function, which had the desired effect, albeit temporarily. It has been asked why, in addition to Marvin's ability to switch off at any time and with the knowledge that by sticking his left arm in his right ear he could electrocute himself, Marvin never finished himself off a long time ago. Apart from the fact that his programming wouldn't allow him, he would miss out on the opportunity to continue being wretched, which he did until his body could take it no longer.

  There are those who feel that Marvin's end was untimely and a bit of an anticlimax considering his eventful life full of narrow escapes, close shaves and apathetic encounters. His escape from the Disaster Area stunt ship has never been fully documented (though it can now be revealed that it wasn't as exciting as expected) and will not be disclosed here to remain within the legal boundaries that exist for that section of society with a furtive imagination. Nor can we forget the lengthy tale of how Marvin eventually ended up minus one original leg on the planet Squornshellous Zeta. However, Marvin has ceased to exist as before and will stay that way, unless something really improbable happens.

  It may please those who think that this is the very end of Marvin to know that it is indirectly through Marvin that Zaphod, Ford and Arthur, not to mention Trillian, Bolo and Fenchurch, are soon to be sent on their way to save the Universe.

  CHAPTER 46

  The scruffy mechanic idled around by the door. Eventually Zaphod opened it.

  "I've brought your ship back, goes like a dream now," said the mechanic, wiping his hands on his greasy overalls, achieving nothing.

  "It was going like a dream beforehand, I was hoping for a little reality to creep back into it's performance," muttered Zaphod.

  "Very good, sir." The mechanic knew of Zaphod's position and wasn't going to jeopardise his by getting cocky. "We followed the service instructions down to the last detail. No unnecessary work done. We even changed the filters on the Nutri-Matic Drinks Synthesiser.

  "Okay, okay. I had an estimate but let's see how it differs from the present tense expense."

  "What?"

  "Shee, the bill. You know, the paper with all the big numbers all over it?"

  "Oh, yes, right." The mechanic took out a sheet of paper, accidentally on purpose smudging his greasy fingers across the sundries column, which contained the tip for the waiter at an incredibly expensive restaurant he had taken his girlfriend and the Heart of Gold to on a test drive, the replacement solar tiling (the original tiling didn't need replacing but the tiling on his star buggy did) and the money he lost playing Eddie the shipboard computer at electronic halma.

  Zaphod signed his name twice against his Editor's expense account number on the bill as the second signature would be worth a bit in years to come and was cheaper than a tip.

  "Thanks sir," humbled the mechanic. "And you won't forget the mention in the guide, will you sir?"

  "We'll see after I've taken her for a spin. I'll be in touch." Zaphod shut the door. "I'm sure I get ripped off more than bog roll."

  Arthur was feeding all his details into the latest gizmo from the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation, the Tailormatic. The principle was very good. By feeding in all bodily details, such as height, weight, number of limbs, etc., the Tailormatic would link up to the fashion mainframes around the Universe to consult what the latest fashions were and then synthetically create an ideal outfit. Unfortunately, it was programmed by the same man who programmed the Nutri-Matic machine and didn't always produce the goods, so to speak.

  Arthur hit the enter button and the Tailormatic shook into action. Eventually, a cellophane wrapped package popped out. Once Arthur had spent five minutes removing pins and cardboard, he tried it on.

  "And this is fashionable?" He asked the machine rhetorically.

  "Upon my life, I've never seen anyone wear it so well," chirped the machine.

  "It's not too bright?"

  "Bright is in, my boy. You want to be noticed, don't you?"

  "Yes, but not to be ridiculed."

  "Don't be silly, I wish I could get away with wearing something like that."

  "I'm more worried about being put away. And I suppose the motto Share and Enjoy applies to the clothes as well. How many people am I supposed to share this with at one time?"

  "It's meant to be loose, it flows."

  "So does wine, but I wouldn't go out in it."

  "Well I can take it in a touch, but it would ruin the line."

  ''Don't bother, I'll get a second opinion.

  Fenchurch was trying on one of Trillian's dresses for the wedding. Arthur charged in, muttered an embarrassed apology and walked out.

  "Arthur!" She shouted. He sheepishly put his head around the door. "Come in."

  "I just wanted your opinion on this." He held his arms out and turned around. What the Tailormatic had produced was a gold lame track suit-like outfit, which hung on Arthur like snow on a weeping willow. Fabulous embroidery covered the outfit and reflective prism strips had been sown in all over.

  "Well you'd look better hanging from the ceiling of the night-club than on the dancefloor. No, it's really quite different." Fenchurch had trouble suppressing a laugh.

  "It's supposed to be fashionable in the better places in the Universe."

  "When in Rome, do...."

  "I think I'll wear my jacket over it, that way I wont feel like a walking laser light show."

  Fenchurch went over to him and put her arms around his waist.

  "Promise me you'll behave tonight."

  "I promise, we'll pro
bably just have a few drinks," lied Arthur. He knew Ford and Zaphod had been undergoing strenuous body conditioning all day in preparation for a full frontal assault on as much alcohol as they could lay their lips on. "Will you be alright here?"

  "I'll be fine, the three of us haven't stopped nattering."

  There was a knock at the door. Ford popped his head around the door.

  "Thought I'd find you in here," he grinned. "We're off."

  "I'll see you later," said Arthur, hoping that Ford would disappear so he could kiss Fenchurch goodbye, but he had no chance.

  "Enjoy yourself, but not too much." Fenchurch kissed him on the cheek and patted his behind.

  Arthur followed Ford down the stairs where Zaphod was waiting. His outfit made Arthur's seem like funeral attire. The suit shimmered and changed colour in splashes like a cinema screen before the film starts, but without the nauseating effect. Bolts of harmless laser burst from the suit at random and the matching headband glowed luminously.

  "It's on random at the moment, buy I'll turn it to synchro in the night club to keep time with the music," said Zaphod. "Then watch out, 'cos my suit will do the dancing for me."

  "That's good, when you dance people clear a space in sympathy and for safety," said Ford.

  "Hey, cool it with the jibes, I'm out for good vibes," said Zaphod. "Remember this is my night, I'm gonna do it just right."

  "Are we going to get going or just talk about it?" Asked Arthur.

  "Now there's someone straining at the leash," said Zaphod. "Obviously a love hungry man. We'll get going soon, monkey man. We won't use improbability drive, no point in getting there too early. We want to make a big entrance."

  CHAPTER 47

  Eccentrica Gallumbits' night-club planet looked no different from any other Magrathean planet on approach. Only on closer inspection could you make out the glittering surface. Zaphod put the Heart of Gold into orbit around the planet to get a better look. A huge complex covered a quarter of the planet, with ship parks covering the remainder. Zaphod tuned the Sub-Etha radio into the planet and a bass line, which sounded like it had been carved out of granite, pounded the speakers.

  "Now that's what I call a groove," said Zaphod, tapping his heads together in time.

  The planet suddenly burst into light as it was switched to sound to light. The surface pulsated with the beat.

  "Beats the hell out of a neon sign," said Arthur.

  Zaphod parked the Heart of Gold in a predominant position as usual. They stepped out into the ship park. A robot transporter pulled up and they climbed aboard.

  "The electricity bill must be phenomenal," said Arthur, as the transporter weaved through the myriad of flashing lights.

  "All done with fibre optics, no doubt," said Ford. "Probably all runs off one light bulb."

  And the beat went on. The transporter had Quadraphonic speakers to confirm that the lights weren't going off at a tangent. Arthur could feel his heart trying to keep time with the music. The transporter pulled up at the main entrance.

  Flash bulbs flashed. Cameras whirred. Reporters jostled with each other to get a good position.

  "Are you still going through with it, Zaphod?"

  "Are you really giving up the wild life?"

  "Do you think marriage will interrupt your quest for ultimate coolness, Mr Beeblebrox?"

  "Hey guys," said Zaphod, lapping up the attention. My future wife will hear about anything I say to you, and you know how you take things I say out of context." He stopped and posed briefly for photographers. "So I guess I ought to remain silent."

  After several throwaway poses, he went through the crowd to the door. Ford and Arthur fought their way through to join him. Zaphod put his arms around them and grinned for the cameras. "One for the album. My last night of freedom!"

  CHAPTER 48

  Eccentrica Gallumbits, the triple breasted whore of Eroticon 6, is universally famous as one of the best good times known to males. Part of her fame is due to a coffee cup being placed on a genetic engineer's plan prior to her birth. Gallumbits, an old inferno of Zaphod Beeblebrox, has been the centre of many wild rumours, such as her erogenous zones starting four miles from her body where, in fact, it has been statistically proven that even when she is in the mood, the distance is at most two miles. Another rumour, inaccurate again, is that fortunate males, whom we shall accurately call joyriders, accompanying Gallumbits on what we shall call an excursion, experience a feeling akin to the planet/moon/starship/waterbed moving. Professional observers, positioned at a safe distance, have observed that no such movement is apparent. However, as joyriders considerably outnumber professional observers, this has yet to be proven. Any professional observers who have joined the growing ranks of joyriders in an attempt to measure any movement first hand usually drop all their necessary equipment in a frenzy at the appropriate moment.

  She has been condemned by 'Females Repelled by an Uncaring Male Population Society' (FRUMPS) as 'degrading to females' and 'too stupid for words'. However, Gallumbits has proven to have one of the most brilliant female business minds of all time. Her three dimensional, full size holoposter (cost of the planning permission for the house extension included in the price) helped her retain her Positively the Most Polpular Pin-Up Award for the tenth year running and boosted her earnings close to Disaster Area proportions. Her favourite saying 'I don't care if they are more interested in my body than my mind, so long as they realise that I am more interested in their money than their body' angered the FRUMPS so much, they sued. Gallumbits was acquitted by a male judge and an all male jury.

  Chauvinists on Earth will be comforted by the fact that although chauvinism may be dying out on Earth, the traditions are still being upheld in other parts of the Universe.

  Eccentrica Gallumbits stood at the reception, hot with anticipation. Another rumour states that she can be hot with boredom, with disgust and while doing the dusting but only two of these can be genuinely vouched for. She could see Zaphod fighting his way to the door. She curled her leg around a small Tube supporting a drink. The small Tube dropped the drink in the excitement and ran over to his crowd of Tubes in the bar to exaggerate what happened.

  "Hey Babe, what's shaking?" Said Zaphod after a dramatic entrance that included kicking the door open, only to slam in Arthur's face.

  "Same things as always," said Gallumbits seductively and gave a physical demonstration. "I heard the bad news on the Sub Etha."

  "Had to happen one day," said Zaphod.

  "I suppose so," sighed Gallumbits, as seductively as the ear would allow. As she does everything seductively, it can be safely assumed that although it will no longer be mentioned, she is being seductive. "I'm wearing three black bands in memory of the sad day."

  "First time I've seen them worn there," said Ford, fascinated.

  "Little Ford!" Squealed Gallumbits. "It's been ages. Have you got over your little problem yet?" Ford's ogling was distracted.

  "What problem's this, little Ford?" Asked Zaphod, deciding to kick off the personal abuse for the evening.

  "Who's this?" Interrupted Gallumbits.

  "Oh, this is just Arthur Dent, he's a friend of Trillian. He'll be alright if you can let him have some tea," said Zaphod, verbally swinging his fist from Ford to Arthur.

  "The Arthur Dent?" Squealed Gallumbits. She squealed a lot.

  "Not this again, yes, the Arthur Dent," said Arthur.

  Gallumbits brushed past Zaphod and Ford, exciting them more than a brush should legally be allowed to. She put her arms on Arthur's shoulders and kissed him.

  "I've heard a lot about you," she smouldered. "But I don't think I've had the pleasure."

  Arthur's voice decided to go falsetto when he was hoping for a rich tenor. His body was pleading for mercy and a cold shower.

  "I don't think we have," he squeaked. "How do you do."

  "I've had no complaints so far."

  "Well," said Arthur, searching for inspirational conversation in a mind filled with other
matters. "That's very good."

  "Don't worry, she's always after fresh blood," said Zaphod.

  "Worried, who's worried?" Said Arthur, wondering if it was her perfume. "Not me, I'm not worried. What have I got to be worried about?"

  "Nice place you've got here," said Ford, glancing briefly at the decor before resuming Gallumbits watching.

  "I'm proud of it," said Gallumbits, sticking her chest out. "It's taken a long time to get it how I wanted it, but I think it will keep everyone happy." Arthur was swimming in a pool of ambiguity.

  "I hope it lives down to your reputation," said Zaphod.

  "I've worked hard enough to get it that way. I've got to sort out some business affairs right now, but you go and enjoy yourselves, it's all on the house tonight. I'll catch up with you later. Especially you, Arthur."

  She touched all of them on the cheek with delicate fingers and disappeared behind a door into which Arthur had assumed was the men's toilet because of the men queuing up outside it.

  "Still looking good," sighed Ford.

  "And then some," replied Zaphod.

  "And plenty after that," added Arthur, his voice edging down the scale to soprano.

  "Well," said Zaphod, snapping out of the trance. "Let's observe and reserve."

  "What?" Asked Arthur.

  "Let's pick out the suitable women," explained Zaphod. "It's just as well I'm beyond having my style cramped."

  "But your getting married tomorrow," protested Arthur.

  "It's because I m getting married tomorrow that we must pull tonight. Otherwise the marriage will be null and void. It's a condition. That was one of the few good things I did as President of the Universe."

  "And do we all have to pull?" Asked Arthur.

  "We're supposed to, but we may make an exception in your case, it would be a shame to cancel the wedding because of you," piped Ford.

  "Let's discuss this over a drink," pleaded Zaphod.