The Sporatic Hitchhikers Quote (DON'T SPAM!!!!!)

[goldeneys]

This thread is reserved for daily quotes I will post from Hitchhikers guide to the Galaxy.

 

They may be slightly edited so that ppl who have not read the book will be able to understand them to.

 

Today's is from Book 1 - Chapter 7

 

"You know" said Arthur "It's at times like this when I'm about to die that I really wish I'd listened to what my mother told me when I was young."

"Why, what did she tell you."

"I don't know, I didn't listen."

 

If you like, I will post again tomorrow.

[goldeneys]

So, I guess I shall post again, this quote comes right before the last one. Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect have just been thrown into an airlock, and are about to be released into outerapce where they will die of lack of oxygen, and then this occurs:

 

"So this is it," said Arthur, "we are going to die."

"Yes," said Ford, "except...no! Wait a minute!" He suddenly lunged across the chamber at something behind Arthur's line of vision. "What's this switch?" he cried.

"What? Where?" cried Arthur, twisting round.

"No, I was only fooling," said Ford, "we are going to die after all."

 

 

The poll is open for 7 days, I will do this till then, and if at the end of those days, the poll shows that more ppl would like it if I didn't do this, then I will stop, if it is a tie, I will keep going, and if it shows that the greater amount of Banders want me to continue, of course I will.

[goldeneys]

This comes very near the begining:

 

“This planet (speaking of the earth) has – or rather had – a problem, which was this: most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movements of small green pieces of paper, which is odd because on the whole it wasn’t the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy.â€

 

I think it looks like I will continue this.

[goldeneys]

right after that

 

"And so the problem remained; lots of the people were mean, and most of them were miserable, even the ones with digital watches.

 

Many were increasingly of the opinion that they'd all made a big mistake in coming down from the trees in the first place. And some said that even the trees had been a bad move, and that no one should ever have left the oceans.

 

And then, one Thursday, nearly two thousand years after one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be nice to people for a change, one girl sitting on her own in a small cafe in Rickmansworth suddenly realized what it was that had been going wrong all this time, and she finally knew how the world could be made a good and happy place. This time it was right, it would work, and no one would have to get nailed to anything.

 

Sadly, however, before she could get to a phone to tell anyone about it, a terribly stupid catastrophe occurred, and the idea was lost forever.

 

This is not her story."

[goldeneys]

"I'm so cool you could keep a side of meat in me for a month! I'm so hip I have trouble seeing over my pelvis!" - Zaphod Beeblebrox

 

 

hehehe I love this one.

[goldeneys]

I'm soo sorry this is late, but here's yesterdays quote.

 

Zaphod recieves a phonecall at a resteraunt.

 

ZAPHOD:"Hand me the raprod, Plate Captain."

WAITER: "I beg your pardon"

ZAPHOD: "The phone, waiter, THE PHONE! Shee, you guys are so unhip it's a wonder your bums don't fall off."

[goldeneys]

Ok, here's todays.

 

Prosser is about to knock Dent's house down, and Dent (who had learned of the plans the day before) is protesting while lying in front of the bulldozer.

 

Book 1 - Chapter 1

 

ARTHUR:'You hadn't exactly gone out of your way to call attention to them had you? I mean like actually telling anyone or anything.'

PROSSER:`But the plans were on display...'

ARTHUR:`On display? I eventually had to go down to the cellar to find them.'

PROSSER:`That's the display department.'

ARTHUR:`With a torch.'

PROSSER:`Ah, well the lights had probably gone.'

ARTHUR:`So had the stairs.'

PROSSER:`But look you found the notice didn't you?'

ARTHUR:`Yes,' said Arthur, `yes I did. It was on display in the bottom of a

locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the

door saying "Beware of The Leopard".'"

 

 

 

hehehe this is one of my favorites.

[Blade]

so you gonna keep this going golden?

[MsDanya]

he's on loa.. i'm sure he will continue when he gets home..

[Blade]

oh...right...well then.

[goldeneys]

Ok, I'll get to it, really soon, I'll post a few extras.

[Ashandarei]

great quote, that last one, I agree, one of my fav's as well.

[goldeneys]

I'll do it tomorrow.

[Zachary]

There are thirteen votes. Thirteen is an evil number. This thread is cursed!

[goldeneys]

STOP SPAMMING NOW

 

please?

 

 

hehehe

[Zachary]

It's on topic with the poll.

[goldeneys]

OK, OK.

[Ashandarei]

wait, add mine to the "you should keep doing this." lol.

 

Hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy is SWeet!

[goldeneys]

ok, I'll get to it tomorrow.

[goldeneys]

"Footsteps!" exclaimed Ford suddenly.

 

"Where?"

 

"That noise. That stomping throb. Pounding feet. Listen!"

 

Arthur listened. The noise echoed round the corridor at them from an indeterminate distance. It was the muffled sound of pounding footsteps, and it was noticeably louder.

 

"Let's move," said Ford sharply. They both moved - in opposite directions.

 

"Not that way," said Ford, "that's where they're coming from."

 

"No it's not," said Arthur, "They're coming from that way."

 

"They're not, they're ..."

 

They both stopped. They both turned. They both listened intently. They both agreed with each other. They both set off into opposite directions again.

 

Fear gripped them.

 

From both directions the noise was getting louder.

[goldeneys]

Total Stupidity, hehehe

 

 

 

 

The alien ship was already thundering towards the upper reaches of the atmosphere, on its way out into the appalling void which separates the very few things there are in the Universe from each other.

 

Its occupant, the alien with the expensive complexion, leaned back in its single seat. His name was Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged. He was a man with a purpose. Not a very good purpose, as he would have been the first to admit, but it was at least a purpose and it did at least keep him on the move.

 

Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged was --indeed, is - one of the Universe's very small number of immortal beings.

 

Those who are born immortal instinctively know how to cope with it, but Wowbagger was not one of them. Indeed he had come to hate them, the load of serene bastards. He had had his immortality thrust upon him by an unfortunate accident with an irrational particle accelerator, a liquid lunch and a pair of rubber bands. The precise details of the accident are not important because no one has ever managed to duplicate the exact circumstances under which it happened, and many people have ended up looking very silly, or dead, or both, trying.

 

Wowbagger closed his eyes in a grim and weary expression, put some light jazz on the ship's stereo, and reflected that he could have made it if it hadn't been for Sunday afternoons, he really could have done.

 

To begin with it was fun, he had a ball, living dangerously, taking risks, cleaning up on high-yield long-term investments, and just generally outliving the hell out of everybody.

 

In the end, it was the Sunday afternoons he couldn't cope with, and that terrible listlessness which starts to set in at about 2.55, when you know that you've had all the baths you can usefully have that day, that however hard you stare at any given paragraph in the papers you will never actually read it, or use the revolutionary new pruning technique it describes, and that as you stare at the clock the hands will move relentlessly on to four o'clock, and you will enter the long dark teatime of the soul.

 

So things began to pall for him. The merry smiles he used to wear at other people's funerals began to fade. He began to despise the Universe in general, and everyone in it in particular.

 

This was the point at which he conceived his purpose, the thing which would drive him on, and which, as far as he could see, would drive him on forever. It was this.

 

He would insult the Universe.

 

That is, he would insult everybody in it. Individually, personally, one by one, and (this was the thing he really decided to grit his teeth over) in alphabetical order.

 

When people protested to him, as they sometimes had done, that the plan was not merely misguided but actually impossible because of the number of people being born and dying all the time, he would merely fix them with a steely look and say, "A man can dream can't he?"

 

And so he started out. He equipped a spaceship that was built to last with the computer capable of handling all the data processing involved in keeping track of the entire population of the known Universe and working out the horrifically complicated routes involved.

 

His ship fled through the inner orbits of the Sol star system, preparing to slingshot round the sun and fling itself out into interstellar space.

 

"Computer," he said.

 

"Here," yipped the computer.

 

"Where next?"

 

"Computing that."

 

Wowbagger gazed for a moment at the fantastic jewellery of the night, the billions of tiny diamond worlds that dusted the infinite darkness with light. Every one, every single one, was on his itinerary. Most of them he would be going to millions of times over.

 

He imagined for a moment his itinerary connecting up all the dots in the sky like a child's numbered dots puzzle. He hoped that from some vantage point in the Universe it might be seen to spell a very, very rude word.

 

The computer beeped tunelessly to indicate that it had finished its calculations.

 

"Folfanga," it said. It beeped.

 

"Fourth world of the Folfanga system," it continued. It beeped again.

 

"Estimated journey time, three weeks," it continued further. It beeped again.

 

"There to meet with a small slug," it beeped, "of the genus A- Rth-Urp-Hil-Ipdenu."

 

"I believe," it added, after a slight pause during which it beeped, "that you had decided to call it a brainless prat."

 

Wowbagger grunted. He watched the majesty of creation outside his window for a moment or two.

 

"I think I'll take a nap," he said, and then added, "what network areas are we going to be passing through in the next few hours?"

 

The computer beeped.

 

"Cosmovid, Thinkpix and Home Brain Box," it said, and beeped.

 

"Any movies I haven't seen thirty thousand times already?"

 

"No."

 

"Uh."

 

"There's Angst in Space. You've only seen that thirty-three thousand five hundred and seventeen times."

 

"Wake me for the second reel."

 

The computer beeped.

 

"Sleep well," it said.

 

The ship fled on through the night.

[goldeneys]

Probably one of the stupidest parts, this is from book 2 chapter 23, and it's a song about matter transferance beams.

 

Aldebaran's great, OK,

 

Algol's pretty neat,

 

Betelgeuse's pretty girls,

 

Will knock you off your feet.

 

They'll do anything you like,

 

Real fast and then real slow,

 

But if you have to take me apart to get me there,

 

Then I don't want to go.

 

Singing,

 

Take me apart, take me apart,

 

What a way to roam,

 

And if you have to take me apart to get me there,

 

I'd rather stay at home.

 

Sirius is paved with gold

 

So I've heard it said

 

By nuts who then go on to say

 

"See Tau before you're dead."

 

I'll gladly take the high road

 

Or even take the low,

 

But if you have to take me apart to get me there,

 

Then I, for one, won't go.

 

Singing,

 

Take me apart, take me apart, You must be off your head,

 

And if you try to take me apart to get me there,

 

I'll stay right here in bed.

 

... and so on. another favorite song was much shorter.

 

I teleported home one night,

 

With Ron and Sid and Meg,

 

Ron stole Meggie's heart away,

 

And I got Sidney's leg.

 

 

 

 

 

See what I mean? Total stupidity.

[goldeneys]

You may not understand parts of this if you have not read the previous books, but this is from book 3 and chapter 16. It's quite funny.

 

 

Book 3 - Chapter 16

 

There was nothing there.

 

Just blackness.

 

This really unnerved him, and he started to back away from that, back the way he had come.

 

After doing this for a short while it suddenly occurred to him that he was now backing towards whatever it was he had been backing away from in the first place.

 

This, he couldn't help thinking, must be a foolish thing to do. He decided he would be better off backing the way he had first been backing, and turned around again.

 

It turned out at this point that his second impulse had been the correct one, because there was an indescribably hideous monster standing quietly behind him. Arthur yawed wildly as his skin tried to jump one way and his skeleton the other, whilst his brain tried to work out which of his ears it most wanted to crawl out of.

 

"Bet you weren't expecting to see me again," said the monster, which Arthur couldn't help thinking was a strange remark for it to make, seeing as he had never met the creature before. He could tell that he hadn't met the creature before from the simple fact that he was able to sleep at nights. It was ... it was ... it was ...

 

Arthur blinked at it. It stood very still. It did look a little familiar.

 

A terrible cold calm came over him as he realized that what he was looking at was a six-foot-high hologram of a housefly.

 

He wondered why anybody would be showing him a six-foot-high hologram of a housefly at this time. He wondered whose voice he had heard.

 

It was a terribly realistic hologram.

 

It vanished.

 

"Or perhaps you remember me better," said the voice suddenly, and it was a deep, hollow malevolent voice which sounded like molten tar glurping out of a drum with evil on its mind, "as the rabbit."

 

With a sudden ping, there was a rabbit there in the black labyrinth with him, a huge, monstrously, hideously soft and lovable rabbit - an image again, but one on which every single soft and lovable hair seemed like a real and single thing growing in its soft and lovable coat. Arthur was startled to see his own reflection in its soft and lovable unblinking and extremely huge brown eyes.

 

"Born in darkness," rumbled the voice, "raised in darkness. One morning I poked my head for the first time into the bright new world and got it split open by what felt suspiciously like some primitive instrument made of flint.

 

"Made by you, Arthur Dent, and wielded by you. Rather hard as I recall.

 

"You turned my skin into a bag for keeping interesting stones in. I happen to know that because in my next life I came back as a fly again and you swatted me. Again. Only this time you swatted me with the bag you'd made of my previous skin.

 

"Arthur Dent, you are not merely a cruel and heartless man, you are also staggeringly tactless."

 

The voice paused whilst Arthur gawped.

 

"I see you have lost the bag," said the voice. "Probably got bored with it, did you?"

 

Arthur shook his head helplessly. He wanted to explain that he had been in fact very fond of the bag and had looked after it very well and had taken it with him wherever he went, but that somehow every time he travelled anywhere he seemed inexplicably to end up with the wrong bag and that, curiously enough, even as they stood there he was just noticing for the first time that the bag he had with him at the moment appeared to be made out of rather nasty fake leopard skin, and wasn't the one he'd had a few moments ago before he arrived in this whatever place it was, and wasn't one he would have chosen himself and heaven knew what would be in it as it wasn't his, and he would much rather have his original bag back, except that he was of course terribly sorry for having so peremptorily removed it, or rather its component parts, i.e. the rabbit skin, from its previous owner, viz. the rabbit whom he currently had the honour of attempting vainly to address.

 

All he actually managed to say was "Erp".

 

"Meet the newt you trod on," said the voice.

 

And there was, standing in the corridor with Arthur, a giant green scaly newt. Arthur turned, yelped, leapt backwards, and found himself standing in the middle of the rabbit. He yelped again, but could find nowhere to leap to.

 

"That was me, too," continued the voice in a low menacing rumble, "as if you didn't know ..."

 

"Know?" said Arthur with a start. "Know?"

 

"The interesting thing about reincarnation," rasped the voice, "is that most people, most spirits, are not aware that it is happening to them."

 

He paused for effect. As far as Arthur was concerned there was already quite enough effect going on.

 

"I was aware," hissed the voice, "that is, I became aware. Slowly. Gradually."

 

He, whoever he was, paused again and gathered breath.

 

"I could hardly help it, could I?" he bellowed, "when the same thing kept happening, over and over and over again! Every life I ever lived, I got killed by Arthur Dent. Any world, any body, any time, I'm just getting settled down, along comes Arthur Dent - pow, he kills me.

 

"Hard not to notice. Bit of a memory jogger. Bit of a pointer. Bit of a bloody giveaway!

 

"`That's funny,' my spirit would say to itself as it winged its way back to the netherworld after another fruitless Dent-ended venture into the land of the living, `that man who just ran over me as I was hopping across the road to my favourite pond looked a little familiar ...' And gradually I got to piece it together, Dent, you multiple-me-murderer!"

 

The echoes of his voice roared up and down the corridors. Arthur stood silent and cold, his head shaking with disbelief.

 

"Here's the moment, Dent," shrieked the voice, now reaching a feverish pitch of hatred, "here's the moment when at last I knew!"

 

It was indescribably hideous, the thing that suddenly opened up in front of Arthur, making him gasp and gargle with horror, but here's an attempt at a description of how hideous it was. It was a huge palpitating wet cave with a vast, slimy, rough, whale-like creature rolling around it and sliding over monstrous white tombstones. High above the cave rose a vast promontory in which could be seen the dark recesses of two further fearful caves, which ...

 

Arthur Dent suddenly realized that he was looking at his own mouth, when his attention was meant to be directed at the live oyster that was being tipped helplessly into it.

 

He staggered back with a cry and averted his eyes.

 

When he looked again the appalling apparition had gone. The corridor was dark and, briefly, silent. He was alone with his thoughts. They were extremely unpleasant thoughts and would rather have had a chaperone.

 

The next noise, when it came, was the low heavy roll of a large section of wall trundling aside, revealing, for the moment, just dark blackness behind it. Arthur looked into it in much the same way that a mouse looks into a dark dog-kennel.

 

And the voice spoke to him again.

 

"Tell me it was a coincidence, Dent," it said. "I dare you to tell me it was a coincidence!"

 

"It was a coincidence," said Arthur quickly.

 

"It was not!" came the answering bellow.

 

"It was," said Arthur, "it was ..."

 

"If it was a coincidence, then my name," roared the voice, "is not Agrajag!!!"

 

"And presumably," said Arthur, "you would claim that that was your name."

 

"Yes!" hissed Agrajag, as if he had just completed a rather deft syllogism.

 

"Well, I'm afraid it was still a coincidence," said Arthur.

 

"Come in here and say that!" howled the voice, in sudden apoplexy again.

 

Arthur walked in and said that it was a coincidence, or at least, he nearly said that it was a coincidence. His tongue rather lost its footing towards the end of the last word because the lights came up and revealed what it was he had walked into.

 

It was a Cathedral of Hate.

 

It was the product of a mind that was not merely twisted, but actually sprained.

 

It was huge. It was horrific.

 

It had a Statue in it.

 

We will come to the Statue in a moment.

 

The vast, incomprehensibly vast chamber looked as if it had been carved out of the inside of a mountain, and the reason for this was that that was precisely what it had been carved out of. It seemed to Arthur to spin sickeningly round his head as he stood and gaped at it.

 

It was black.

 

Where it wasn't black you were inclined to wish that it was, because the colours with which some of the unspeakable details were picked out ranged horribly across the whole spectrum of eye-defying colours from Ultra Violent to Infra Dead, taking in Liver Purple, Loathsome Lilac, Matter Yellow, Burnt hombre and Gan Green on the way.

 

The unspeakable details which these colours picked out were gargoyles which would have put Francis Bacon off his lunch.

 

The gargoyles all looked inwards from the walls, from the pillars, from the flying buttresses, from the choir stalls, towards the Statue, to which we will come in a moment.

 

And if the gargoyles would have put Francis Bacon off his lunch, then it was clear from the gargoyles' faces that the Statue would have put them off theirs, had they been alive to eat it, which they weren't, and had anybody tried to serve them some, which they wouldn't.

 

Around the monumental walls were vast engraved stone tablets in memory of those who had fallen to Arthur Dent.

 

The names of some of those commemorated were underlined and had asterisks against them. So, for instance, the name of a cow which had been slaughtered and of which Arthur Dent had happened to eat a fillet steak would have the plainest engraving, whereas the name of a fish which Arthur had himself caught and then decided he didn't like and left on the side of the plate had a double underlining, three sets of asterisks and a bleeding dagger added as decoration, just to make the point.

 

And what was most disturbing about all this, apart from the Statue, to which we are, by degrees, coming, was the very clear implication that all these people and creatures were indeed the same person, over and over again.

 

And it was equally clear that this person was, however unfairly, extremely upset and annoyed.

 

In fact it would be fair to say that he had reached a level of annoyance the like of which had never been seen in the Universe. It was an annoyance of epic proportions, a burning searing flame of annoyance, an annoyance which now spanned the whole of time and space in its infinite umbrage.

 

And this annoyance had been given its fullest expression in the Statue in the centre of all this monstrosity, which was a statue of Arthur Dent, and an unflattering one. Fifty feet tall if it was an inch, there was not an inch of it which wasn't crammed with insult to its subject matter, and fifty feet of that sort of thing would be enough to make any subject feel bad. From the small pimple on the side of his nose to the poorish cut of his dressing gown, there was no aspect of Arthur Dent which wasn't lambasted and vilified by the sculptor.

 

Arthur appeared as a gorgon, an evil, rapacious, ravenning, bloodied ogre, slaughtering his way through an innocent one-man Universe.

 

With each of the thirty arms which the sculptor in a fit of artistic fervour had decided to give him, he was either braining a rabbit, swatting a fly, pulling a wishbone, picking a flea out of his hair, or doing something which Arthur at first looking couldn't quite identify.

 

His many feet were mostly stamping on ants.

 

Arthur put his hands over his eyes, hung his head and shook it slowly from side to side in sadness and horror at the craziness of things.

 

And when he opened his eyes again, there in front of him stood the figure of the man or creature, or whatever it was, that he had supposedly been persecuting all this time.

 

"HhhhhhrrrrrraaaaaaHHHHHH!" said Agrajag.

 

He, or it, or whatever, looked like a mad fat bat. He waddled slowly around Arthur, and poked at him with bent claws.

 

"Look ...!" protested Arthur.

 

"HhhhhhrrrrrraaaaaaHHHHHH!!!" explained Agrajag, and Arthur reluctantly accepted this on the grounds that he was rather frightened by this hideous and strangely wrecked apparition.

 

Agrajag was black, bloated, wrinkled and leathery.

 

His batwings were somehow more frightening for being the pathetic broken floundering things they were that if they had been strong, muscular beaters of the air. The frightening thing was probably the tenacity of his continued existence against all the physical odds.

 

He had the most astounding collection of teeth.

 

They looked as if they each came from a completely different animal, and they were ranged around his mouth at such bizarre angles it seemed that if he ever actually tried to chew anything he'd lacerate half his own face along with it, and possibly put an eye out as well.

 

Each of his three eyes was small and intense and looked about as sane as a fish in a privet bush.

 

"I was at a cricket match," he rasped.

 

This seemed on the face of it such a preposterous notion that Arthur practically choked.

 

"Not in this body," screeched the creature, "not in this body! This is my last body. My last life. This is my revenge body. My kill-Arthur-Dent body. My last chance. I had to fight to get it, too."

 

"But ..."

 

"I was at," roared Agrajag, "a cricket match! I had a weak heart condition, but what, I said to my wife, can happen to me at a cricket match? As I'm watching, what happens?

 

"Two people quite maliciously appear out of thin air just in front of me. The last thing I can't help but notice before my poor heart gives out in shock is that one of them is Arthur Dent wearing a rabbit bone in his beard. Coincidence?"

 

"Yes," said Arthur.

 

"Coincidence?" screamed the creature, painfully thrashing its broken wings, and opening a short gash on its right cheek with a particularly nasty tooth. On closer examination, such as he'd been hoping to avoid, Arthur noticed that much of Agrajag's face was covered with ragged strips of black sticky plasters.

 

He backed away nervously. He tugged at his beard. He was appalled to discover that in fact he still had the rabbit bone in it. He pulled it out and threw it away.

 

"Look," he said, "it's just fate playing silly buggers with you. With me. With us. It's a complete coincidence."

 

"What have you got against me, Dent?" snarled the creature, advancing on him in a painful waddle.

 

"Nothing," insisted Arthur, "honestly, nothing."

 

Agrajag fixed him with a beady stare.

 

"Seems a strange way to relate to somebody you've got nothing against, killing them all the time. Very curious piece of social interaction, I would call that. I'd also call it a lie!"

 

"But look," said Arthur, "I'm very sorry. There's been a terrible misunderstanding. I've got to go. Have you got a clock? I'm meant to be helping save the Universe." He backed away still further.

 

Agrajag advanced still further.

 

"At one point," he hissed, "at one point, I decided to give up. Yes, I would not come back. I would stay in the netherworld. And what happened?"

 

Arthur indicated with random shakes of his head that he had no idea and didn't want to have one either. He found he had backed up against the cold dark stone that had been carved by who knew what Herculean effort into a monstrous travesty of his bedroom slippers. He glanced up at his own horrendously parodied image towering above him. He was still puzzled as to what one of his hands was meant to be doing.

 

"I got yanked involuntarily back into the physical world," pursued Agrajag, "as a bunch of petunias. In, I might add, a bowl. This particularly happy little lifetime started off with me, in my bowl, unsupported, three hundred miles above the surface of a particularly grim planet. Not a naturally tenable position for a bowl of petunias, you might think. And you'd be right. That life ended a very short while later, three hundred miles lower. In, I might add, the fresh wreckage of a whale. My spirit brother."

 

He leered at Arthur with renewed hatred.

 

"On the way down," he snarled, "I couldn't help noticing a flashy-looking white spaceship. And looking out of a port on this flashy-looking spaceship was a smug-looking Arthur Dent. Coincidence?!!"

 

"Yes!" yelped Arthur. He glanced up again, and realized that the arm that had puzzled him was represented as wantonly calling into existence a bowl of doomed petunias. This was not a concept which leapt easily to the eye.

 

"I must go," insisted Arthur.

 

"You may go," said Agrajag, "after I have killed you."

 

"No, that won't be any use," explained Arthur, beginning to climb up the hard stone incline of his carved slipper, "because I have to save the Universe, you see. I have to find a Silver Bail, that's the point. Tricky thing to do dead."

 

"Save the Universe!" spat Agrajag with contempt. "You should have thought of that before you started your vendetta against me! What about the time you were on Stavromula Beta and someone ..."

 

"I've never been there," said Arthur.

 

"... tried to assassinate you and you ducked. Who do you think the bullet hit? What did you say?"

 

"Never been there," repeated Arthur. "What are you talking about? I have to go."

 

Agrajag stopped in his tracks.

 

"You must have been there. You were responsible for my death there, as everywhere else. An innocent bystander!" He quivered.

 

"I've never heard of the place," insisted Arthur. "I've certainly never had anyone try to assassinate me. Other than you. Perhaps I go there later, do you think?"

 

Agrajag blinked slowly in a kind of frozen logical horror.

 

"You haven't been to Stavromula Beta ... yet?" he whispered.

 

"No," said Arthur, "I don't know anything about the place. Certainly never been to it, and don't have any plans to go."

 

"Oh, you go there all right," muttered Agrajag in a broken voice, "you go there all right. Oh zark!" he tottered, and stared wildly about him at his huge Cathedral of Hate. "I've brought you here too soon!"

 

He started to scream and bellow. "I've brought you here too zarking soon!"

 

Suddenly he rallied, and turned a baleful, hating eye on Arthur.

 

"I'm going to kill you anyway!" he roared. "Even if it's a logical impossibility I'm going to zarking well try! I'm going to blow this whole mountain up!" He screamed, "Let's see you get out of this one, Dent!"

 

He rushed in a painful waddling hobble to what appeared to be a small black sacrificial altar. He was shouting so wildly now that he was really carving his face up badly. Arthur leaped down from his vantage place on the carving of his own foot and ran to try to restrain the three-quarters-crazed creature.

 

He leaped upon him, and brought the strange monstrosity crashing down on top of the altar.

 

Agrajag screamed again, thrashed wildly for a brief moment, and turned a wild eye on Arthur.

 

"You know what you've done?" he gurgled painfully. "You've only gone and killed me again. i mean, what do you want from me, blood?"

 

He thrashed again in a brief apoplectic fit, quivered, and collapsed, smacking a large red button on the altar as he did so.

 

Arthur started with horror and fear, first at what he appeared to have done, and then at the loud sirens and bells that suddenly shattered the air to announce some clamouring emergency. He stared wildly around him.

 

The only exit appeared to be the way he came in. He pelted towards it, throwing away the nasty fake leopard-skin bag as he did so.

 

He dashed randomly, haphazardly through the labyrinthine maze, he seemed to be pursued more and more fiercely by claxons, sirens, flashing lights.

 

Suddenly, he turned a corner and there was a light in front of him.

 

It wasn't flashing. It was daylight.

[Ashandarei]

ROFLMAO!!!!!!!!!!!!

[goldeneys]

hehehe, I liked it too.