Part 2--Artemus, Dorf, Marven and Zadoph embark on their journey...

"I miss my Ambrosia juice," Artemus the Almighty complained.
"Don`t you mean tea?" Dorf the talking dog asked.
"No I mean Ambrosia juice."
"Either way, all we have here is water."
"But that`s what peasants drink!"
"WHAT?! Monkey God`s got a point here, I shouldn`t be drinking peasant juice!" announced Zadoph, sniffing haughtily and trying not to sneeze.
"I don`t have to go with you if I don`t want to, you know. I`m a supreme-"
"Spoiled brat." Being a dog, Dorf didn`t often get to finish others` sentences for them, and it felt rather good...
"I was about to say God," Arte boomed unecessarily.
"You`re all being quite pointless and cheery. Stop it." Marven seemed to be onboard. The assumption that he was onboard would be a rather hasty one, seeing as he obviously wanted to fling himself into cold lifeless space.
"And what exactly do you have against having a little fun, you steel-hearted thing? What-er, who are you again? Marvin?" Zadoph peered at Marven as if his left ear might contain something tasty.
Marven peered despairingly back with a hollow gaze. "It`s Marven," he corrected, "generally known as the worthless genius. The worthless genius who wouldn`t mind having the money with which to see a doctor. You see, I have this intolerable pain all over my-"
"Yeah yeah, stop that. It seems my radius of hipness doesn`t even encircle you."
"Hold it guys, I found a note here on the electronic clipboard," Dorf said. Wagging his tail in concentration, since it`s not the easiest thing to make out words and symbols when you`ve got a dog`s brain, he read: "Get on with the story, you stupid space-spuds. Signed, The Writer."
Arte frowned. "I thought all Writers were condemned to death centuries ago, along with the Acountants and Lawyers. And what does she mean, story?"
"Maybe it has something to do with that space station there," Marven droned, "as if anyone`s going to listen to me."
The men blinked. Indeed, the auto-pilot had signaled a gathering of supplies was necessary. (Ships knew that no one could go for very long without some decent potato chips and six-packs.)
"Wheeee! They have a toy store! I wonder if one can get Ambrosia juice here?" Artemus the High Power bounded gleefully into was now seemed more like a mall then a gas station type store. The others followed in an array of queer moods.
The Sullen Mood slumped into a computer parts store. The Arrogant Mood went to find a store occupied by at least 4 women. The Gleeful Mood bounded towards a museum after getting bored with the toy store. Dorf had other ideas...
Artemus stared at the exhibits crowding the small museum. He was about to walk towards one labeled "Deceased Planets" when a hunched figure with crooked glasses tapped him on the shoulder.
"I`m afraid you`ll have to pay admission before you proceed," he wheezed.
"Relax, four-eyes, I have my Supreme Being All-Admissions pass right here." Arte flashed his gold-edged ID.
"Well, I guess that`s okay then. There was no call for that optics jest though, it`s not my fault if 4 of my 5 eyes are near-sighted!" He scurried off, leaving Arte to roam aimlessly. (Note: The author would like to apologize for any material considered offensive to those with poor eyesight/multiple eyes.)
Arte walked over to the Deceased Planets exhibit, noticing a model of a rather pretty blue and green sphere. It had a sign on the wall next to it which said:

New Earth, small yellow-sun planet which lasted for about 3 hours on a Thursday before being forgotten and deserted. Nicknamed Planet Bob. Won an award during it`s second hour for major achievements concerning its Fjords. For further notes on such fjords, see Olde Earth display.

Arte then noticed the smaller, decaying display next to this gorgeous aquamarine simulation. It read:

Olde Earth, a rather boring place with ape-like people who based their society`s value on digital watches. Known for such creative exports as rubber chickens, chopsticks, Halloween masks and tea. Very few of the Earth people noticed their total lack of space technology, until faced with the horrors of Vogon ships. The Vogons were the ones who ended up destroying the planet, putting in a rather nice bypass with fanciful signs and red dwarf special effects.

Marven and Zadoph, after being thrown out of numerous stores, went in search of their companions. They found Dorf sitting sullenly next to a box with the words "Donate Alcohol to my poor owner!" painted rather messily on the side. He was wearing a jewel-encrusted collar and looked rather drunk.
"We leave you here for four minutes and already you`ve managed to paint a box, find the money for an expensive collar, and get horrendously drunk?!" Zadoph spumed. (Spume-noun: ocean spray.)
Dorf nodded happily. He started to gnaw drunkenly on Marven`s ragged rags.
Marven scowled mournfully. "Shouldn`t we go find that son of a...I mean, my Master?"
"I suppose you`re *hiccup* right." Dorf dipped his head into his box. The sounds of shattering glass and dog-slurping filled the air. "Okay, I`m coming."
They found Artemus drooling in awe, mumbling something about tea and intelligent dolphins. Upon seeing his companions, he joyously tried to shout his miraculous conclusion, but merely managed to exclaim, "TEA!"
The others stared at him. Then they blinked at him. They then suggested the narrator muse aloud for a bit while they calmed Artemus down. So she did...
Museums were quite rare in this particular quadrant of space. This was due to giving the children the choice of whether or not they wanted to attend school. There was a very relaxed and flighty do-what-you-feel-like-then-shutup feeling among the planets. This trend was probably started by Betelgeuse, a planet that had once thrived not far from the current focal point of our story. `Nuff said. Now, back to our regularly scheduled nonsense.
"This is it! Don`t you remember? I`m not really a god, I`m Arthur Dent reincarnated!" Obviously, the narrator`s interlude hadn`t served much purpose.
"Noooo; You Artemus. I Zadoph. Comprendre, Monkey-God?"
"Ah! That was another thing! It`s Monkey-MAN! And you`re Zaphod, and he`s Marvin, and he`s not a dog, and look there`s Trillian!"
"May I help you?" inquired a pleasant voice that hinted in a get-on-with-it tone that it wanted to go home sometime before 5.
"Not really, our friend here was just-" Zadoph blinked. All the mutanous voices in his head cackled gleefully upon noticing the gorgeous woman standing before him.
"Hey gorgeous, what`s your name?" Dorf asked, aware that Zadoph was making a mental note to kill him in his sleep.
Lucia took in the scene with a sweep. A befuddled God, a depressed servant, a leering idiot and a hopeful blue dog. She sighed inwardly, realizing she would wouldn`t get home at a reasonable time afterall.
"Lucia, Lucia McKillian. Now if you don`t have any questions, I`ll be on my way..."
Zadoph raised his hand. "I have a question! Will you come with us?" Lucia glared.
"We`re on a pointless space mission. Don`t worry, Monkey-God here`s paying. You may thank me now."
Dorf gave a strangled cry just then. "Oh god, he`s right!"
"Of course I`m right, Lillian owes me a thank you!" babbled Zadoph.
"No, you headless idiot, I mean the God is right. We`ve all done this before. I was Ford Prefect, I knew all sorts of cool words and traveled to all sorts of froody places! I wasn`t even a dog!"
Lucia was about to interrupt rudely when a sudden revelation politely asked to board her train of thought. Lillian! That sounded familiar, but not quite right, almost like Tri-something...was it part of an equasion? Something she`s seen on a map? Hm...
Zadoph was starting to think, too, much to his dismay. This annoying dog reminded him of a relative of some sort. But all his relatives were either dead or completely outdated and dull!
Marven didn`t need to think: His vast intellect had already computed the high probability of his once being a robot dragged along on stupid and dangerous missions in a past life.
Dorf and Artemus were grinning like schoolboys, waiting for everyone to realize what geniuses they were for figuring everything out first.
The 5-eyed historian was wondering why the research of the great fjord-sculptor Slartibarfast interested him so.
"AHA!" Lillian, Zadoph, and a security guard slapped their foreheads, realizing in unison. Lillian remembered being Trillian. Zadoph remembered being the best president the galaxy had ever seen. The security guard had just figured out the question that resulted in 42. The Historian was still clueless.
"Stupid Ambrosia juice...all this time, I had forgotten all about tea..."
"I might as well come with you, seeing as I`m doomed to spend eternity getting you boys out of trouble."
"I remember why I bothered living now! We Apologize for the Inconvenience. Yes, that`s the memory that has kept me going."
"Damnit! I`m sober! AwROOOOOO!"
"Good think Monkey-Man`s daughter isn`t here. Is she? OW! Why did that security guard just throw a rock at me?!"

Seeing as everything`s come to a mangled conclusion, Part 3 won`t bother existing.