This is an alternate ending to 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' starting from the foursome run-in with the mice; the improbability drive comes in handy. Originally an English assignment in 9th. Not my best work. AU. One-Shot.
I loved The Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It was hilarious and this is just a tribute to its hilarity (plus, it was a school assignment: we had to rewrite a chapter). I know it's not very good, but again, it's different than my usual drabbles. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Previously on The Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Until now, a computer named Deep Thought attempted to calculate the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything. When the answer was revealed as '42,' Deep Thought predicted that another computer, more powerful than himself would be made and designed to calculate the question for the answer. The computer, often mistaken for a planet was the Earth, and, unfortunately, was destroyed by Vogons to make way for a hyperspatial express route, five minutes before the conclusion of its 10-million-year program. Two of a race of hyper-intelligent pan-dimensional beings who commissioned the Earth in the first place, disguised themselves as mice, Frankie and Benjy, and want to dissect Arthur's brain to help reconstruct the question, since he was part of the earth's matrix moments before it was destroyed he is likely to have part of the question buried in his brain. The entire mystery is very lucrative and beneficial for Frankie and Benjy, both financially and socially.
And now...Prosser and Co:
"It's the brain we want to buy," Said Frankie mouse.
"What? I thought you could just read his brain electronically," Ford protested.
"Of course we can," Benjy mouse cried excitedly. "But before that we have to process it."
"Prepare it," Frankie agreed.
"And unravel it."
"And dice it!" Shouted Benjy, thoroughly roused.
"And it could always be replaced...if you think it's so important. A simple one will suffice."
"Simple?" Wailed Arthur.
"Yeah," Interrupted Zaphod. "All you'd have to do is program it to say 'what?', and 'what's that gibberish coming out of your mouth...words are they?' and occasionally, 'where's the tea and crumpets?'" He burst into hearty guffaws at his own suspected cleverness. "Who'd see the difference?"
"I would!" Arthur shouted, miserable.
"I'm sorry, mice and men, but I don't think we have a deal," Ford said, heading for the door.
"Oh, don't we?" Asked Frankie, levitating in his wine glass. "I don't agree, gentleman." All signs of facetiousness were gone from every face.
"Come, come now. This an excellent chance." Benjy joined him in the air. Arthur gulped rather like a fish out of water and backed away from the floating mice and their uplifted wine glasses. "No? Well, then, I'm afraid we don't have a choice. Get him, Frankie!" Out of nowhere, Frankie wielding a razor blade came zooming toward Arthur who in his fright, collapsed. Trillian, exasperated with everyone, seized Arthur's arms and attempted to drag the man away from the mouse with the knife. Halfway toward Arthur, Frankie stopped and turned to Benjy.
"Why do I have to get him, Benjy? Why can't you?"
"Well, if I go and get him, who will take out his brain and prepare it and treat it and unravel it and dice it?!" The mouse asked with a touch of aspiration.
"Well, I will. Why don't you go and cut him open?"Frankie demanded.
"I can't do that. Preparing, treating, unraveling and dicing is my job. Who would do that then?"
"I would!" Announced Frankie triumphantly.
"Well then, what would I do?"
"Cut him open of course."
"Ah, but that won't work, Frankie," Benjy said slyly. "Don't you see, I only have four fingers. You see! No thumbs. So how could I cut him open?"
"Awww, but Benjy, I wanna take out his brain and prepare it and treat it and unravel it and dice it!"
"What'll I do then? Stand there and look pretty for the camera?"
During this heated debate, the quaternary was quickly moving away from the scene, unnoticed by the mice, Ford and Trillian dragging Arthur while Zaphod strolled easily by.
"Put some back into it!" He encouraged.
"Well, why don't you put some of yours?" Demanded Trillian, huffing and puffing fit to blow down a house of bricks.
"I would, Trillian, darling...but this neck...oh the affliction is pitiful. I'm so sorry." Zaphod grinned. He yanked the door open and stared, wrought by sudden horror at the incoming hoi polloi. "Oh my!" He gasped, slamming the door in their faces. It swung heavily and clicked shut as the dead-bolt fell over the grate.
Frankie and Benjy looked up. They scrutinized the waiting masses and Frankie said huffily, "Damnation!"
"All this fuss about two pounds of earthling tookus!" Snapped Benjy. "So now, we'll have to...invent a question, won't we?"
"Damnation!" Snapped Frankie again.
"Okay, listen up, Frankie, how's this? The number of dots on a pair of dice is...forty two!" He announced this with an almost arrogant air.
"No, no. Too literal, Benjy. We need something a little more wishy-washy."
"Oh! Oh! How long does it take to go everywhere...forty-two minutes!"
"But it doesn't. It takes sometimes longer and sometimes shorter."
"Fine, Mr. Olifant! You think of one."
"ελέφαντα, eh? Well, how many long does it take to understand everything?"
"A few emerils for you, why?"
"Forty-two what?" Asked Benjy, rolling his eyes.
"That's the controversy. And it'll set off everybody for another billion years while we-." He made a cha-ching, cash register noise, fingering invisible moola. Benjy stared and then laughed.
"By golly, Frankie, baby, we are made!" The mice scampered away.
Almost immediately, "ATTENTION!" Boomed a loud voice. "ATTENTION ALL MAGRATHEANS. YOUR PLANET HAS BEEN INFILTRATED BY A POLITICIAN THE LIKES OF WHICH HAVE NEVER BEEN SEEN. HAND HIM OVER AT ONCE. ELSE SUFFER!" Arthur woke up with a start while the other three exchanged petrified glances.
"Mice are best left to running in hamster wheels," Ford informed the group, trying for some comedic relief.
Trillian nodded grimly."Too true." Zaphod looked about helplessly. He knew they were after him.
"ZAPHOD BEEBLEBROX IS ACCUSED OF ESPSIONAGE AND THEIVERY. TURN HIM IN!"
"There!" Ford pointed to a small grate in the wall. "It must be the oxygen generator for the planet builder. We can climb through there and get to the Heart of Gold." So off they set, the foursome, griping, trouping, and groping about through through the pipes and grates. Outside, the Magratheans and intra-galatic hyperspatial Spike Squad had set up camp apparently by the sounds of their cheering which was really jeering.
"Ewww..." Zaphod groaned. "Its like a sauna in here!"
"Congratulations, Dr. Watson," Ford replied. "They use the steam to power their planet crusher, Beeblebrox."
"And it smells abominable! Like ammonia."
"Again, I commend you on your intellect, Sherlock," Snapped Ford.
"Enough!" Snapped Trillian. After a few more minutes, the hatch at the end of the tunnel popped open as Trillian pushed on it. She looked out and gave a little cheer.
"Look! Look there! It's the Heart of Gold!" She pointed to a great mass that lay quietly a hundred meters away from the base of the building."
"We can't jump this," Moaned Arthur.
"Yes, we can!" Said Trillian firmly. She grabbed Arthur's hand and jumped out.
"Aaaah!" Arthur shrieked and screamed like a banshee. Trillian landed cat-like in the mild gravity and waited to Arthur to catch his breath.
"See. Now that wasn't so bad," She said.
"Speaking for yourself," Gasped Arthur who was massaging his gut. Together, with Ford and Zaphod behind them, they made a run for the Heart of Gold.
"Freeze!" Came the order. The voice wasn't very loud but its tenor held a quiet kind of power and lethality. The hand held a Kill-O-Zap gun. The face they could not see. "Down!" Came the barking command. "Schnell!" Arthur thought he recognized this voice. With it's German accentuation. He dared a peek.
"Mr. Prosser!" He cried in surprise. The figure jumped and turned to face Arthur.
"Well, what are you doing here?"
"Me? I-I...I'm stuck here. In the company of these fools who've got a lot of nerve to tick off the intra-galatic hyperspatial Spike Squad-." He said this with great difficulty and looked pleased after he'd uttered it. "-and then drag me down with them."
"What a shame," Mused Mr. Prosser. "Well, I'd be on my way if I were you. This isn't going to be pretty. Oi! You there—why...why...it's Mr. Perfect, isn't it, Arthur? Something or other Perfect."
"That's Ford Perfect to you," Said Ford peevishly.
"Well, well. You gent best be going." Arthur and Ford dusted themselves off as Prosser turned to Trillian and Zaphod. "Well, now. What do we have here? A black-haired humanoid wench. And a mutilated arachnid." He sneered at the two.
Meanwhile, Ford and Arthur had slunk on to the Heart of Gold and Ford was now pacing impatiently, trying for a plan.
"Arthur, we've got to save Trillian and Zaphod. I mean it. I know Beeblebrox can be something of a nut but he's really a good man at heart. In fact, once he saved—Arthur! Arthur, are you listening?!" He looked across the shuttle at Arthur who was seated at the command station, his finger poised over a button. Accustomed to Zaphod usually careless and resultingly consequential interactions with the logistics of shuttle mechanics, Ford launched himself toward Arthur. "Nooo!"
Arthur pressed the button.
Eddie flashed on to the screen and said cheerfully, "Howdy. Utter improbability reached. Three...two...one!"
"What have you done?" Moaned Ford. "You idiot! WHY THE HELL DID YOU TURN ON THE IMPORBABILITY DRIVE?!"
What's that noise?" Demanded Arthur.
"IT'S ME, SHOUTING!" yelled Ford.
"No!" Arthur dashed out of the Heart of Gold and stared transfixed at the scene before him. Instead of Prosser and his cronies, he saw over a hundred star-bellied and star-less sneetches parading around in various circles. Trillian and Zaphod were running from the dancing sneetches.
"What just happened?" Trillian asked, huffing.
"Arthur just saved the day!" Ford said proudly.
"Hello?" A new, electronic voice came from inside. And Marvin strolled out looked depressed.
"Hello Marvin, how's life?"
"Droll. I went on an emo-rampage to the ship next down and it started weeping; when those birds start boarding they're going to be stuck here for a while. All the connections malfunctioned. The machine hates me." He sighed and then turned inside and said, "Hey Eddie!"
"No!" The four shouted. Marvin looked confused.
"We can't afford to have Eddie, no matter how vexing he is, malfunction," Explained Trillian. He shrugged and went back inside.
"So what happened," Asked Zaphod heading for the control station.
"Arthur determined the probability of the improbability drive to come up with something to halt Prosser and Co. in their tracks."
"Well, good for you, Arthur!" Trillian smiled at him. Arthur blushed.
"Yeah. Nice job, man." Zaphod clapped him on the back with his third arm. "That's real nice thinking there, kid. To turn on the improbability drive for a second without the proofing screens. Dude, you just saved our live, you know?"
"Awww...well, it was nothing really," Arthur said modestly.
"Was it?" Said Zaphod. "Oh well, forget it then. Computer, take us to to the restaurant at the end of the world. I'm starved."
So I hope that you guys enjoyed Prosser and Co. Tell me what you thought...in a review! :)