Part 14 (2/2)
”Conical?” said Arthur, ”What sort of...”
”Shhh!” said Ford. ”It's conical. So what you do is, you see, you fill it with fine white sand, alright? Or sugar. Fine white sand, and/or sugar. Anything. Doesn't matter. Sugar's fine. And when it's full, you pull the plug out... are you listening?”
”I'm listening.”
”You pull the plug out, and it all just twirls away, twirls away you see, out of the plughole.”
”I see.”
”You don't see. You don't see at all. I haven't got to the clever bit yet. You want to hear the clever bit?”
”Tell me the clever bit.”
”I'll tell you the clever bit.”
Ford thought for a moment, trying to remember what the clever bit was.
”The clever bit,” he said, ”is this. You film it happening.”
”Clever.”
”That's not the clever bit. This is the clever bit, I remember now that this is the clever bit. The clever bit is that you then thread the film in the projector... backwards!”
”Backwards?”
”Yes. Threading it backwards is definitely the clever bit. So then, you just sit and watch it, and everything just appears to spiral upwards out of the plughole and fill the bath. See?”
”And that's how the Universe began is it?” said Arthur.
”No,” said Ford, ”but it's a marvellous way to relax.”
He reached for his wine gla.s.s.
”Where's my wine gla.s.s?” he said.
”It's on the floor.”
”Ah.”
Tipping back his chair to look for it, Ford collided with the small green waiter who was approaching the table carrying a portable telephone.
Ford excused himself to the waiter explaining that it was because he was extremely drunk.
The waiter said that that was quite alright and that he perfectly understood.
Ford thanked the waiter for his kind indulgence, attempted to tug his forelock, missed by six inches and slid under the table.
”Mr Zaphod Beeblebrox?” inquired the waiter.
”Er, yeah?” said Zaphod, glancing up from his third steak.
”There is a phone call for you.”
”Hey, what?”
”A phone call, sir.”
”For me? Here? Hey, but who knows where I am?”
One of his minds raced. The other dawdled lovingly over the food it was still shovelling in.
”Excuse me if I carry on, won't you?” said his eating head and carried on.
There were now so many people after him he'd lost count. He shouldn't have made such a conspicuous entrance. h.e.l.l, why not though, he thought. How do you know you're having fun if there's no one watching you have it?
”Maybe someone here tipped off the Galactic Police,” said Trillian. ”Everyone saw you come in.”
”You mean they want to arrest me over the phone?” said Zaphod, ”Could be. I'm a pretty dangerous dude when I'm concerned.”
”Yeah,” said a voice from under the table, ”you go to pieces so fast people get hit by the shrapnel.”
”Hey, what is this, Judgment Day?” snapped Zaphod.
”Do we get to see that as well?” asked Arthur nervously.
”I'm in no hurry,” muttered Zaphod, ”OK, so who's the cat on the phone?” He kicked Ford. ”Hey get up there, kid,” he said to him, ”I may need you.”
”I am not,” said the waiter, ”personally acquainted with the metal gentlemen in question, sir...”
”Metal?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Did you say metal?”
”Yes, sir. I said that I am not personally acquainted with the metal gentleman in question...”
”OK, carry on.”
”But I am informed that he has been awaiting your return for a considerable number of millennia. It seems you left here somewhat precipitately.”
”Left here?” said Zaphod, ”are you being strange? We only just arrived here.”
”Indeed, sir,” persisted the waiter doggedly, ”but before you arrived here, sir, I understand that you left here.”
Zaphod tried this in one brain, then in the other.
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