Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz was a fairly typical Vogon in that he was thoroughly vile. Also, he did not like hitchhikers.
Somewhere in a small dark cabin buried deep in the intestines of Prostetnic Vogon Jeltzs flagship, a small match flared nervously. The owner of the match was not a Vogon, but he knew all about them and was right to be nervous. His name was Ford Prefect.
He looked about the cabin but could see very little; strange monstrous shadows loomed and leaped with the tiny flickering flame, but all was quiet. He breathed a silent thank you to the Dentrassis. The Dentrassis are an unruly tribe of gourmands, a wild but pleasant bunch whom the Vogons had recently taken to employing as catering staff on their long haul fleets, on the strict understanding that they keep themselves very much to themselves.
This suited the Dentrassis fine, because they loved Vogon money, which is one of the hardest currencies in space, but loathed the Vogons themselves. The only sort of Vogon a Dentrassi liked to see was an annoyed Vogon.
It was because of this tiny piece of information that Ford Prefect was not now a whiff of hydrogen, ozone and carbon monoxide.
He heard a slight groan. By the light of the match he saw a heavy shape moving slightly on the floor. Quickly he shook the match out, reached in his pocket, found what he was looking for and took it out. He crouched on the floor. The shape moved again.
Ford Prefect said: I bought some peanuts.
Arthur Dent moved, and groaned again, muttering incoherently.
Here, have some, urged Ford, shaking the packet again, if youve never been through a matter transference beam before youve probably lost some salt and protein. The beer you had should have cushioned your system a bit.
Whhhrrrr said Arthur Dent. He opened his eyes.
Its dark, he said.
Yes, said Ford Prefect, its dark.
No light, said Arthur Dent. Dark, no light.
One of the things Ford Prefect had always found hardest to understand about human beings was their habit of continually stating and repeating the obvious, as in Its a nice day , or Youre very tall , or Oh dear you seem to have fallen down a thirty-foot well, are you alright ? At first Ford had formed a theory to account for this strange behaviour. If human beings dont keep exercising their lips, he thought, their mouths probably seize up. After a few months consideration and observation he abandoned this theory in favour of a new one. If they dont keep on exercising their lips, he thought, their brains start working. After a while he abandoned this one as well as being obstructively
cynical and decided he quite liked human beings after all, but he always remained desperately worried about the terrible number of things they didnt know about.
Yes, he agreed with Arthur, no light. He helped Arthur to some peanuts. How do you feel? he asked.
Like a military academy, said Arthur, bits of me keep on passing out.
Ford stared at him blankly in the darkness.
If I asked you where the hell we were, said Arthur weakly, would I regret it?
Ford stood up. Were safe, he said.
Oh good, said Arthur.
Were in a small galley cabin, said Ford, in one of the spaceships of the Vogon Constructor Fleet.
Ah, said Arthur, this is obviously some strange usage of the word safe that I wasnt previously aware of.
Ford struck another match to help him search for a light switch. Monstrous shadows leaped and loomed again. Arthur struggled to his feet and hugged himself apprehensively. Hideous alien shapes seemed to throng about him, the air was thick with musty smells which sidled into his lungs without identifying themselves, and a low irritating hum kept his brain from focusing.
How did we get here? he asked, shivering slightly.
We hitched a lift, said Ford.
Excuse me? said Arthur. Are you trying to tell me that we just stuck out our thumbs and some green bug-eyed monster stuck his head out and said, Hi fellas, hop right in. I can take you as far as the Basingstoke roundabout ?