This story is true. It is so incredibly true, that by the laws mentioned in the Great Galactic Book of Laws and Plumbing, paragraph eight, under the section that should be about getting a computer to work with piping, it reads as such: "If anyone should write that a story is incredibly true, we ban it. We now return to our regularly scheduled book. Place pipe A in slot C as seen in picture 3,982,1254,892,100 on page 927 x 8,402, making sure to screw it so that it bashes through the adjacent wall, is severely damaged, and must be repaired at a price of 8,000,000,000,000,000,000 dollars… Or else re-bought for a price of three and one-half cents." And so forth. Thus, this story has been banned, meaning that it is imperative that you break the law and read it, thus risking being eaten alive by vampire penguins. That aside, we can now begin with the story, which, once again, is entirely true.
"What do you mean you don't like it?" Arthur cried in dismay. "I made it with tea leaves! British tea leaves! It's wonderful!"
"Tastes a tad bitter to me," Ford stated for the third time. "I don't like it."
"What do you mean you don't like it?" Arthur cried in dismay. "I made it with tea leaves! British tea leaves! It's wonderful!"
"Tastes a tad bitter to me," Ford stated for the fourth time. "I don't like it."
"What do you mea-" Arthur started again, only to be interrupted by the sighing of a door accompanying Zaphod Beeblrox, former head honcho of the universe inside.
"Hello," Zaphod's left head said pleasantly, his right head's pupils dilating as they spied the tea.
"Is that a drink?" the right head asked.
"Of course it's a drink," Arthur sad angrily. "It's tea."
"Tea," Zaphod's left head repeated.
"Tea," Zaphod's right head repeated"
"Screw it, I'm chuggin' it," they said in unison, diving upon the tea and drinking it in loud, obnoxious gulps for the next three minutes.
"Do you like it?" Arthur asked in something that sounded close to dismay. "I made it with tea leaves. British tea leaves. They're wonderful."
"Tastes a tad bitter to- oh, wait," Ford said, noticing that he wasn't several paragraphs back anymore for the first time.
"It's terrible," Zaphod's left head stated matter-of-factly.
"It is not. It's quite good," the other head said, choosing to head-butt the other other head. The other other head in question head-butted back the other head not in question for being disagreeable which lead to a long head butting duel until both heads struck each other in the exactly correct portions of their heads to knock out their recent memories from several minutes back.
"It's terrible," Zaphod's left head stated matter-of-factly.
"It is not. It's quite good," The other head said, attempting to head-butt the other head, but failing due to the meat tenderizer that Arthur chose to insert between Zaphod's heads.
"Ow," said Zaphod's heads. "Where did you get a meat tenderizer?"
"From my bedside table, of course," Arthur said, indicating a bedside table with hundreds of meat tenderizers and alarm clocks on it.
"I see," Zaphod said, choosing to abandon the tiring dialect of saying "Zaphod's left head said" and "Zaphod's right head said".
"That makes a great deal of sense."
"Indeed it does," Ford agreed, speaking for the first time in several paragraphs. Realizing that it had been the first time he had spoken in several paragraphs, he became woozy and grabbed a nearby kitten to regurgitate into its mouth.
The kitten, quite offended by the lack of a tongue involved, swallowed and walked away in the most dignified manor it could before Ford, deciding it was miserable, put it out of its alleged misery and whacked it with one of Arthur's many meat tenderizers.
"I'm thirsty," said Ford. "I need a good stiff drink."
"Pan Galactic gargle blaster?" Zaphod asked eagerly, referring to drink that was similar to having one's brain smashed through a number of ways which I would mention were it not for the fact that Disney might sue me, a Necromancer might bring Douglas Adams back from the grave to sue me, and the simple fact that I can't remember very many of the ways your brain is destroyed.
"No," Ford said. "I need something stiffer. Hmm, what to drink… I know! I'm going to have a-" At that moment the plot decided to expand, but the author decided he was done, so a large brown, pink, purple, gold, mauve, and fuchsia colored (Colored being spelled the British way) brick fell out of the sky and conked Ford on the head, causing him to reach up and rub his head.
"Ow," Ford said, reaching up and rubbing his head. This prompted another brick of similar colors to fall out of the sky and strike him, followed by a satellite, and an almond flavored tea towel, which knocked him senseless.
"That's odd," said Zaphod's left head seconds before a meat tenderizer hit it.
"It hasn't rained in months around here," the right head finished as a computer joystick impacted his head at a high velocity.
"I'm the only one left not unconscious!" Arthur cried in joy as a teapot cracked open directly in front of him. From inside spewed hamsters which promptly swarmed all over Arthur before exploding, and blowing him into tiny pieces of filth, which disappeared over time.
"I win!" Pete yelled triumphantly as he threw an egg full of vampire penguins down to eat what was left of everyone.
Once again, it must be stressed that everything aforementioned in this story has been absolutely, positively, without a doubt true. We must also inform you that the highest authorities have discovered that you have read this, and that Vampire Penguins (now spelled with capital letters to signify importance) will be at your door within the next few weeks to kill you and sell Girl Scout cookies to those mourning you.
AN: Hello, fanfiction people who read this. I'm amazed that you lasted that long through such a blatantly terrible story. Honestly, it was horrible. Don't you people have any class whatsoever as to know a terrible story when you see one? Truly you people who were foolish enough to read this whole thing sicken me! Oh, and for the thousands of you out there who beg for more of this story, that was kind of it, since everyone's dead.
Oh, right, disclaimers. Vampire penguins are all mine, all hitchhiker characters are now apparently Disney's, Almond flavored tea towels are the author of random fragments of a diseased mind, and exploding hamsters are Mason Trulcuk's, whom not one of you is likely to know because he doesn't log on here. Arvuia, Ofwedershin, good riddance, and good (Insert one) morning, evening, afternoon, or night.