Douglas Adams is the Creator of these characters. I'm just putting the temptations of drugs and sex in their way and watching what happens.
This is a response to Murderofonerose's question: "Has anyone ever stopped to wonder what would happen if Arthur somehow and suddenly got really, really high?" and promise to "Do something seriously awesome for anyone who writes something involving that. Seriously super awesome." Also a response to Frizz the Eccentric's hilarious response, "As a Kite".
Arthur Dent Gets Stoned.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has many interesting things to say on the subject of mind-altering substances. At the insistence of fairly expensive lawyers, these interesting things all conclude with the words: 'The Guide does not recommend the use of mind-altering substances for any purposes not of a directly medicinal nature.' Judging by the depth of the information included, the contributors of these sections must have had some serious medical problems.
One of these entries states that:
The most totally laid back and, like, mind-blowing planet is Gan Ja which has soil, light and climate of such exact and unchanging types that the only plant able to grow there is hemp. By a freak of nature, the hemp which grows there is of a sporadically self-igniting variety. Gan Ja is therefore easy to spot from space due to the bluish, spicy smelling clouds which cover it. The Guide does not recommend visiting this planet for any purposes not of a directly medicinal nature.
"Gosh, I feel a little light-headed," Arthur said. He looked around for a chair but there weren't any. This was unsurprising because they were in a field. He really did need to sit down so, instead of feeling put out at the chairlessness of the planet, he sagged onto his knees on the soft, grassy floor.
"Where are we?" he asked.
Ford and Zaphod exchanged glances, giggled and said nothing.
"In the universe!" Trillian answered, hitching up her skirts and slipping her legs into the lotus position.
"Ooo-knee-verse," Arthur repeated, and he laughed. He stared out at the fields and fields and fields and fields and Ow! Something flicked across his vision, making him start back, his heart beating much too fast. It, or they, flicked at him again. They were a bit like fingers, except that fingers didn't usually have rainbow coloured outlines trying to catch up with them.
He heard Ford mutter, "Stop it," so he started worrying about what he'd done this time.
Zaphod answered Ford, "But's so funny, man, s'freaking out!"
Arthur turned his head and his ability to focus returned after a few seconds. One of Zaphod's heads was incapacitated by a fit of sniggering and the other was speaking. Arthur was just about to explain lucidly that whoever was 'freaking out', it certainly wasn't him, when the fingers flicked towards him again and he found his head snapping backwards.
In order to return his head to its original position, he tried to ascertain which way was 'up'. However, 'down' proved to be easier to find and so he lay down, curled on his side, reassured by the definite 'downness' pressing against the side of his face.
A spiky leaf positioned itself exactly at the spot where his eyes could focus - possibly the only spot where they could now focus - and he examined it closely. He found it to be incredibly incredible which he thought must be the most profound thought he had ever thought. He stuck out his tongue to give it a lick. There was a swiftly stifled gasp somewhere above him.
Near his feet, Trillian's voice was whining: "Don't freak him out, Zaphod. Everybody has to be at one with everybody else." He felt her paw her way up his legs and then collapse with her head on his thigh.
Zaphod and Ford both felt less contented than they had done before.
Deciding that she had been aiming for the lap he had mislaid by lying sideways, Arthur rolled onto his back. This caused a rocking sensation in Trillian's head and a lurching one in her stomach. Once Arthur had stopped moving, however, she managed to settle herself into a comfortable position.
Zaphod and Ford both shuffled about in a manner suggesting a definite absence of contentedness.
"Universe," said Arthur, watching his hand sweep around to indicate the night sky. He liked the pretty traces left by the movement. And he liked having a hand that was bigger than any moon.
"We're the last human beings in the universe," Trillian agreed contentedly (with something Arthur hadn't actually said which but she thought he had) into Arthur's lap. "All the love that was in the Earth is now in the two of us. Let's be at one with each other."
Contentedness left Zaphod and Ford as utterly as dolphins leaving a doomed planet. This caused Zaphod to stand up quickly and subsequently fall down again, and Ford to start rocking dementedly back and forth in a squatting position.
"I'm starving!" Trillian announced, "Is there, like, an all-night garage or something where I could buy all the crisps on the planet?"
Ford stopped humming madly and seized his chance. "Yes," he lied, "over there!" He pointed vaguely towards the horizon before becoming transfixed by his own finger. It was as big as that middle-sized moon over to the left.
Trillian jumped to her feet enthusiastically to see where Ford was pointing. Her stomach failed to execute the movement as quickly as the rest of her body and then failed to stop at the right moment, resulting in its contents coming out of her mouth.
Arthur stared at the gobbets of regurgitated sweetcorn glistening in her silvery curls and began a thought process which ended in Monster Munch and how he would never find any, what with the Earth not being there - well, anywhere - any more.
"Oh, my poor Trillian," cooed one of Zaphod's heads, while the other looked away and retched, "you can't go looking for munchies when you're all sicky sicky. We'll have to send the earth man to find them for you."
"Munchies," Arthur murmured, rising at an exaggeratedly slow speed and thinking about Monster Munch.
"Ford says they're over there," said Zaphod's other head, between gags. All his arms waved in different directions.
Full of misguidedly blissful hope, Arthur began an amble towards the horizon.
Ford thought that he couldn't very well let him wander off in that state, could he? And then he thought it again another couple of times because that was how his brain felt like doing things. By the time the message to move had reached his legs, Arthur had nearly disappeared from view behind swaying greenness.
Ford had to run to catch up with his friend and when he did catch up with him, he couldn't stop running so Arthur had to catch him. This involved putting out an arm and, when Ford came in contact with it, wrapping it round Ford's chest. He then added his other arm round the rest of the chest in the other direction. To be sure.
After a quick review of all available options, Arthur's legs then decided that finding 'down' again would be the best response to their unexpected physical proximity.
However, falling to the ground seemed to increase that proximity as their legs as well as their chests were now touching, as were all points in between, because Ford was now lying on top of Arthur.
Ford raised his head and found he was staring into Arthur's eyes. They looked like huge, prettily-coloured planets: the sort that were always bigger than one's finger. Ford sighed.
"Ford," Arthur said, his voice choked with emotion, "I'm going to be sick."