DISCLAIMER
I don't own Arthur Dent or any other characters or concepts from the Hitchhiker's Trilogy (in five parts). They belong to the (regrettably) deceased Douglas Adams. I'm just playing with his toys.
A/N: This is an experiment, to see if I could write such a story. Evidently I can. And, in my own (humble) opinion, this is pretty good. If you also think that this is pretty good, please tell me. For those of you who didn't understand, that means reviews. If I get enough good reviews, I'll write more. For now, enjoy!
Arthur Dent was cruising along in the stratosphere of Krikit when he received the shock of his life. Quite literally.
He was flying along with a southeastern warm front, when he ran smack into a cold front coming from the opposite direction. That's right, northwest. Aside from the tender bruise on his forehead, this collision had other results.
As many people may know, this is a recipe for a storm. Simply pour the contents of one packet into the stratosphere, add one-tablespoon cold front, and two tablespoons warm front. Stir with a very large spoon.
So this storm was made. Being a storm, it was in a bad mood. Now let me tell you, being in a bad mood five miles above the planet isn't too pleasant. Simply because, there is nobody to lash out at. But this storm was lucky. Because right in the middle of itself, was Arthur Dent, who was trying to rub his bruised forehead with one hand, clutch a well-worn travel bag in the other hand, and fly at the same time. Amazingly, he succeeded.
The storm, who we will henceforth relate to as Bob, was really angry, and lashed out at Arthur Dent, sending 12 million volts of electricity through his fragile body.
Arthur never knew what hit him. Well, actually he found out later, when a friendly sparrow told him. But for now we can say that he didn't know what hit him.
Anyway, Arthur ended up lying on the ground without any memory of arriving there. He saw Bob up in the sky, just as Bob was kind enough to zap a nearby tree. Arthur decided that he had been struck by lightning. A friendly sparrow flying by was kind enough to confirm this for him. After inquiring briefly about his health, the sparrow flew on to do whatever sparrows do during a storm.
Having just being told that he was struck by lightning struck Arthur as odd at first, but he didn't know why. He just knew that it should strike him as odd. So it did.
Just then, Bob started raining. Arthur pulled himself to his feet, and staggered over to a nearby field seeking shelter. The field offered no protection whatsoever from the rain. Arthur sat down in the middle of the field, reached into his bag and pulled out a battered and worn copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy. The greatest book of all time. Better than Harry Potter, more informative than the Galactic Encyclo… but we won't go into that.
Arthur pulled out the copy given to him by Ford Prefect on prehistoric Earth, and began reading about being struck by lightning.
The Guide had, surprisingly, a lot to say about being struck by lightning.
Being struck by lightning, the Guide says, is a very popular, albeit dangerous sport. But, the experts say, the danger is what's so appealing. That and the feeling of having several millions of volts of electricity coursing through your body.
There are many alterations that can be done to the body in order to produce the best shocks. The most popular is the coating of one's bones in a conductive, metallic alloy. Thus making oneself more conductive without the restriction of movement.
Another less popular method is to coat the outer layer of skin in an alloy. However, this treatment has the nasty side effect of being unable to move.
Strightling, as the professionals call it, is such a popular sport, that it has it's own Olympics.
Once a year, billions of fans converge on the planet Lightogrus to watch the professional strightlers, who have come from all over the galaxy to compete in the Strghtling Olympics.
The fact remains, that aside from the yearly Olympics, Lightogrus offers no interest whatsoever. It has no exports, no products, and virtually no population. In fact, the only people that live there are the vendors from the Olympics that couldn't afford a ride home. This is because Lightogrus is a barren world, swept by thousands of storms daily. That is why the Strightling Olympics are held there.
The contestants all climb a mountain peak 5 miles high, and stand there awaiting there bolt. The contestant with the highest score, which is composed by calculating the of the size of the lightning strike, in volts, and number of strikes of lightning, moves up to the next round. When all other players are dead, the only one left, still alive is the winner.
Despite a ninety-percent casualty rate, Strightling is still a very popular sport. For those of you who wish to compete in the Strightling Olympics, simply send a sub-etha fax to the Game Officials headquarters on Playnellius Beta. The fax should include a doctor's certificate saying that the contestant is clinically insane. This is to prevent future lawsuits.
Arthur finished reading all this just as Bob took his wrath, and himself, elsewhere. Arthur was so tired from his experiences that he decided to take a little nap and think about taking up a new hobby. The idea of being the champion strightler was enchanting.
Arthur put the Guide back in his bag, and took out a very worn looking towel. He folded the towel and put it under his head as he lay down in the middle of a field. In seconds he was sound asleep and keeping up a loud buzz saw like snore to keep away the vultures.
A/N: You have just finished reading my first Hitchhiker's story. If you liked it, please Review, and then recommend this story to all of your friends. If you didn't like it, I don't want to hear about it. On second thoughts, if you didn't like it, tell me what was wrong, but NICELY!