The Incredulous Trout
By winchester psi
Summary: A Dirk Gently/HHGTG crossover, based on DNA's last, unfinished novel, The Salmon of Doubt.
Hopefully he won't spin in his grave (or decorative crematory urn?) too much.
Dirk Gently and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy both belong to Douglas Adams, the greatest literary mind of all tim – wait a second, kissing up isn't going to keep me from getting sued! Nonetheless, nothing belongs to me except for the ridiculous concept to link the two together.
A ginger-haired man from Betelgeuse 5 sauntered through the streets of Islington.
He was a field researcher for The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, who, much to his protest, had recently been assigned to an insignificant blue planet out in the backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy.
So far, it had been mind-bogglingly dull. Earth (the planet) hadn't even made interstellar contact with any other lifeforms. The technology was some of the least advanced he had ever seen. The people were bland and quite good at stating the obvious in a mind-bogglingly dull way.
He had, however, been rather amused to find that one of the planet's countries was named Belgium.
Perhaps, he thought to himself as he stood idly on a street corner, he had just happened to land in a boring country. Many exciting planets had boring countries. Even Ursa Minor Beta had a small community of bureaucratic data processors near the south pole.
That was it. He would have to try another less boring country soon.
But for now, he was researching England, under the guise of an out-of-work actor named Ford Prefect.
Suddenly a man bumped into him. Flustered, the man got onto a passing bus before Ford could get a good look at him. Rude people here, thought Ford. Maybe he should try Canada next. He had heard it was quite nice.
The man who had bumped into Ford suddenly got off at the next stop. England was not only boring and rude, it was weird too. Ford started down the street to a small café. He needed time to think about which country to go to next, and how soon he could get there.
He sat down at a small table, munching on a bun. Yes, Canada sounded nice. Or maybe America. On the other hand, he was also quite interested in what kind of people lived in Belgium. The thought made him snigger, and he nearly choked to death on his bun. It wasn't that hard to choke on in the first place, as it was dry and crusty. They had terrible food here too. He had heard that Japan had good cuisine. Maybe he should go there. But then he'd have to learn Japanese…
Something bumped into Ford's foot. He picked up the crumpled up wad of paper and smoothed it out. It was a flyer about a recently published book on surveillance techniques, the sort of book a private detective would buy. He looked around. The only other person in the café was the weirdo from outside, sitting two tables away. So he was a private detective. He didn't look like one. Then again, mused Ford, private detectives weren't supposed to look like private detectives, were they? He finished his bun and left.
As soon as he had left, he realized the detective was behind him. Probably a coincidence. Unless, of course–
Ford walked slowly, all the way through Holborn and to the West End. The detective was still there. He lounged around a couple of bookstores. The detective followed. Obviously, he was tailing Ford.
Why?
Obviously, someone suspected he wasn't human. If anyone found out he was from Betelgeuse 5 – Ford shuddered. On a planet like this, anything could happen to him. He knew what he had to do. He had to keep the detective away from him. He wasn't a terribly good detective, since Ford could actually tell he was being followed, but he couldn't be too careful on a backwards planet like this.
Ford spent the rest of the day wandering aimlessly while the detective followed. While he wasn't very stealthy, the guy was quite determined. Maybe Ford could use that against him… Ford strode into his flat with a grin on his face. He knew exactly what to do.
~-~-~
A little after ten the next morning, Ford strode out of the front door with a suitcase, a bag, and a coat. The detective was lurking like a refrigerator about twenty feet away. Ford suppressed an evil laugh and hailed a taxi. "Heathrow," he said to the cabbie. As they pulled away, Ford smugly watched the detective through the rear window. Another taxi came down the street and sure enough, the guy got in. Ford could almost hear it now: "Follow that cab!" the man would shout, like some TV show or movie. He finally let out the evil laugh that he had been saving since last night. The cabbie gave him an odd look.
Soon they had arrived at Heathrow. Ford tossed the fare to the cabbie. "Keep the change." He stood still a moment, looking around. Ah, there was the poor guy now. Feeling another evil laugh welling up inside his ribcage, Ford went to the check-in line for flight 1330 to Chicago. He glanced back and saw his pursuer watching him. He pretended to check in, but in fact only asked directions to the tie shop. Ford watched as the detective strode to the tickets sale desk. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
As soon as his stalker had gotten a ticket, Ford headed toward passport control. He saw the detective lingering by a newsstand, buying some books and newspapers and so forth. Ford continued to suppress his evil laugh as he breezed by, dropped a special gift for the detective into his bag, and strode out of the airport. He looked to make sure he wasn't being followed. He wasn't.
Ford finally let out his final evil laugh (earning many strange looks from passersby). He could just imagine the look on that guy's face when, halfway across the Atlantic, he found Ford's little present, and the message within. Bon voyage indeed, sucker.
Ford looked at his digital watch (stupid piece of junk). He walked resolutely back into the airport, just in time to catch his flight to New York City.
Author's Note(s) for the Confused and Outraged:
Let me explain before you flame me. First, and most importantly, I wrote this thingy in just under an hour. Secondly, I just read The Salmon of Doubt, which, like the life of its author, was cut ridiculously short. It left me in suspense. Who's doing this? What's doing that? What is going on here? Sadly, none of these questions can be answered, since the only person who can answer them is dead. Dang. So, my deranged imagination started to try to figure out for itself what the heck was going on. I had read that Mr. Adams had wanted to turn the book into a Hitchhikers book, and it suddenly occurred to me that the guy Dirk had been tailing bore a striking resemblance to Ford Prefect. He was a ginger-haired actor. But he was tallish. Ford is short, isn't he? I went back and read the description of him in the first Hitchhikers book. He wasn't described as being short, but rather not conspicuously tall. Tallish, but not noticeably so. So, my deranged imagination went from there and spun out this crazy thing. I had to flip Dirk Gently back in time, since Ford (or rather whoever) was being described as in his late twenties. Or maybe Betelgeusians look younger than they actually are. Still, to be safe… Anyway, thanks for reading this, and please don't flame me. ::gets into her flameproof suit::
PS – apologies to England for the whole "dull country" bit. Also, yes Ford would have to learn Japanese to go to Japan; how else would all those Babel- fishless Earthlings have understood him for all those years?
One more thing-let me know how impressive you think it is that I wrote this without reading Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (although I have read The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul). And of course I've read all the Hitchhiker's books.
By winchester psi
Summary: A Dirk Gently/HHGTG crossover, based on DNA's last, unfinished novel, The Salmon of Doubt.
Hopefully he won't spin in his grave (or decorative crematory urn?) too much.
Dirk Gently and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy both belong to Douglas Adams, the greatest literary mind of all tim – wait a second, kissing up isn't going to keep me from getting sued! Nonetheless, nothing belongs to me except for the ridiculous concept to link the two together.
A ginger-haired man from Betelgeuse 5 sauntered through the streets of Islington.
He was a field researcher for The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, who, much to his protest, had recently been assigned to an insignificant blue planet out in the backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy.
So far, it had been mind-bogglingly dull. Earth (the planet) hadn't even made interstellar contact with any other lifeforms. The technology was some of the least advanced he had ever seen. The people were bland and quite good at stating the obvious in a mind-bogglingly dull way.
He had, however, been rather amused to find that one of the planet's countries was named Belgium.
Perhaps, he thought to himself as he stood idly on a street corner, he had just happened to land in a boring country. Many exciting planets had boring countries. Even Ursa Minor Beta had a small community of bureaucratic data processors near the south pole.
That was it. He would have to try another less boring country soon.
But for now, he was researching England, under the guise of an out-of-work actor named Ford Prefect.
Suddenly a man bumped into him. Flustered, the man got onto a passing bus before Ford could get a good look at him. Rude people here, thought Ford. Maybe he should try Canada next. He had heard it was quite nice.
The man who had bumped into Ford suddenly got off at the next stop. England was not only boring and rude, it was weird too. Ford started down the street to a small café. He needed time to think about which country to go to next, and how soon he could get there.
He sat down at a small table, munching on a bun. Yes, Canada sounded nice. Or maybe America. On the other hand, he was also quite interested in what kind of people lived in Belgium. The thought made him snigger, and he nearly choked to death on his bun. It wasn't that hard to choke on in the first place, as it was dry and crusty. They had terrible food here too. He had heard that Japan had good cuisine. Maybe he should go there. But then he'd have to learn Japanese…
Something bumped into Ford's foot. He picked up the crumpled up wad of paper and smoothed it out. It was a flyer about a recently published book on surveillance techniques, the sort of book a private detective would buy. He looked around. The only other person in the café was the weirdo from outside, sitting two tables away. So he was a private detective. He didn't look like one. Then again, mused Ford, private detectives weren't supposed to look like private detectives, were they? He finished his bun and left.
As soon as he had left, he realized the detective was behind him. Probably a coincidence. Unless, of course–
Ford walked slowly, all the way through Holborn and to the West End. The detective was still there. He lounged around a couple of bookstores. The detective followed. Obviously, he was tailing Ford.
Why?
Obviously, someone suspected he wasn't human. If anyone found out he was from Betelgeuse 5 – Ford shuddered. On a planet like this, anything could happen to him. He knew what he had to do. He had to keep the detective away from him. He wasn't a terribly good detective, since Ford could actually tell he was being followed, but he couldn't be too careful on a backwards planet like this.
Ford spent the rest of the day wandering aimlessly while the detective followed. While he wasn't very stealthy, the guy was quite determined. Maybe Ford could use that against him… Ford strode into his flat with a grin on his face. He knew exactly what to do.
~-~-~
A little after ten the next morning, Ford strode out of the front door with a suitcase, a bag, and a coat. The detective was lurking like a refrigerator about twenty feet away. Ford suppressed an evil laugh and hailed a taxi. "Heathrow," he said to the cabbie. As they pulled away, Ford smugly watched the detective through the rear window. Another taxi came down the street and sure enough, the guy got in. Ford could almost hear it now: "Follow that cab!" the man would shout, like some TV show or movie. He finally let out the evil laugh that he had been saving since last night. The cabbie gave him an odd look.
Soon they had arrived at Heathrow. Ford tossed the fare to the cabbie. "Keep the change." He stood still a moment, looking around. Ah, there was the poor guy now. Feeling another evil laugh welling up inside his ribcage, Ford went to the check-in line for flight 1330 to Chicago. He glanced back and saw his pursuer watching him. He pretended to check in, but in fact only asked directions to the tie shop. Ford watched as the detective strode to the tickets sale desk. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
As soon as his stalker had gotten a ticket, Ford headed toward passport control. He saw the detective lingering by a newsstand, buying some books and newspapers and so forth. Ford continued to suppress his evil laugh as he breezed by, dropped a special gift for the detective into his bag, and strode out of the airport. He looked to make sure he wasn't being followed. He wasn't.
Ford finally let out his final evil laugh (earning many strange looks from passersby). He could just imagine the look on that guy's face when, halfway across the Atlantic, he found Ford's little present, and the message within. Bon voyage indeed, sucker.
Ford looked at his digital watch (stupid piece of junk). He walked resolutely back into the airport, just in time to catch his flight to New York City.
Author's Note(s) for the Confused and Outraged:
Let me explain before you flame me. First, and most importantly, I wrote this thingy in just under an hour. Secondly, I just read The Salmon of Doubt, which, like the life of its author, was cut ridiculously short. It left me in suspense. Who's doing this? What's doing that? What is going on here? Sadly, none of these questions can be answered, since the only person who can answer them is dead. Dang. So, my deranged imagination started to try to figure out for itself what the heck was going on. I had read that Mr. Adams had wanted to turn the book into a Hitchhikers book, and it suddenly occurred to me that the guy Dirk had been tailing bore a striking resemblance to Ford Prefect. He was a ginger-haired actor. But he was tallish. Ford is short, isn't he? I went back and read the description of him in the first Hitchhikers book. He wasn't described as being short, but rather not conspicuously tall. Tallish, but not noticeably so. So, my deranged imagination went from there and spun out this crazy thing. I had to flip Dirk Gently back in time, since Ford (or rather whoever) was being described as in his late twenties. Or maybe Betelgeusians look younger than they actually are. Still, to be safe… Anyway, thanks for reading this, and please don't flame me. ::gets into her flameproof suit::
PS – apologies to England for the whole "dull country" bit. Also, yes Ford would have to learn Japanese to go to Japan; how else would all those Babel- fishless Earthlings have understood him for all those years?
One more thing-let me know how impressive you think it is that I wrote this without reading Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (although I have read The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul). And of course I've read all the Hitchhiker's books.