Chapter Two: Ford Prefect

Ford Prefect needed to kidnap somebody. The question was, how? It was obvious, really, he thought as he made his way to the bar of the Rusty Robot. A couple drinks and he'd be able to do anything, including kidnapping a journalist who was about to take his position at the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. He tried not to think about the month before, when he had been fired following an incident with a duck, a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, and a bowl of ramen noodles. It had not been his fault at all, he thought. Well, maybe a little bit. But not much! He sent down a drink to soothe his nerves, and several others to make sure that the other one knew exactly what to do. Having been suitably inebriated, he had a hard time focusing on the figure of the recently arrived Zaphod Beeblebrox next to him. "Hiya, Zaphod." He slurred, wondering why Zaphod had twice as many heads as normal.
Zaphod's one head poured a drink down it's gullet, while the other grinned froodily at Ford. "Hi, Ix." He hiccupped. "Whatcha doin here?" Ford sighed. "Pleeshze don't call me thaht, Zaphod." He reminded his old friend, grabbing for another drink and missing it by about three feet. Not surprising, as he had currently had about four Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters down his gullet. "Ah'm gonna kidnahap th' journalisht who's gonna take mah positshun at ta Guide." Zaphod grinned loopily. "Shounds like a lotta fun. Yeh got fired?" he asked.

While the two old friends were slurring a conversation, Mira walked in.

"Whoooeee!" Zaphod said, pointing drunkenly at Mira. "Lookit that number, Ixsh." He grinned stupidly at Mira, who ignored him and headed over to Table Forty-Two, where the interviewers were sitting.

Ford sat up as she walked over. If she got the position, he would have no problem kidnapping her and holding her for ransom. Heck, she looked like she might be a fun gal, she might even go along willingly.

MIRA"S POV:

She ignored the drunken man at the bar, not even noticing that he was Zaphod Beeblebrox. She was so used to seeing drunken guys smiling at her that she just tuned them out. A pity, since she actually had quite a crush on the famous president.

There was one person sitting at table Forty-Two. He was absolutely ridiculous, in the most ridiculous sense of the word. Ridiculously clean, sensible, and sane.

BRIEF(or not) NOTE:

Hitchhiker's Definition of Sane: In this universe, no one is clean, sensible, or sane. Everyone is completely, utterly wacko. If someone appears to be sane, they are often evil, deluded people who may actually be completely schizophrenic. Even you, holding this book and wondering why in the world you are reading this garbage when you have a million better things better to do. Like worry about the Saenuh, a ferocious beast with close to a million teeth (no one has actually ever counted them, as most scientists who have attempted to do so are either eaten, or take one look at the beast, turn white and wobbly, and say "Oh, well, that's close enough to a million") that's on your tail and you, desperately running, shouted "Sane!" and we gave you this answer instead of the one you are really looking for. If indeed this is the case, please shout "Sane, you stupid book!" again at the tone. BEEEP!

END OF NOTE (we now return to our thrilling adventure serial)

Mira stared at the man. He had on a ridiculously sane suit. He had on a ridiculously clean hat. He had on ridiculously clean and polished shoes. Mira stared as he extended a ridiculously manicured hand and spoke in a ridiculously soft, well-measured voice.

"How nice to see you, Mira. Have a seat." He said, smiling a ridiculously kind smile. Mira sat down, unsure of how to act.

"You know my name?" she asked him. He nodded.

"Yes, I do. In fact, I know a lot about you." He smiled a smile that seemed sane, kind, and calm, but only made Mira feel more nervous. This is a tribute to the fact that the universe cannot stand sane things.

"Oh. Um. I'm here to interview for the position of journalist?" she asked, feeling slightly queasy for some reason. The man's ridiculously polite, bland face was starting to make her feel uneasy.

"Ah. Yes. What kind of experience have you had in the field?" he asked pleasantly, sitting back and studying Mira. She shifted again in her seat, wondering irrationally if Henry had been right and maybe she should have become a medicinal healer instead.

"Um. Well, I love to travel, I have a sense of adventure... I wrote for a paper back on my home planet, I have a Master's degree in astrophysics...." she rambled on, the ridiculously sane man nodding pleasantly and commenting on her achievements.

Ford Prefect watched loopily as the girl talked to the interviewer, wondering if her hair really was violet or if that was just the drinks. He grinned at Beeblebrox next to him.

"Hey- do you think her hair really is that color?" he asked him, his voice happily insane. Beeblebrox's wobbly gaze settled on the woman, and he shrugged.

"Violet? Yeah, man. Froody, huh?" he set the fifth pan-galactic gargle blaster down as the Mira girl stood up and shook hands with a very strange man. Ford glanced at the man uneasily- he did not look like he was from the Guide- in fact, he looked very dangerous. Too sane and clean and... he shuddered.

"Hey, man, I think we should kidnap her now if we're gonna do it." Beeblebrox told Ford with a grin. Ford nodded, trying to stand up- he had to grab the counter as he did so.

"YAHHHH!" Ford let out a fearsome yell, ran towards the girl, and wrapped his towel around her neck.

"What the hell! LET GO OF ME THIS- Hrrackkglle!" Mira yelled, her voice ending in a gurgle as the person wrapped a towel around her neck. Then, incredibly, the President of the Galaxy, Zaphod Beeblebrox, appeared next to her, a blaster pointed at her head.

"Right! We're taking this girl prisoner-" Mira yelled something incredibly rude from under the tower- "And all of you need to lay down on the floor!" people there were screaming, crying, praying, but laid down obediently on the floor.

"Uh... so what do we do now?" He asked Ford, looking at him, the gun in his hand wobbling several inches. Ford looked out the window to see several police cars pulling up-

"Run- where's the back door?" he yelled at his prisoner.

NOTE: *yes, another one! Mwahahaa!* The phrase "where is the back door?" is one that is used far more than most people expect. For example, if you happen to be in someone's house and suddenly discover that it was their sister who you accidentally set the police force of half the galaxy on at the exact same time they do, it would do you well to know where all the possible exits are. Similarly, if you are at a very nice party and suddenly say something utterly embarrassing, finding the location of an exit would prove a most worthy endeavor. Or, in the extremely likely event you find yourself being chased by the giant hamster vampire poodle ponies of Acretizon 6, knowing a way out of there would also be a life-saving event. In Ford and Zaphod's condition, this question was no less essential to their immediate survival.

END OF NOTE

"Mhhhrgalllmmpph!" Mira screamed through the towel. Ford looked at her for a moment, then removed the towel from her mouth. She looked at him, then at Zaphod, sighed, then pointed at a rusty fixture of a door behind the bar, then was immediately and unceremoniously slung over Ford's shoulder.

"Excellent!" Zaphod cried, running and pulling Ford, and Mira behind him. The kidnappers burst out of the door at full speed, sprinted across the lawn in the back, cleared the fence by a good foot, and skidded to a halt in front of a round, white spaceship that (for informative purposes for out readers) was the Heart of Gold.

"Let me go this instant!" Mira yelled, pounding at Ford's back with her fists. "I said LET ME GO!!!" Her cries became ineffective once more as Ford wrapped the towel around her mouth and quickly ran into the spaceship.

Zaphod was already at the control panel, booting up systems and engines. After a moment's consideration, Ford tied his prisoner to a passenger's seat, using his towel and tying several infinitely complicated knots so that she could speak, but not move.

As soon as her mouth was at liberty again, Mira started yelling at the two men with full throat. "You let me go this instant- what do you think you're doing, you #$^%^#^%#*#^#*!!!"

Zaphod groaned as he lifted the ship off of the ground, his hands extremely wobbly and causing the ship to drop several feet. Mira screamed slightly as it did so.

"You idiots, never drive a spaceship drunk, you'll get all of us KILLED!" she yelled. Zaphod groaned again, putting his fingers in his ears.

"Ford, could you please put the towel over her MOUTH?!?" he asked, a pained expression on his face. Ford nodded, starting forward towards the girl, freezing in his tracks as she pierced him with a death glare worthy of a mother.

"Don't you dare, buddy." She snarled at him. He retreated several steps, then decided to sit down. Now... what to do with her...? he wondered, glancing out the window as they rose high above the trees, and then, with the blink of an eye, they were in the empty vastness of space.

"So, where do we want to go?" Zaphod said, switching the controls to autopilot. Ford opened his mouth, but never got the chance to answer, as a strange figure moved into the room and spoke, it's voice sending chills through all on board.