"Bloody hell."
Two years later, Arthur Dent, hapless and mentally scattered, was sitting down in a seat of The Heart of Gold talking to himself.
"Bloody stupid everything.universe...SCREW IT...its just stars.and space.a lot of space." muttered the distressed man of the disintegrated planet Earth.
A certain worker for The Guide heard his mutterings, and came to talk to him with alleviation.
"Hi Arthur, what are you on about?"
"Oh just my home blowing up, nothing important."
"WOULD YOU STOP WITH THAT BLOODY PLANET? Listen, either you tell me a different problem of yours, aside from that stupid planet blowing up one, or I tell you where you can stick it and leave you to travel the galaxy alone, alright?"
"Well, sorry Ford, but all of my problems were left back on Earth. In fact, everything except my mind and my housecoat were left back at Earth."
"Couldn't you have packed up your problems and taken them along with you? I would've given you time."
"Er, no."
"Well," started Ford, with a meaningless smirk, "what other problems do you have? There's got to be at least 1 or 2 on this ship."
Arthur glared corrosively at Ford.
"Right. Aside from me. Come on, Arthur, tell me."
"Well hmm. Aside from you, well.well I think there's one thing I'm having a bit of trouble with. Trillian, you know. The only human alive in whom I've longed for, for as long as I can remember, and I can't even have sex with her. She's with a two-headed, arrogant slob that's not even from the same planet. Talking to her is hard enough without being insulted by that git! The only other person from Earth. Only."
"There you go, talking about that planet again," muttered Ford, sitting down beside Arthur.
"No really. Why's she with that guy? What the hell is she doing? Are they even in love? HOW COME THEY'VE NEVER TOLD ME THEY'RE IN LOVE? AAAAA-"
"ARTHUR, don't panic. Remember the words of The Guide. Always helpful. Now, breathe in deeply, and breathe out. There, nice soothing breaths. Breathe in again, and breathe out again, before you get Intergalactic Incompetent Syndrome."
"What?"
"Intergalactic Incompetent Syndrome. Very common in some parts of the Galaxy. It's what happens when one realizes how mind-wrenching and perplexing the Universe is, and how much is wrong with it and why they hate it so much. Then if one thinks of it too much, their body suddenly freezes and they're unable to do anything physically, and even mentally, for a while. Even some of the smartest professors get it, though of course, not often. Then, with me, working for The Guide and all, one has got to get use to the brain-boggling occurrences of this hoopy, wild, endless void. Take it from me, I know I've had a hard time getting over it."
"You.?"
"Yeah, I had it. But I went through it. Just cruised."
"How did you.?"
"Get cured? Drinks, Arthur. Lots of drinks. But to avoid it completely, just don't panic. Got that?"
"Er, yeah."
"Now if you want to finish off telling me how much you want Trillian that's quite alright."
Two years later, Arthur Dent, hapless and mentally scattered, was sitting down in a seat of The Heart of Gold talking to himself.
"Bloody stupid everything.universe...SCREW IT...its just stars.and space.a lot of space." muttered the distressed man of the disintegrated planet Earth.
A certain worker for The Guide heard his mutterings, and came to talk to him with alleviation.
"Hi Arthur, what are you on about?"
"Oh just my home blowing up, nothing important."
"WOULD YOU STOP WITH THAT BLOODY PLANET? Listen, either you tell me a different problem of yours, aside from that stupid planet blowing up one, or I tell you where you can stick it and leave you to travel the galaxy alone, alright?"
"Well, sorry Ford, but all of my problems were left back on Earth. In fact, everything except my mind and my housecoat were left back at Earth."
"Couldn't you have packed up your problems and taken them along with you? I would've given you time."
"Er, no."
"Well," started Ford, with a meaningless smirk, "what other problems do you have? There's got to be at least 1 or 2 on this ship."
Arthur glared corrosively at Ford.
"Right. Aside from me. Come on, Arthur, tell me."
"Well hmm. Aside from you, well.well I think there's one thing I'm having a bit of trouble with. Trillian, you know. The only human alive in whom I've longed for, for as long as I can remember, and I can't even have sex with her. She's with a two-headed, arrogant slob that's not even from the same planet. Talking to her is hard enough without being insulted by that git! The only other person from Earth. Only."
"There you go, talking about that planet again," muttered Ford, sitting down beside Arthur.
"No really. Why's she with that guy? What the hell is she doing? Are they even in love? HOW COME THEY'VE NEVER TOLD ME THEY'RE IN LOVE? AAAAA-"
"ARTHUR, don't panic. Remember the words of The Guide. Always helpful. Now, breathe in deeply, and breathe out. There, nice soothing breaths. Breathe in again, and breathe out again, before you get Intergalactic Incompetent Syndrome."
"What?"
"Intergalactic Incompetent Syndrome. Very common in some parts of the Galaxy. It's what happens when one realizes how mind-wrenching and perplexing the Universe is, and how much is wrong with it and why they hate it so much. Then if one thinks of it too much, their body suddenly freezes and they're unable to do anything physically, and even mentally, for a while. Even some of the smartest professors get it, though of course, not often. Then, with me, working for The Guide and all, one has got to get use to the brain-boggling occurrences of this hoopy, wild, endless void. Take it from me, I know I've had a hard time getting over it."
"You.?"
"Yeah, I had it. But I went through it. Just cruised."
"How did you.?"
"Get cured? Drinks, Arthur. Lots of drinks. But to avoid it completely, just don't panic. Got that?"
"Er, yeah."
"Now if you want to finish off telling me how much you want Trillian that's quite alright."