An immeasurable space of time later a ship materialized behind the angel
and hit him in the head. Zaphod Beeblebrox president of the galaxy was
onboard as were a last generation and almost last generation product of the
biological computer popularly called the Earth. Their names were Arthur
Dent and Trillian. A man who was from Beetleguise and not Guilford after
all and was Zaphod's cousin, Ford Prefect, was on the bridge.
Arthur was in a state of shock. This was nothing unusual, except for the fact that Ford Prefect was also gaping at the figure floating outside the bridge. The angel turned around and swore expressively, only to realize that this had very little effect without air to carry the sound. He was consumed in a blaze of light that deposited him on the bridge. He then continued his swearing. "Ford," Arthur said, "that is an angel." He glanced at Ford waiting to be told that, no, it was only a native of some planet or another and was therefore an unfamiliar weirdness he could tolerate and not a familiar weirdness he couldn't.
"Don't be stupid monkey-man." Zaphod said. "It's," "Actually," the angel interrupted, "I am an angel." "What is an angel?" asked Zaphod as he felt annoyed that both Ford and Arthur seemed to think this was a revelation of gargantuan size and they were leaving him out. "A myth on Earth." Ford replied. Something was bothering Arthur besides his overwhelming need for tea. "Er, excuse me," he said nervously, "but aren't angels not supposed to swear?" The angel looked at him like he'd gone crazy. "I just got hit by a ship and I have a mega-headache. Swearing is normally outside the job description, but I'd say it was justified."
"What are you doing here?" Ford asked. The angel had relaxed and was wandering about the ship poking various buttons. "Well, this nutter was babbling on about other worlds and the big man upstairs is quite insistent that there aren't any. I thought I'd take a quick look, and wham bang! There are. I figured there're two options. God's a clueless blighter who can't tie his shoes or he's playing silly buggers with us. Now, I've met His kid and talked to Him a bit, and I didn't think option number one was likely. Tried to tell a few others, they said I was round the bend. Seemed a bit daft, just sitting around singing hosannas and reading bad novels when there were whole worlds out there so I left. And I found this book." He waved a copy of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. "All clear?" Ford blinked. This threw Arthur completely off balance. "What?" Arthur said desperately. Zaphod shrugged. "Cool."
Trillian came onto the bridge and froze. "Zaphod," she said, "Is that an.angel?" The angel banged his head on a convenient wall. "I need a drink." Ford smiled. Now this was something he could help with. "C'mon, I've got some Janx Spirits. We can let Arthur try to explain it; it'll occupy them till we get back." Arthur sputtered in indignation. "Angels don't drink!" he yelled after their retreating backs.
Arthur was in a state of shock. This was nothing unusual, except for the fact that Ford Prefect was also gaping at the figure floating outside the bridge. The angel turned around and swore expressively, only to realize that this had very little effect without air to carry the sound. He was consumed in a blaze of light that deposited him on the bridge. He then continued his swearing. "Ford," Arthur said, "that is an angel." He glanced at Ford waiting to be told that, no, it was only a native of some planet or another and was therefore an unfamiliar weirdness he could tolerate and not a familiar weirdness he couldn't.
"Don't be stupid monkey-man." Zaphod said. "It's," "Actually," the angel interrupted, "I am an angel." "What is an angel?" asked Zaphod as he felt annoyed that both Ford and Arthur seemed to think this was a revelation of gargantuan size and they were leaving him out. "A myth on Earth." Ford replied. Something was bothering Arthur besides his overwhelming need for tea. "Er, excuse me," he said nervously, "but aren't angels not supposed to swear?" The angel looked at him like he'd gone crazy. "I just got hit by a ship and I have a mega-headache. Swearing is normally outside the job description, but I'd say it was justified."
"What are you doing here?" Ford asked. The angel had relaxed and was wandering about the ship poking various buttons. "Well, this nutter was babbling on about other worlds and the big man upstairs is quite insistent that there aren't any. I thought I'd take a quick look, and wham bang! There are. I figured there're two options. God's a clueless blighter who can't tie his shoes or he's playing silly buggers with us. Now, I've met His kid and talked to Him a bit, and I didn't think option number one was likely. Tried to tell a few others, they said I was round the bend. Seemed a bit daft, just sitting around singing hosannas and reading bad novels when there were whole worlds out there so I left. And I found this book." He waved a copy of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. "All clear?" Ford blinked. This threw Arthur completely off balance. "What?" Arthur said desperately. Zaphod shrugged. "Cool."
Trillian came onto the bridge and froze. "Zaphod," she said, "Is that an.angel?" The angel banged his head on a convenient wall. "I need a drink." Ford smiled. Now this was something he could help with. "C'mon, I've got some Janx Spirits. We can let Arthur try to explain it; it'll occupy them till we get back." Arthur sputtered in indignation. "Angels don't drink!" he yelled after their retreating backs.
