Trillian and Zaphod had been teleported to a skinny hall in an office building. They were standing in front of a door with a plaque it that read: "Next to oatmeal, mush is about the best porridge. Fried mush is a really delicious substitute for potatoes, or to serve with steak, roasts, sweet bread, sausage-any meat dish in fact." At least, this was what it read in English. In Jubanese, the local tongue of the planet, it said: "Private Brain Care Specialist Resource Center."

"Oh good," said Zaphod. "I've always wanted a private braincare specialist. Maybe they can recommend a good one."

"You've already had a private braincare specialist," pointed out Trillian. She could never be sure if Zaphod was joking. "Gag Halfrunt, remember?" He's the best in the business. He stole your banjo, remember?"

"Ah ha ha," laughed Zaphod. "I knew that, actually."

"Well, I think we should go in there and ask them to check Halfrunt's files for us," said Trillian.

"I'm glad you agree," said Zaphod loudly. "It was a good plan of mine. That I thought up." He strolled in to the office with Trillian behind him, rolling her eyes. Then she smiled because she really did like Zaphod and thought he was a pretty lucky guy.

Last time we saw Ford and Arthur they were push. Now, they are button.

Arthur and Ford found themselves on a colourful platform suspended in space.

"Hey, this would be a pretty great place to have a party," said Ford.

An evil voice laughed loudly. "Ha HA Ha Haaaa! Welcome to the platform of DOOM. You will have to fight me video game style! Thus I have about ten…or maybe…A lot of Melvin minions! And I am twice my normal size!"

"Aha ha ha!" cried Ford. "You will never take us alive!"

The voice hesitated. "That's the plan, yes."

"I mean it in a bad way—for you!" retorted Ford.

"Oh. That's different, then."

"Is anyone else as scared as I am?" asked Arthur out of interest.

About a million Melvin minions ran out and attacked Arthur.

"Ghya!" he cried.

"Ghya!" cried the Melvin-minions for a different reason.

"This is hopeless!" cried Arthur.

"HAHAHA! I AM EVIL THIS TIME! SO YOU SHOULD CALL ME DARK LORD MAGUS BECAUSE THAT IS MY EVIL NAME! OKAY! OKAY! I WILL NOW LAUNCH MY ULTIMATE ATTACK! VULCAN DEATH GRIP! COOL! HUH! HUH!" is what the Melvins said before they all attempted to perform the Vulcan death grip on Arthur.

They tripped and squished each other.

"Well done, Arthur!" said Ford encouragingly. "You defeated them!"

"Am I dead?" asked Arthur. He didn't want to look. "I don't want to look."

"Neither do I," said Ford. "So I guess we'll never know."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not," said Arthur.

"You're not tricking me that way," said Ford, guardedly.

"No, really—"

"Ah ha ha HA," said Halfrunt, stepping in to the light.

"Ah!" said Ford, surprised. "I must admit. I wasn't expecting you to be so frightening.

"Telegram," said Arthur quietly.

"What!" Let me see that!" said Ford and Halfrunt. Ford snatched the telegram. "Can I have your bathrobe?" he asked. He had bad timing.

"What? No!"

"Oh, well- Nevermind," said Ford. He looked at the telegram. "HAVE TAKEN ZAPHOD AND TRILLIAN HOSTAGE STOP GIVE US THREE MILLION ALTARIAN DOLLARS IF YOU WANT TO SEE THEM AGAIN STOP TELL ARTHUR TO BRAUSH HIS TEETH STOP BEST WISHES MARION PENNY LEAH"

"Do you have a reply?" asked the telegram man.

As a matter of fact, they did: "MANY HAPPY RETURNS TO MARION STOP ARTHUR UPSET WITH THE TEETH COMMENT STOP SAYS ITS NOT LIKE HE GOES AROUND EATING PIES ALL DAY STOP GAG SENDS HIS LOVE STOP YOURS FORD".

"There," said Ford, satisfied. "That oughta lure them in to a false sense of security."

"I should think it'd just make them annoyed," said Arthur. "Seeing as you didn't act intimidated at all and made no mention of giving them money."

"Arthur, old chap," said Ford patting him on the back. "You clearly have no idea how teenage girls' minds work. Now let's go rescue our friends."

"ButWait!" said Gag Halfrunt. But nobody listened.

Penny, Leah, and Marion were cackling with glee. The reason they were cackling with glee was this: they were under the impression that their revenge had gone off entirely without a hitch. 'Revenge for what?' and inobservant reader might ask at this point. A gloating reader who had read the end but was pretending they hadn't and were just really perceptive might answer 'Well duh-'

"Oh no!" cried Leah, who had received Ford's telegram. "They aren't intimidated at all! This is just awful!"

Marion snatched the telegram and started to read. Halfway through, she folded it up and said, "Can I take this with me?" before walking off to bake some chicken.

"But—Wait!" said Penny. But nobody listened.

Ford and Arthur were trying to figure out how to break in to Penny, Marion, and Leah's fortress. They were also trying to find out when they had acquired a fortress. But that matter wasn't as pressing.

"Excuse me," said Marion. "One hundred and two paragraphs ago, you used a Joss Whedon line and forgot to credit him. Okay, carry on."

Leah carried on and caused a hullabaloo until Marion socked her in the kisser. That is, she hit Leah's kiss shaped stamp marker with a sock.

Penny punched Leah in the mouth for not offering her candy.

"I'm not laughing anymore!" declared Leah. "But I am! I mean, no I'm not!"

Ford and Arthur entered the room dressed as some teenage girls.

"Why are you guys dressed as some teenage girls?" asked Penny.

"Ha HA" cried Ford, whipping off his wig. "It is I, Ford Prefect!"

"And I, Arthur Dent," said Arthur, considerably less enthusiastically.

"Yes, we know that," said Penny. "I was just wondering why you were dressed up like teenage girls."

Ford ignored her. "Give us back our friends, you unlikely barbarians!" At this point, he expected some sort of cage to drop down. He also expected them to tell him why they had plotted revenge and to please tell him exactly how they did it.

Instead, they looked at him quizzically. "Your friends?"

Ford handed them the telegram. He then dropped to the ground, rolled to avoid any possible gunfire, and crouched at ready.

"Oh, I see," said Penny. "You must be mistaking us for the Ooblex Crush."

"THE OOBLEX CRUSH!" asked Ford.

"Yes," said Penny. "We sent our ransom note by postcard. We are holding twenty cases of rainbow trout and Zaphod's banjo for ransom until you give us an active role in the story. This isn't ours."

"But I guess you can have these back now," said Marion, nudging the pile of fish with her toe.

"Those aren't mine," said Ford, standing up slowly. "But the Ooblex Crush, you say. Come, Arthur! This requires an entirely different disguise!"

"You'll never survive!" called Marvin helpfully, peering in through the window. He followed them.

Ford, Arthur and Marvin entered the Ooblex Crush lair dressed as teenage girls. Arthur looked at Ford reproachfully.

"Budget cuts," Ford explained.

"Hey, wait! You can't go in there! We're keeping Zaphod and Trillian in there!" called Leah Lennon of the Ooblex Crush. Or tried to. It sounded more like 'Heythere.' So the three of them assumed it didn't apply to them.

The Ooblex Crush has often been described as one of the most singularly fantastic bands in existence. One of their best points is that all their songs are so refreshingly brief. This is of no real intention of their own, it just often turns out that way since they have some trouble making noise with their swollen vocal cords which are free to roam their jelly like bodies at will. The band members, Leah Lennon, Marion McCartney, and Penny Harrison, are all that remain of the Ookanputt species and therefore, generalizations about that species are often made judging by the Ooblex Crush. The Ookanputt species is known to be controversial, jelly-like, and one of the best bands in the universe. The Ooblex Crush members are often unclothed as the last time one of them tried to put on a t-shirt, their arms exploded (This wouldn't have been so unfortunate had they not been holding their guitar at the time. In a rare spurt of speech they had cried 'No! My guitar! My arms!') Even the band's toughest critics had to admit—they tasted delicious.

The Ooblex Crush's lair largely resembled the Ooblex Crush, itself. That is, it was blobby and has displaced vocal chords.

"Hey Ford, Arthur, hi how are you," said Zaphod excitedly whilst trying to retain his cool. "I've really got it made now, huh? The Ooblex Crush, man! They must think I'm a really awesome guy!"

"Don't worry, Zaphod!" called Ford. "We'll get you out of there!" He gestured at Zaphod's cell in a manner, which suggested he intended to rip the door off its hinges.

"Where's Trillian?" asked Arthur.

"Oh, er, yeah, about that," said Zaphod to buy time. "I, er, well, don't know."

"Oh," said Ford. He jumped in to the ventilation system and crawled off.

"That was really brave of him," commented Arthur, generally.

There was an awkward silence as they listened to the thumping noises of Ford crawling around in the ventilation system.

Ford gritted his teeth as he crawled in the metal tube. He pulled a pocket calculator from his satchel and made some calculations. He threw it away after it answered 63 ten straight times in a row. Then he tried to remember what he had been trying to calculate. He was very surprised when he looked up and found himself in a ventilation system. He remembered what he was doing and continued with his purposeful crawling and teeth gritting. A little way along, he found his pocket calculator and, after briefly wondering what it was doing there, slipped it back in to his satchel.

By that time, a member of the Ooblex Crush, who had slurped in to the ventilation system to find out what sort of dirt could be making that much noise and what was it doing in their oxygen anyways, had surrounded him. It pounced on him, absorbed him, and carried him off.

"Mmph!" said Ford.

Arthur stood in a comfortable sitting room feeling be uncomfortable. Ford glared at him as he wiped large pieces of jelly off himself.

Three large jell-o's stood in the corner and attempted to discuss among themselves.

"Look," said Arthur, feeling something should be said. "All I asked was where the bathroom was."

"I tried to tell him not to," said Zaphod peevishly. His cell had been moved in to the room. "But I was helpless to stop him." He made a mock gesture of helplessness.

The Ooblex Crush turned to the three of them to announce the results of their attempted discussion. "W-we erm w-w-w-w-ell, that is-s, w-we-"

"Alright," said Zaphod, strolling out of his jail cell. "Let's get out of here."

"Butwait!" cried one of the jellies in another rare spurt of speech.

"Forget it," advised Zaphod.

"Bu…"

"Forget it!" Zaphod jumped in to the Ooblex ship, pulling Ford and Arthur with him. He looked around briefly for Marvin and quickly gave up. "Let's go!"

Trillian sat at a table in a crowded bar. She kept her mind determinedly blank as she glared at the symbols in front of her. She furiously avoided thinking about how much money she had riding on this. She looked at the robot sitting across from her. She hoped she wasn't giving anything away. "Do you—"

"Do I have a five? Is that what you were going to ask me?" interrupted the melancholy voice of the robot.

"Yes," said Trillian, defeated. "I fold, Marvin. You win."

"I feel nothing but miserable about winning," said Marvin.

"I'm sorry about that," said Trillian attempting to be sympathetic. She wasn't doing a very good job.

Marvin paused long enough to make Trillian uncomfortably aware that he knew she wasn't actually sympathetic. "Ha!" he said contemptuously. He took Trillian's money and sulked off. He took her money only because he knew it would work out badly for her. He had no idea what he might do with it. This made him utterly depressed.

Trillian shrugged. "Anymore takers?"

A man slid in to Marvin's empty seat. He had a lampshade on one of his heads. "Hey baby," he said and winked at her.

"Zaphod!" asked Trillian, astonished.

"In the flesh, baby. But keep it on the down low. This is my disguise. I go by the name Danger in this costume," said Zaphod quietly.

"Danger? As your name?" asked Trillian, incredulous. She thought of something else. "That's your disguise?"

"Zaphod, when are we leaving?" called Arthur loudly to be heard over the noise of the bar. He was not enjoying himself. "Oh, hello Trillian."

About a million undercover Galactic police pounced on Zaphod.

Arthur slapped his forehead. "I meant Danger! Danger!"

"Dung Brians!" cursed Zaphod loudly.

Arthur had a bad feeling. Ford had an annoyed feeling. He also had a drunk feeling. Not adequately drunk, though. That was why he had an annoyed feeling.

"Alright," said Ford to no one. He pulled a banana from his satchel, aimed, and fired. "Blam, blam, blam, blam-blam-blam-BLAM!"

"Aah!" cried a policeman, clutching his heart. He fell to the floor.

"Blam-blam, whizz!" cried Ford.

Two more policemen fell to the floor.

"How are you doing that!" cried Arthur.

"My methods are purely psychological," said Ford gravely.

"My brain!" cried Arthur and went off for some quiet time in the bathroom.

The Galactic Police's methods were not psychological. A female trainee shoved a gun in to Ford's back. "Alright, mister. Show's over."

"My dear girl," said Ford. "You can't possibly penetrate my fish skin armor. It's a force field of the strongest kind.

"Alright," she shrugged and stalked off.

"Ford, hi," said Zaphod. "You know I'm having a really bad day?"

Ford threw Zaphod a grapefruit with which he was meant to unlock his handcuffs with. Zaphod ate it instead.

"Ah!" cried Ford, aghast. "That was my only grapefruit!"

Trillian snatched the key from one of the policemen and unlocked Zaphod. The policeman violently objected to this so Ford peacefully shot him with his banana.

"Argh!" cried the policeman.

"Aha ha ha!" laughed Ford. That was supposed to be his evil laugh. It didn't come out quite right, though. Maybe he ought to practice it more.

"Where's Arthur?" asked Trillian.

"Oh, ah," said Ford. "I think he was having some brain trouble."

"What else is new?" snapped Zaphod, impatiently. "Let's get monkeyman and get out of here."

Five minutes later, all four of them were conveniently converged on the Heart of Gold.

Ten minutes later, the Heart of Gold was conveniently far from all police ships and a pleasant distance from any Vogon ones. However, it turned out they were a very unfortunate distance from a large, flowery ship, which was something they found out after they crashed in to it. The force of the crash propelled them in to the gravitational force of a particularly ominous looking planet. As it turned out, the planet's gravitational force had a uniquely tractor beam-like effect with was drawing them and the flowery ship towards the surface of the planet. The surface was a particularly sinister looking one.

"Oh great," said Arthur, weakly.

Ford looked the planet up in the guide. What it said was this:

"There is no entry for the planet Crayit as there is no one stupid enough to go on it."

"Hey guys!" said Ford excitedly. "We're landing on an uncharted planet!"

They landed. The owner of the flowery ship, a man with two bushy tufts of hair and pink Hawaiian shirt stepped out of the flowery ship. When they stepped out of their's he immediately started in on them.

"Look! Look what you did!" cried the man gesturing at his ship angrily. There was a large scrapish-dent in the side of it.

"Yes," said Ford, taking charge. "And we're very sorry abo-"

"You've chipped the paint is what you've done!" he carried on. He was standing knee deep in a swamp but he didn't seem to notice. The swamp seemed to be oozing some sort of radioactive material.

"Look," said Ford. "We'll pay for the damage." It was a barefaced lie but the man didn't care or notice. He was absolutely set on being righteously indignant.

"And the window-I think you've scatched, you'd better pat for that too." A tentacle-y animal was slowing wrapping itself around his leg.

"You've-" Ford tried to tell him.

"And another thing. What do you think you are doing materializing your ship wherever you damn please, do you think you're King of the road? You're idiots. Stupid idiots! Are you crazy?"

Arthur was reminded forcibly of everytime he had every broken a traffic law-pedestrian or no-in front of a shrill woman. He had the same feeling in his stomach.

"Can we please put this behind us?" asked Ford, exasperated.

"We most certainly can not—" A volcano exploded, cutting the man off. "Nasty planet, isn't this?" he realized, surprised. This was the last thing he said before he was suddenly pulled in to the swamp by the tentacle-y thing with a squelching noise.

"Hate that sort of person," said Ford. "Can't take anything in stride."

"Did I miss anything?" asked Zaphod. "I was just freshening up."

"Nothing worth mentioning," Trillian assured him.

"What happens now?" asked Zaphod.

"Well, we can either go home or go on some sort of journey," said Trillian. A pained look passed across her face.

"Home is a bad idea for me," said Zaphod hastily.

"This planet is a bad idea for me," said Arthur levelly.

Zaphod fished out his peril sensitive sunglasses before agreeing.

By that time, the ship had sunk in to the swamp.

Zaphod made a big show of pretending this was just what he had meant to happen before seriously thinking about what to do. He thought it should probably involve them getting off this planet.

By the time he remembered the flowery ship, it had also sunk in to the swamp.

"Oh," said Zaphod. "Ah."

"I recommend," began Zaphod.

"We should-" Zaphod started.

"What?" asked Ford.

"Get our ship out of that swamp."

"Oh," said Ford.

"Maybe we should find someone who knows how," Zaphod went on. "Wait, hang on, I'm having a brains wave here. We go and find some cat with some sort of spaceship from swamp remover and we…"

"…Yes?"

"Steal it from him," finished Zaphod, triumphantly.

"Good plan," said Ford.

"Right," said Zaphod.

"Get to it," said Ford.

"Right," said Zaphod. He did nothing. It began raining.

"Excuse me?" said a brusque voice.

"Yes?" said Trillian.

"I hear you're looking for a spaceship from swamp remover." He stepped in to the light. He was wearing a crisp suit and his hair was well-combed.

"Yes," said Trillian emphatically. "We are. Do you have one?"

"No," said the man. "But I am a very good lawyer."

"That doesn't help us!" cried Zaphod angrily.

"Well, I have a friend who's an accountant. Do you need one of those?"

"I might," said Arthur.

"He might not, he means," said Trillian hastily, seeing the sales pitch look on the man's face.

"I see," said the man gravely. "Come to my office." They followed him.

"What happened…here," said Arthur gesturing at the general landscape.

"I beg your pardon?" asked the man. "Oh. I see what you're asking. Well, we don't think about, erm," he fumbled for the word 'outside' "all this very much. Don't see a need for it, really. I'm told it used to be quite nice. I prefer offices. We all do: MoreMore—suitable, if you will, for our line of work. Accounting and such. I'm also very fond of food courts. That's where I eat my lunch," he explained.

They stepped through some glass revolving doors. Inside was the sort of high vaulted, wood paneled foyer you'd expect to see underneath some hundred floors of big, respectable corporation. A shiny brass sign declared 'Dickens and Chums Celebrity Law'.

"Every once and awhile, I get sent out to look for customers," the lawyer explained.

"What's your name?" asked Zaphod, suspiciously.

"Mr. Gray," said Mr. Gray.

Zaphod nodded, his suspicions confirmed.

"You mean you have spent your whole lives in offices?" asked Arthur, incredulously.

"And food courts," Mr. Gray reminded him.

"That's an awful life!" exclaimed Trillian.

"Well, we all get company cars," said Mr. Gray defensively.

"Where do you drive them to?" asked Zaphod sarcastically.

"They are very nice cars," said Mr. Gray firmly. "Now, let's see what we can do about your ship. Do you need it appraised?"

"No."

"Do you need it cleaned?"

"Not at the moment."

"Pea-shooted?"

"No."

"Pity. We offer that service for free. Maybe you would like it slapped with a fish?"

"Not particularly."

"Good. That takes a lot of paper work and someone has to go outside. Do you need a retail adviser?"

"No!"

Mr. Gray sighed. He could see these people were going to be difficult. "Perhaps something more obscure. Do you require a spaceship from swamp remover professional?"

"That," said Ford, "Would do nicely."

"Alright," said Mr. Gray, smiling relievedly. He pushed a button and began speaking in to a loud speaker. "We have need of Mr. Earl in the main foyer, please. Mr. Earl, main foyer. Thank you."

"You need me?" asked a gruff voice from behind them.

"Ah. Mr. Earl," said Mr. Gray. "These people require your services."

"These people want me ter get their spaceship out of a swamp?" Mr. Earl was a huge beefy man in jean overalls. Arthur wondered if he was going to pull the ship out with his bare hands.

He pulled a spaceship from swamp remover out of his pocket. It looked to Arthur like a bunch of things glued together on a miniature inflatable raft. But his main concern was that it was only about two inches high.

"Alright," said Mr. Earl. "Show me the swamp."

They walked outside. Ford showed him the swamp. Mr. Earl pitched the spaceship from swamp remover in to the swamp.

"Darn," he said. "I've dropped it." He thought for awhile, reached in and pulled out the spaceship with his bare hands.

"Thanks!" said Ford. They all ran in to the Heart of Gold because nobody wanted to tell Mr. Earl they didn't have any money.

"Well," said Trillian, once they were safely away from Mr. Earl. "What happens now?"

"Do you want to be returned to Earth?" asked Ford.

"I'm sorry," apologized Arthur. "I didn't hear you correctly."

They returned Arthur to Earth. Arthur went directly to bed.

When Arthur woke up the next morning, the first thing he decided to do was open his closet. He was a bit excited about this decision as he hadn't opened his closet in a long, long time.

When he opened it, a skeleton fell on him.

"Argh!" he cried.

"Happy birthday!" said Arthur's friend, Ford Prefect. He stood in the doorway of Arthur's room.

"It's not my birthday," Arthur managed from underneath the skeleton.

"It was when I put it in there," Ford pointed out. "As a practical joke, if you like. Or a present, if you will."

Arthur grinned weakly.

"Look," said Ford, more business-like now that he had gotten the formalities out of the way. "Can I borrow that?" he gestured towards the skeleton.

"Alright," said Arthur.

"Thanks a million—you won't regret this."

Arthur very much doubted that.

THE END