英文原版

“Ship! Sun! Wham bang!” he cried. “I mean forget lasers and stuff, you guys are into solar flares and real sunburn! Oh, and terrible songs.”
His eyes followed the stream of liquid glugging out of the bottle on to the table. Something ought to be done about it, he thought.
“Hey, you want a drink?” he said. It began to sink into his squelching mind that something was missing from this reunion, and that the missing something was in some way connected with the fact that the fat man sitting opposite him in the platinum suit and the silvery trilby had not yet said “Hi, Ford” or “Great to see you after all this time,” or in fact anything at all. More to the point he had not yet even moved.
“Hotblack?” said Ford.
A large meaty hand landed on his shoulder from behind and pushed him aside. He slid gracelessly off his seat and peered upwards to see if he could spot the owner of this discourteous hand. The owner was not hard to spot, on account of his being something of the order of seven feet tall and not slightly built with it. In fact he was built the way one builds leather sofas, shiny, lumpy and with lots of solid stuffing. The suit into which the man’s body had been stuffed looked as if it’s only purpose in life was to demonstrate how difficult it was to get this sort of body into a suit. The face had the texture of an orange and the colour of an apple, but there the resemblance to anything sweet ended.
“Kid…” said a voice which emerged from the man’s mouth as if it had been having a really rough time down in his chest.
“Er, yeah?” said Ford conversationally. He staggered back to his feet again and was disappointed that the top of his head didn’t come further up the man’s body.
“Beat it,” said the man.
“Oh yeah?” said Ford, wondering how wise he was being, “and who are you?”
The man considered this for a moment. He wasn’t used to being asked this sort of question. Nevertheless, after a while he came up with an answer.
“I’m the guy who’s telling you to beat it,” he said, “before you get it beaten for you.”
“Now listen,” said Ford nervously – he wished his head would stop spinning, settle down and get to grips with the situation – “Now listen,” he continued, “I am one of Hotblack’s oldest friends and…”
He glanced at Hotblack Desiato, who still hadn’t moved so much as an eyelash.
“… and…” said Ford again, wondering what would be a good word to say after “and”.
The large man came up with a whole sentence to go after “and”. He said it.
“And I am Mr. Desiato’s bodyguard,” it went, “and I am responsible for his body, and I am not responsible for yours, so take it away before it gets damaged.”
“Now wait a minute,” said Ford.
“No minutes!” boomed the bodyguard, “no waiting! Mr. Desiato speaks to no one!”
“Well perhaps you’d let him say what he thinks about the matter himself,” said Ford.
“He speaks to no one!” bellowed the bodyguard.
Ford glanced anxiously at Hotblack again and was forced to admit to himself that the bodyguard seemed to have the facts on his side. There was still not the slightest sign of movement, let alone keen interest in Ford’s welfare.
“Why?” said Ford, “What’s the matter with him?”
The bodyguard told him.
“飞船！太阳！‘砰’的一声巨响！”他叫道，“我是说，激光之类舞台上的玩意儿算个屁！你们这些伙计用的是太阳烈焰，真正的太阳！哦，还有那些可怕的歌声！”
他的眼睛跟随着从瓶中汩汩地流到桌面上的液体，得干点儿什么来处理这件事，他想。
“嘿，你想喝点儿吗，”他问。他那受到压抑的思维终于开始意识到，这次老友重逢缺了点儿什么，而缺的这点儿什么在某种意义上与下述事实有关：这个坐在他对面、身穿铂灰色套装、戴着银色帽子的胖子至今还没有招呼一句“嗨，福特”，或者“时隔这么久，看到你真是太高兴了”——或者任何别的什么话，更关键的是，他甚至连动都没有动弹一下。
“霍特布莱克？”福特说。
一只肥厚的大手从后面落在他的肩膀上，把他推开，他狼狈地跌出自己的座位。福特抬头张望，想找到这只无礼的手的主人。这个主人并不难发现……因为他是一个是有7英尺高的庞然大物，跟那些皮沙发似的……油光锃亮，粗笨结实，填满了实实在在的材料。包裹着这样一个身躯的套装，看起来似乎它之所以存在的惟一目的，就是把这样一个身躯塞进一套衣服里有多么用难。这人的脸，从质地上看像是橙子，颜色则像苹果，跟任何甜甜的东西的相似之处也就到此为止。
“小家伙……”一个声音从这人的嘴里滚出来，仿佛在他的胸腔里度过了一段很艰苦的时光，
“啊，什么？”福特以想好好聊聊的人的口吻说。他摇摇晃晃地重新站稳脚跟，失望地发现自己的头顶还没超过这人的肩膀。
“滚！”这人说，
“噢，什么？”福特说，很惊讶自己怎么会如此清醒，“你是谁？”
这人想了一会儿，以前从来没有人向他提过这样的问题。但尽管如此，他还是没过多久便想到了一个答案。
“我是叫你滚蛋的人，’他说，“不然就揍扁你的蛋。”
“喂，听着，”福特紧张地说，他希望自己晕平乎的脑袋能停止旋转，平静下来，把握住形势。“喂，听着，”他继续说，”我是霍特布莱克最老的朋友之一，而……”
他瞟了一眼霍特布莱克·迪西亚托，他仍然呆坐在那儿，连睫毛都没有动一下。
“……而……”福特又说道，一边在想有什么好的词可以接在“而”后面。
那个大块头倒是在“而”之后接上丁一整句话。他把它说了出来。
“而我是迪西亚托先生的保镖，我对他的身体负有责任，对你的却不负任何责任，所以我要把它带走，免得它受到伤害。”
“喂，等一会儿。”福特说。
“什么！”保镖轰隆隆地说，“不能等！迪西亚托先生不会和任何人说话！”
“你应该让他自己说说他是什么打算。”福特说，
“他不会和任何人说话！”保镖咆哮着说。
福特瞟了霍特布菜克一眼，不得不对自己承认，这真是事实：对面仍然还是没有一丁点儿动静，完全没有理会福特的强烈要求。
“为什么？”福特问，“他出了什么事？”
保镖告诉了他。

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