Chapter 35
They went to Arthur’s house in the West Country, shoved a couple of towels and stuff in a bag, and then sat down to do what every Galactic hitch hiker ends up spending most of his time doing.
They waited for a flying saucer to come by.
Friend of mine did this for fifteen years, said Arthur one night as they sat forlornly watching the sky.
Who was that?
Called Ford Prefect.
He caught himself doing something he had never really expected to do again.
He wondered where Ford Prefect was.
By an extraordinary coincidence, the following day there were two reports in the paper, one concerning the most astonishing incidents with a flying saucer, and the other about a series of unseemly riots in pubs.
Ford Prefect turned up the day after that looking hung over and complaining that Arthur never answered the phone.
In fact he looked extremely ill, not merely as if he’d been pulled through a hedge backwards, but as if the hedge was being simultaneously pulled backwards through a combine harvester. He staggered into Arthur’s sitting room, waving aside all offers of support, which was an error, because the effort caused him to lose his balance altogether and Arthur had eventually to drag him to the sofa.
Thank you, said Ford, thank you very much. Have you… he said, and fell asleep for three hours.
…the faintest idea he continued suddenly, when he revived, how hard it is to tap into the British phone system from the Pleiades? I can see that you haven’t, so I’ll tell you, he said, over the very large mug of black coffee that you are about to make me.
He followed Arthur wobbily into the kitchen.
Stupid operators keep asking you where you’re calling from and you try and tell them Letchworth and they say you couldn’t be if you’re coming in on that circuit. What are you doing?
Making you some black coffee.
Oh. Ford seemed oddly disappointed. He looked about the place forlornly.
What’s this? he said.
Rice Crispies.
And this?
Paprika.
I see, said Ford, solemnly, and put the two items back down, one on top of the other, but that didn’t seem to balance properly, so he put the other on top of the one and that seemed to work.
A little space-lagged, he said. What was I saying?
About not phoning from Letchworth.
I wasn’t. I explained this to the lady. “Bugger Letchworth”, I said, “if that’s your attitude. I am in fact calling from a sales scoutship of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation, currently on the sub-light-speed leg of a journey between the stars known on your world, though not necessarily to you, dear lady.” I said “dear lady”, explained Ford Prefect, because I didn’t want her to be offended by my implication that she was an ignorant cretin…
Tactful, said Arthur Dent.
Exactly, said Ford, tactful.
He frowned.
第35章
他们来到阿瑟位于西部乡村的家，往一个包里塞了几条毛巾和一些乱七八糟的东西，然后坐在那里做每个银河系漫游者花大部分时间做的事情。
他们等一艘飞碟路过。
“我一个朋友在这上面花了十五年。”某天晚上毫无希望地瞪着天空的时候阿瑟说。
“谁？”
“叫福特·长官。”
他发现自己在做一件他绝不希望自己再做的事情。
他在想福特·长官在什么地方。
出于极度的巧合，第二天报纸上出现了两个报道，一个是最令人惊奇的飞碟事件，另一个是酒吧里面一系列不太体面的骚乱。
第二天早上福特·长官出现了，看起来宿醉未消，并且抱怨阿瑟从来不接电话。
实际上他看起来糟糕透顶，像是不仅被倒拖着穿过了一片篱笆，而且那片篱笆同时也被倒拖着塞进了联合收割机。他脚步蹒跚地走进阿瑟的客厅，挥手拍开所有伸过来帮忙的手，这实在是个错误，因为这个动作让他彻底失去了平衡，最后阿瑟把他拖到了沙发上。
“谢谢。”福特说：“非常感谢。你有没有……”他说道，然后就睡着了，睡了三个小时。
“一点点概念，”他突然间醒过来接着说，“从昂宿星座驳入英国电话系统有多难吗？我知道你没有，所以我要告诉你，”他说，“不过你得马上给我弄一大杯咖啡。”
他摇摇晃晃地跟着阿瑟进了厨房。
“蠢货接线员一个劲问你是从什么地方打来的，你试着告诉他们说是莱切沃斯（英格兰东南部的一个城市），但是他们说你是从你打进来的线路看，不可能是莱切沃斯。你在干什么？”
“给你弄点黑咖啡。”
“哦。”福特看起来有点古怪地失望。他凄凉地四周打量着。
“这是什么？”他问。
“麦片。”
“这个呢？”
“辣椒粉。”
“我明白了。”福特庄严的说，然后把这两个东西放回去，一个摞在另一个上面，但是那看起来不能保持平衡，于是他把另一个摞在上面，这下可以了。
“有点空间差，”福特说，“我刚才说什么来着？”
“说不是从莱切沃斯打电话。”
“我不是。我跟那个女士解释，‘去他的莱切沃斯，’我说，‘如果你这么说的话。我实际上是从天狼星机器人公司的巡回销售船上打来的，目前正以亚光速在对你们的世界已知的两颗星球之间飞行，不过并不一定飞向你，亲爱的女士。’我说了‘亲爱的女士。’”福特·长官解释说，“是希望她不会因为我暗示她是个无知的笨蛋而生气……”
“很得体。”阿瑟·邓特说。
“的确如此。”福特说，“很得体。”
他皱起眉毛。