The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy / Руководство для путешествующих автостопом по Галактике. Дуглас АдамсЧитать онлайн книгу.
he can’t because you’re lying in front of the bulldozers?”
“Yes, and…”
“I’m sure we can do something about it,” said Ford. “Excuse me!” he shouted.
Mr. Prosser (who was arguing with the bulldozer drivers’ representative about whether or not Arthur Dent was a mental health hazard[26], and how much they’d get paid if he was) looked around. He was surprised and a bit worried to see that Arthur had company.
“Yes? Hello?” he called. “Has Mr. Dent changed his mind[27] yet?”
“Can we for the moment,” called Ford, “assume that he hasn’t?”
“Well?” asked Mr. Prosser.
“And can we also assume,” said Ford, “that he’s going to be staying here all day?”
“So?”
“So all your men are going to be standing around all day, doing nothing?”
“Could be, could be…”
“Well, if you’re okay doing that anyway, you don’t actually need him to lie here all the time, do you?”
“What?”
“You don’t,” said Ford patiently, “actually need him here.”
Mr. Prosser thought about this.
“Well no…”, he said, “not exactly need…”
Prosser was worried. He thought that one of the two of them wasn’t making a lot of sense.
Ford said, “So if you could just pretend that he’s actually here, then he and I could go off to the pub for half an hour. How does that sound?”
Mr. Prosser thought it sounded perfectly crazy.
“That sounds perfectly reasonable,” he said, wondering who he was trying to convince.
“And if you later want to go for a quick one[28] yourself,” said Ford, “we can always cover up for you[29].”
“Thank you very much,” said Mr. Prosser who didn’t know how to play this game anymore, “thank you very much, yes, that’s very kind…” He frowned, then smiled, then tried to do both at once, and failed.
“So,” continued Ford Prefect, “now you could come here and lie down…”
“What?” said Mr. Prosser.
“Ah, I’m sorry,” said Ford, “maybe I hadn’t made myself clear. Somebody has to lie in front of the bulldozers, or there won’t be anything to stop them driving into Mr. Dent’s house, right?”
“What?” said Mr. Prosser again.
“It’s very simple,” said Ford, “my client, Mr. Dent, says that he will stop lying here in the mud if you come and lie instead of him.”
“What are you talking about?” said Arthur, but Ford kicked him with his shoe to be quiet.
“You want me,” said Mr. Prosser, “to come and lie there…”
“Yes.”
“In front of the bulldozer?”
“Yes.”
“Instead of Mr. Dent.”
“Yes.”
“In the mud.”
“In, as you say it, the mud.”
Mr. Prosser sighed. This was more like the world as he knew it. “And in return you will[30] take Mr. Dent with you to the pub?”
“That’s it,” said Ford. “That’s it exactly.”
Mr. Prosser took a few nervous steps forward and stopped.
“Promise?” he said.
“Promise,” said Ford. He turned to Arthur. “Come on,” he said to him, “get up and let the man lie down.”
Arthur stood up, feeling as if he was in a dream.
Ford gestured to Prosser who sadly sat down in the mud. He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it. The mud was all round his bottom and his arms and even got into his shoes.
Ford looked at him and frowned.
“And no knocking down Mr. Dent’s house while he’s away, all right?” he said.
“The thought about the possibility of it,” said Mr. Prosser, “hadn’t even begun crossing my mind.”
He saw the bulldozer drivers’ representative, let his head sink into the mud and closed his eyes. He was trying to find arguments to prove that he was not now a mental health hazard himself. He wasn’t sure about it though. Mr. Prosser shook slightly and sobbed. What a day!
What a day! Ford Prefect knew that it didn’t matter now if Arthur’s house was knocked down or not.
Arthur was still very worried.
“But can we trust him?” he said.
“I’d trust him to the end of the Earth,” said Ford.
“Oh yes,” said Arthur, “and how far is that?”
“About twelve minutes away,” said Ford, “come on, I need a drink.”
Chapter 2
Here’s what the Encyclopedia Galactica has to say about alcohol. It says that alcohol is a colorless liquid made by the fermentation of sugars that has an intoxicating effect on some life forms.
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy also mentions alcohol. It says that the best drink ever is the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster[31]. It says that the effect of a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster is like your brains are smashed by a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick.
The Guide also tells you on which planets the best Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters are mixed, how much you’ll have to pay for one, and what organizations will help you recover afterwards.
The Guide even tells you how you can mix one yourself.
Take the juice from one bottle of that Janx Spirit, it says. Pour into it some water from the seas of Santraginus V. Add three cubes of Arcturan Mega-gin and four liters of Fallian marsh gas into the mixture. Add a drop of Qualactin Hypermint extract, smelling of all the dark Qualactin Zones, sweet and mystic. Drop in the tooth of an Algolian Suntiger. Watch it dissolve in the drink. Sprinkle it with Zamphuor. Add an olive. Drink… but… very carefully…
Now you see why The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy sells much better than the Encyclopedia Galactica.
“Six pints of beer,” said Ford Prefect to the barman of the Horse and Groom. “And quickly please – the world’s about to end[32].”
The barman of the Horse and Groom was an old man. He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked at Ford Prefect. Ford ignored him and stared out of the window, so the barman looked instead at Arthur who shrugged and said nothing.
So the barman said, “Oh yes, sir? Nice weather for it,” and started pouring pints. Then he tried again, “Going to watch the match this afternoon?”
Ford glanced at him. “No, no point[33],” he said, and looked back out of the window.
“Why is that, sir?” said the barman. “Arsenal[34] has no chance?”
“No,
представлял опасность для их психического здоровья
передумал
пропустить рюмочку
мы за вас тут подежурим
а вы за это / взамен
а то скоро наступит конец света
В этом нет смысла.
Футбольный клуб «Арсенал»; основан рабочими артиллерийского завода в Лондоне в 1886 г.