The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Page #33

He steadies himself on the table.

BENJY MOUSE:

Sit, Earthman. Eat.

Benjy pushes his hand through the air, the chair at the

end slides backward.

ARTHUR:

In a moment, perhaps. I can't seem to let

go of this table.

Slartibartfast steps forward.

(CONTINUED)

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SLARTIBARTFAST:

Pardon the interruption, but I'll just be

getting back to work now.

BENJY MOUSE:

That won't be necessary, Slartibartfast.

ZAPHOD:

(cracking up, like he's stoned)

Smarty fart blast?

BENJY/FRANKY

Eat!

ZAPHOD:

Right.

BENJY MOUSE:

It looks like we won't be needing the new

Earth after all, now that we've found the

only living native of the planet.

SLARTIBARTFAST:

But...they've nearly finished the oceans.

FRAHKY MOUSE:

That will be all, Slartibartfast.

Slarti, slightly hurt, backs away out of sight.

ARTHUR:

I'm sorry, when you say "the only living

native" -- do you mean me? What about

her?

Benjy holds up a strand of hairs, same color as Trillian's.

BENJY MOUSE:

We performed some rudimentary DNA tests on

the ship. She's half-native. Her real

father was a Blahardid, the hyper-

intelligent yet carelessly nomadic race

native to the planet Olbed, who apparently

popped in to Earth for a one-nighter with

a one Ms. Francis McMillan.

TRILLIAN:

(looking up, mouth full)

Which explains a lot.

She goes back to eating. Arthur is taking this all in.

ARTHUR:

So -- mostly harmless and me. That's it.

BENJY MOUSE:

We're sorry to have stage managed you so

shamelessly, but once we learned you were

the only full-blooded Earthling in the

universe, it was important that we get you

here by any means necessary.

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FRANKY MOUSE:

We've spent a considerable amount of time

on your planet trying to find this

wretched Ultimate Question, and the

thought of doing it all over again on

account of those idiotic Vogons sickens me

to no end. Which is why you're here.

BENJY MOUSE:

Sit, Earthling. Sit.

Arthur goes to pull out the chair beside him.

BENJY/FRANKY

NOT THERE!

Arthur jumps. The others look up. Benjy and Franky

cover their outburst with a smile.

BENJY MOUSE:

This chair is much more -- comfortable.

Benjy makes a motion. The chair he pushed out before

slides over behind Arthur's knees, making him sit.

BENJY MOUSE (CONT'D)

Drink.

He slides the cup of tea over. Arthur takes a sip.

ARTHUR:

Mmmm. This really is delicious.

BENJY MOUSE:

Good. Glad you like it. Now -- to

business.

Ford and Zaphod raise their glasses like drunken sailors.

FORD/ZAPHOD

To business!

Benjy and Franky fire them a look.

ZAPHOD:

Sorry. Thought you were proposing a

toast.

BENJY/FRANKY

EAT!

Ford and Zaphod eat. Benjy turns to Arthur. Smiles. No

one notices, through the window, a row of Vogons cresting

the hill.

BENJY MOUSE:

About this Ultimate Question. You see,

we've been offered a quite enormously fat

contract to do the 5D TV chat show and

lecture circuit, and quite frankly, we're

very much inclined to take it.

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FRANKY MOUSE:

But - and here's the point - we have to

have product. Which means we still need

an ultimate question.

BENJY MOUSE:

Or at least, one that sounds ultimate.

FRANKY HOUSE:

Yes. Got to sound good.

ARTHUR:

An Ultimate Question that sounds good...

From a couple of mice...for a chat show.

FRANKY MOUSE:

And as it turns out, the chances are

astronomically high that the structure of

the question is encoded in your brain.

Which is why we need it. More tea?

Franky tries to pour more tea. Arthur stops drinking, a

little woozy. Did he hear them right?

ARTHUR:

I'm sorry -- did you just say you need my

brain?

BENJY MOUSE:

Yes. To extract the question.

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