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droidguy1119
02-20-2004, 04:54 PM
Introduction

Here I will post some segments of my script. syxtfour's positive reaction to it has gotten me to to this.

Please, leave feedback. I know this isn't original work, but hopefully someone enjoys my vision of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

(c)2004 Tyler Foster. Please, don't steal this.

Also, no offense to Douglas Adams for adapting his work, hopefully I've done a good job and I don't want to get sued. Apologies to the estate of the late, great author.

droidguy1119
02-20-2004, 04:56 PM
1.
SPACE

Millions of constellations and stars, black holes, white dwarves, planets, galaxies, and all sorts of grand imagery flies around as the camera begins to close in from out in the middle of nowhere. As the NARRATOR speaks the lines, the camera closes in on the subject of his description.

NARRATOR
Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small, unregarded yellow sun.

The camera moves with ease, gliding through the stars up to the sun in all its glory.

NARRATOR
Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-eight million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet.

Quickly passing by Mercury and Venus and their assorted moons, the camera pauses to regard Earth, as it was, long ago, when men lived in trees.

NARRATOR
Earth. Filled with life forms of various shapes and sizes, but on the whole, in the hands, somewhat frighteningly, of an odd species of ape-descended life forms that are so amazingly primitive, they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.

The camera begins to move down toward the surface of the planet.

NARRATOR
This planet has – or rather had a problem. Most of these primitive life forms spent most of their lives being miserable, even the ones with digital watches. Solutions for this problem mainly revolved around the movement of small green pieces of paper, which is odd, because on the whole, it wasn’t the pieces of paper that were unhappy.

Bursting through the thick sheet of clouds, the oceans and some of North America is visible to the left, and England and the farthest left part of Asia just barely seen over the curving sphere of the planet.

NARRATOR
Many people were increasingly of the opinion that they never should have come down from the trees, and even others scoffed at that, saying that even leaving the oceans had really been a pretty rotten idea in itself.

The camera reaches the general area of Britain, about 2 or 3 B.C. A picture of Jesus on the crucifix fades in a little.

NARRATOR
And then, one Thursday, nearly two thousand years after one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would to be nice to people for a change...

A time-lapse shows 2,000 years passing, including walls being built around the image of Jesus, which turns into the crucifix on the front of a church seen through the window of a café.

The camera pulls back on a GIRL, reading a book, who suddenly looks up like she has had the epiphany of all time.

NARRATOR
...a girl, sitting on her own, in a small café in Ricksmansworth suddenly realized what it was that had been going wrong, all this time, and how the world could be made a good and happy place. This time, it was right, it would work, and nobody would have to get nailed to anything.

The GIRL suddenly turns, looks out the window. As the NARRATOR speaks, the road outside grows very bright, and with a lot of shaking, the GIRL, the café, all the patrons, and the people on the street are all blown into dust.

NARRATOR
Unfortunately, before she could get to a phone to tell someone about it, a terrible, stupid catastrophe occurred...and the idea was lost forever.

After the café and everybody involved dissolves, the screen returns to black.

NARRATOR
This...is not her story.

The café and everyone return, in reverse at high speeds, like the film is on rewind. The camera goes back, out of the café, down the road, and hovers over the city.

NARRATOR
But it is the story of that terrible, stupid catastrophe and some of its consequences.

The camera slowly begins to close in on a small village surrounded by farmland.

NARRATOR
It is also the story of a book...called The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Not an Earth book, never published on Earth, until the terrible catastrophe, never seen or heard of by any Earthman, and afterward, not likely to gain much in the way of Earth readership. Nevertheless, a wholly remarkable book.

The camera has lost most of the city, and continues to move closer to the village.

NARRATOR
In fact, it was probably the most remarkable book ever to come out of the great publishing corporations of Ursa Minor, and also highly successful – more popular than the Celestial Home Care Omnibus, better selling than Fifty-Three More Things To Do in Zero Gravity, and more controversial then Oolon Colluphid’s trilogy of philosophical blockbusters, Where God Went Wrong, Some More of God’s Greatest Mistakes and Who is this God Person Anyway?

The camera has reached the village, and keeps slowly gliding toward something.

NARRATOR
In many of the more relaxed civilizations on the Outer Eastern Rim, The Hitchhiker’s Guide has already supplanted the great Encyclopedia Galactica as the standard repository of all knowledge and wisdom, because while it has omissions, and contains much that is apocryphal, or at least, wildly inaccurate, it scores over the older, more pedestrian work in two important respects.

By now, we can see the camera is aiming for a house on a slight rise, at the edge of the village. It looks like it has recently rained, and everything is soaked.

NARRATOR
First, it is slightly cheaper, and second, it has the words “Don’t Panic” inscribed in large friendly letters on the cover.

The camera is almost there, moving toward a window.

NARRATOR
But the story of this terrible, stupid Thursday, the story of its extraordinary consequences, and the story of how these consequences are inextricably intertwined with this remarkable book begins quite simply.

The camera has reached the house.

NARRATOR
It begins with a house.

The camera goes in through the window. It is dark inside. Display the title:

THE HITCHHIKER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY

2.
INT. SMALL BRICK HOUSE -- MORNING

Still on the same shot, the camera pans past a clock on the wall and down to the bed. ARTHUR DENT, a thirty-year old, tall, dark-haired man, lying asleep, looking somehow uncomfortable. We STOP on ARTHUR, who rolls over and groans slightly.

His alarm clock beeps insistently. He tries to ignore it for a few moments, but then groggily gets up and turns it off. He leans over the bed table, turning on the lamp, stretching, looking irritated. He puts on his digital watch and wanders out of the bedroom.

Inside his front room, ARTHUR pulls open the shades and continues to look a bit irritated. There is a bulldozer sitting in his yard. He wanders off to the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, he brushes his teeth very quickly. After he is done, he adjusts his mirror to shave. As the mirror moves, it reflects the bulldozer in his front yard. He glances at it, irritated, and wanders into the kitchen.

ARTHUR plugs in his tea kettle, and pulls out milk, beginning to make coffee. Yawning, he looks out his kitchen window at the farmland, scratches his head, looks back out toward his front yard at the bulldozer, then turns back around. He looks a bit more irritated. Rubbing his skull, he wanders back to the bedroom.

From the bedroom, the shaving mirror still reflects the bulldozer. Putting on a T-shirt to go with his pajama pants and getting a bathrobe to complete his ensemble, ARTHUR stares at the mirror, then stops to rub his head some more.

ARTHUR moves toward the bedroom mirror. He sticks out his tongue wearily.

ARTHUR
Yellow.

Something registers.

ARTHUR
Oh, sh--.

ARTHUR dashes out of the room. From inside, through the front window, ARTHUR can be seen diving in front of the bulldozer.

EXT. SMALL BRICK HOME – MORNING

MR. L. PROSSER, an overweight, weary and red-faced man with graying black hair sighs deeply. He is leaning on the edge of the bulldozer and looking down at ARTHUR, who lies in the mud with his arms crossed.

NARRATOR
Mr. L. Prosser, as they say, is only human.

ARTHUR looks back up at PROSSER with an intense distaste and defiance.

NARRATOR
In other words, he was a carbon based, bipedal life form descended from an ape. To be precise, he was forty, worked for the local council, and was irritated that his bulldozer was being blocked, quite stubbornly, by Arthur Dent. Curiously enough, he was unknowingly a direct male-line descendant of Genghis Khan, although intervening generations, racial mixing and whatnot had juggled his genes enough to erase any Mongolian characteristics. The only traces of Mr. Prosser’s ancestry remaining was a stoutness about the stomach and a predilection for little fur hats.

PROSSER tries to put on a steely-eyed look, but fails somewhat miserably.

PROSSER
Come off it, Mr. Dent. You can’t win, you know. This bypass has to be built, and you can’t just lie there forever.

ARTHUR shifts in the mud, looking annoyed and making squelching noises.

ARTHUR
I’m game, we’ll see who rusts first, shall we? I really don’t see what the big fuss is about this bypass anyhow.

PROSSER
What do you mean? It’s a bypass! You’ve got to build bypasses. People need to get from place to place! You can’t do that without bypasses.

ARTHUR
Well, that’s not my problem, now, is it? Maybe they should just figure out where the hell they really want to be in the first place and then you wouldn’t have to bother with this silly bypass nonsense.

PROSSER shifts uncomfortably, looking around as if hoping to see someone who knew what to say to get ARTHUR to move. ARTHUR makes some more squelching noises.

PROSSER
You know, you were entitled to make suggestions or protests at the appropriate time.

ARTHUR looks furious.

ARTHUR
Appropriate time!? APPROPRIATE TIME!? The first time I heard of this was when a workman came by my house yesterday! I asked him if he’d come to clean the windows, but no, he said he’d come to knock the house down! And that was only after he’d wiped down a few windows and charged me a fiver.

PROSSER
But Mr. Dent, the plans have been available in the local planning office for the last nine months.

ARTHUR
Oh, yes, soon as I heard of this plan, I went straight around to see them yesterday afternoon. You hadn’t exactly gone out of your way to call much attention to them, had you? Such as maybe telling someone about them?

PROSSER looks more uncomfortable.

PROSSER
Well, the plans were on display –

ARTHUR
On display? I had to go down to the cellar to find them!

PROSSER
That’s the display department.

ARTHUR
With a flashlight.

PROSSER
Well, the lights had probably gone.

ARTHUR
So had the stairs.

PROSSER
Er – well – you did find them, didn’t you?

ARTHUR
Oh, yes. Yes, I did. The plans were on display, in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet, stuck in a disused lavatory, with a sign on the door reading “Beware of the Leopard.”

PROSSER seems stunned by this. He pauses to think for quite a long time. ARTHUR settles down a little bit.

PROSSER (quietly)
Well...it’s not like it’s a particularly nice house.

ARTHUR
I beg your pardon! It’s my house! Sorry, but I happen to like it!

PROSSER
Well, you’ll like the bypass!

ARTHUR
Oh, shut up. Shut up, leave immediately, take your bloody bypass and your bulldozers with you. You haven’t got a leg to stand on and you know it.

PROSSER struggles to find something to respond with. A flash of ARTHUR’s house burning with ARTHUR fleeing from flaming arrows and a hail of spears goes by. PROSSER shakes his head. He glances at the bulldozer, and puts on his most menacing look.

PROSSER
Mr. Dent?

ARTHUR
Hello? Yes?

PROSSER
Do you have any idea how much damage that bulldozer would suffer if I were to just let it...roll right over you?

ARTHUR looks at the bulldozer.

ARTHUR
How much?

PROSSER’S eyes become cold.

PROSSER
None at all.

CUT TO:

3.
VILLAGE ENTRANCE – MORNING

At the entrance of ARTHUR’s village, FORD PREFECT is walking quite briskly toward ARTHUR’s house. He rummages a bit quickly through his satchel, looking concerned as he speeds along. He is a ginger-haired man, with a bit of an odd look to him. The NARRATOR cuts back in.

As the NARRATOR describes FORD, there is a silent montage of footage of FORD doing some of the things described.

NARRATOR
Coincidentally, “none at all” is exactly how much suspicion Arthur Dent had that one of his closest friends was not actually descended from an ape, but actually from a small planet in the vicinity of Betelgeuse, and not Guildford as he usually claimed.

There is a shot of BETELGEUSE, the camera moving in a bit of a circle around the planet.

NARRATOR
Arthur Dent had never suspected this at all. Fifteen years ago, after carefully studying the planet, its inhabitants, and its customs, the friend had carefully blended in with society. For the entire time, as an example, he posed as an out-of-work actor, which of course is quite plausible.

In what is presumably FORD’s house or apartment, we see ARTHUR looking at a stack of scripts on the table, including JOSEPH AND THE AMAZING TECHNICOLOR DREAMCOAT and GODSPELL.

NARRATOR
On the other hand, some miscalculation had led to him seeing the name “Ford Prefect” as nicely inconspicuous. Still, to the friends he made on Earth, he was merely a bit eccentric, with a habit of getting drunk at university parties and making fun of astrophysicists until someone threw him out.

We see FORD, first drinking at a bar, and turning around to see a table full of OLDER MEN IN SUITS. In the next shot, FORD is sitting at their table, laughing hysterically, and pointing at them, while they send him stern and slightly angered looks, and then we see FORD being thrown out of a bar.

Cut back to:

FORD is close to ARTHUR’s hill, turning the corner, looking up at the sky nervously. Resume the silent montage.

NARRATOR
Sometimes he would get seized with oddly distracted moods, in which he would stare into the sky, as if hypnotized, until someone asked him what he was doing.

We look down on an almost somber FORD, staring up at the stars, before we cut to a farther, ground-level shot, and see a bunch of figures walking up.

NARRATOR
He would then grin at them and reply “Just looking for flying saucers.” If asked what kind, his reply was always “Green ones!” He would then laugh hysterically for a moment, then lunge for the nearest bar and buy an enormous round of drinks.

The camera stays on FORD, talking to the friends who have arrived, and the narrator’s words lip-synch with FORD’s mouth as “just looking for flying saucers” and “green ones” are spoken.

NARRATOR
But in all actuality, he was looking for any type of flying saucer at all – fifteen years is a long time to get stranded on a place as dull as Earth. He said green because it was the traditional space livery of the Betelgeuse trading scouts.

FORD has reached the edge of ARTHUR’s property. Focus on a shot of FORD’s slightly unusual but concerned face as he strides forward.

NARRATOR
Ford wished someone would arrive. He knew how to flag down flying saucers. He knew how to see the Marvels of the Universe for less than thirty Altairian dollars a day. Ford Prefect was, in fact, a researcher for The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

FORD passes a bunch of union workers who are arguing with PROSSER, who turns to look at FORD as he passes.

ARTHUR, still laying in the now-drying mud, looks up as a shadow moves over ARTHUR.

FORD
Hello, Arthur.

ARTHUR squints and holds up his hand to shade his eyes.

ARTHUR
Oh! Hello, Ford. Um...How are you?

FORD kneels next to ARTHUR and looks around concernedly.

FORD
I’m fine. Look, are you busy right now?

ARTHUR
Am I busy?

ARTHUR looks at FORD with a bit of astonishment.

ARTHUR
Well, I’ve got this bulldozer to lie in front of defiantly for the rest of the day, because they’ll knock my house down if I move, but other than that...no, not especially, why?

FORD
Good. Is there anywhere we can talk?

ARTHUR simply continues to stare at FORD, who continues to stare in the sky. ARTHUR glances at the sky, then back at FORD.

ARTHUR
I was being sarcastic.

FORD
Sorry, I didn’t notice.

ARTHUR
I caught that...Look, I –

FORD
We’ve got to talk. Now.

ARTHUR
Er, go ahead then, talk.

FORD
And drink. We must drink. It is vitally important that we both talk and drink. Get up, we’ll go to the pub in the village, come on.

ARTHUR
We – I – Look, don’t you understand? That man wants to knock my house down!

ARTHUR points at PROSSER. PROSSER looks over again. FORD looks a bit confusedly at ARTHUR.

FORD
Well...he can do it while you’re away, can’t he?

ARTHUR
What? Ford, I don’t want him to!

FORD
Ah. I see.

FORD looks at the sky again, then at his watch. ARTHUR pulls his watch up to look at it as well. He turns back to FORD.

ARTHUR
Look, Ford, what’s the matter with you?

FORD
Nothing! Nothing is the matter. I’ve just got to tell you the most important thing you’ve ever heard. I’ve got to tell you now, I’ve got to tell you at the Horse and Groom, and it has to be over a few pints, because you’re going to need a stiff drink.

ARTHUR’s expression changes from astonishment to a bit of weakening resolve.

ARTHUR
But...but what about my house?

FORD looks at ARTHUR, then the bulldozer, then at MR. PROSSER, who is still staring suspiciously at FORD. FORD turns back to ARTHUR.

FORD
That man. He’s the one who wants to knock your house down.

ARTHUR
Yes. He wants to build a –

FORD
And he can’t, because you’re lying in front of his bulldozer.

ARTHUR
Yes, and –

FORD
I’m sure I can make an arrangement, give me a moment.

Tenaciousd1212
02-20-2004, 06:29 PM
Pretty damn good my friend, pretty damn good.

anaria22
02-21-2004, 06:34 PM
Not bad! I'm impressed. I would love to see the actual movie with a script of this caliber. (although for some reason, a lot of the lines sound a big like D.N.A's. Not that that's a bad thing) I like the narrator. Clever and hopefully in the movie.

droidguy1119
02-21-2004, 06:52 PM
Yes, most of the dialogue I kept verbatim except in places I had to change things to make it fit the script format or integrate some of Adams's descriptions.

droidguy1119
02-22-2004, 12:40 PM
ARTHUR
Ford, what are you...

ARTHUR trails off and stares as FORD stands up and looks at PROSSER, who turns the rest of the way around.

PROSSER
Hello? Yes? Has Mr. Dent come to his senses?

FORD
Can we, for the moment, assume that he hasn’t?

PROSSER looks less than thrilled.

PROSSER
Well, I suppose. What is it then?

FORD
Can we also not assume that he is going to be remaining in the mud for the rest of the day?

PROSSER
Yes...I suppose so, why?

FORD
So, then. Your men are going to be standing around all day, doing absolutely nothing.

PROSSER
Could be, could be...

FORD begins to stride toward PROSSER.

FORD
Well, then, if you’re resigned to that anyway, you don’t really need for him to actually be here, and I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I just took him away and slipped down to the pub for a few drinks, say for about a half an hour.

PROSSER
What?

FORD
Since you know he’s not planning on moving, could I borrow him and take him with me to the local pub?

PROSSER
Um...I...I suppose...

FORD
Good. We’ll do that. And if you feel the need later to pop off for a drink or two, we’d be happy to cover for you in return.

PROSSER
Well. That would be nice.

FORD
It’s a deal then.

FORD walks back toward ARTHUR, as PROSSER walks over to where ARTHUR is lying, looking completely baffled.

ARTHUR
Ford, I don’t underst –

FORD
Shh!

FORD pulls ARTHUR to his feet. ARTHUR looks puzzled still.

PROSSER
Good.

FORD
Yes, quite. And now, if you would just be so kind as to lie down in the mud there ‘till we get back.

PROSSER
WHAT?!

FORD
Well, it’s quite simple. My client, Mr. Dent, agrees that he will get up out of the mud if you will lie there in his place until we get back.

PROSSER looks completely dumbfounded.

FORD
Come on, now. Lie down.

PROSSER
You want me...to lie down...

FORD
In front of the bulldozer.

PROSSER
In front of the bulldozer.

FORD
Yes.

PROSSER
In the mud.

FORD
Yes.

PROSSER
Instead of Mr. Dent.

FORD
Yes. In, as you say, the mud.

PROSSER
In...in return for which, you will take Mr. Dent...down to the pub.

FORD
Perfect. That’s quite right.

MR. PROSSER looks sad for a moment, then takes two steps forward, and looks at FORD.

PROSSER
Promise?

FORD
Promise.

MR. PROSSER sighs, looks down, and slowly lies down in the spot where ARTHUR had been laying, making a squelching noise as he lowers himself. FORD looks down at him, nods, and turns away, dragging ARTHUR, who looks wildly confused behind him. At the gate, FORD turns and looks back at MR. PROSSER.

FORD
Remember now...no sneaky knocking Mr. Dent’s house down while he’s away, all right?

PROSSER looks indignant from the mud.

PROSSER
The mere thought hadn’t even begun to speculate about the merest possibility of crossing my mind.

FORD and ARTHUR vanish through the gate, and MR. PROSSER looks up at the beautifully clear sky. They head down the road and out of ARTHUR’s village toward a small pub. FORD continuously watches the sky as he walks.

ARTHUR
Ford, what the hell is going on?

FORD
It’s the end of the world.

ARTHUR doesn’t seem to hear him.

ARTHUR
Do you really think we can trust him?

FORD
Myself, I’d trust him to the end of the Earth.

ARTHUR
Yes, well, how far is that?

FORD
About twelve minutes away. Let’s go, let’s go, I need a drink.


4.
EXT. VILLAGE

As FORD and ARTHUR head toward the pub, the camera pulls back and upward, away from them into the sky. From above, we follow FORD and ARTHUR along the road to the pub.

NARRATOR
The Encyclopedia Galactica has an entry on alcohol. It says that alcohol is a colorless volatile liquid formed by the fermentation of sugars and also notes its intoxicating effect on certain carbon-based life forms.

We see a book, rather sterile, and a shot of this definition on the page.

NARRATOR
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy also mentions alcohol. It says that the best drink in existence is the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, and that the effect of drinking one is like having your brain smashed out with a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick.

We see the Hitchhiker’s Guide, much like a small laptop, with a picture of the drink on the screen.

NARRATOR
The Guide also tells you on which planets the best Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters are mixed, how much you can expect to pay for one, and what voluntary organizations exist to help you rehabilitate afterward.

We see a shot of one such building.

ARTHUR and FORD reach the pub, and head inside, FORD taking one last look up at the sky.

INT. PUB – DAY

ARTHUR and FORD enter the pub and FORD goes straight up to the counter.

FORD
Six pints of bitter. And quickly please, the world’s about to end.

The BARTENDER looks at FORD a tad questioningly over his glasses, but FORD is staring out the window. The BARTENDER looks at ARTHUR instead, but ARTHUR shrugs helplessly and looks at FORD. The BARTENDER looks down at the glass he is polishing and simply begins preparing their drinks.

BARTENDER
Oh yes, sir? Nice weather for it. Going to the match this afternoon?

FORD stares at the BARTENDER.

FORD
Well, no.

BARTENDER
What’s that, forgone conclusion, you reckon? Arsenal without a chance?

FORD
No, no, it’s just that the world’s about to end.

BARTENDER
Oh, yes, sir, so you said.

The BARTENDER stares over his glasses at FORD as he prepares the drinks. FORD stares back. The BARTENDER looks back down.

BARTENDER
Lucky escape for Arsenal if it did.

FORD looks a bit confused. FORD frowns.

FORD
No, not really.

The BARTENDER takes a deep breath, then looks back up at FORD.

BARTENDER
Alright, then, six pints.

The BARTENDER places the drinks on the counter. ARTHUR, who has turned back, gives a weak smile. ARTHUR turns around and smiles weakly at the rest of the pub. People give him odd looks. A DRUNKARD looks at the beer on the table, then at ARTHUR and FORD. After a moment of staring, he smiles drunkenly.

FORD
Get off, they’re ours.

The DRUNKARD almost falls out of his chair. FORD turns back to the BARTENDER and gives a strained grin.

FORD
Here you are, keep the change.

The BARTENDER looks a bit surprised.

BARTENDER
What, from a fiver? Thank you, sir.

FORD
You’ve got ten minutes left to spend it.

The BARTENDER sighs again and walks away. FORD turns around and hands a pint to ARTHUR, who barely notices. ARTHUR is still looking around, although he seems more concerned again.

ARTHUR
Ford...what are we doing here?

FORD
Drink up! You’ve got three pints to get through.

ARTHUR
Three pints? At lunchtime?

The DRUNKARD gives a small shout of agreement. FORD shuts his eyes in slight aggravation, but does not turn back to the DRUNKARD.

FORD
Look, time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.

ARTHUR nods and looks around again, but his patience is shortening.

ARTHUR
Yes, yes, very deep. You should send that in to Reader’s Digest, they’ve got a page for people like you.

FORD grunts and gestures an empty glass toward ARTHUR’s still untouched cup.

FORD
Well, come on. Drink up.

ARTHUR
Why three pints all of a sudden?

FORD
Muscle relaxant.

FORD downs another drink very quickly. ARTHUR whistles and the DRUNKARD looks impressed. FORD slaps ARTHUR on the arm.

FORD
You’ll need it.

ARTHUR gestures helplessly with his glass. He seems to have given up trying to understand.

ARTHUR
Muscle relaxant?

FORD
Muscle relaxant.

ARTHUR looks into his glass, then around the bar yet again, as if something new might have shown up to tell him what was going on.

ARTHUR
Did I do anything wrong today? Have I been paying attention? Really? Has the world always been like this and I’ve been too wrapped up in myself to notice?

FORD sighs and turns ARTHUR toward him.

FORD
All right. I’ll try to explain. No. Wait. Too much to explain. Let me sum up. How long have we known each other?

ARTHUR
Oh, I don’t know. Five years, maybe six. Most of it seemed to make some kind of sense at the time...

ARTHUR tries to look around the bar again, but FORD turns ARTHUR back, grabbing his chin. FORD looks kind of nervous. ARTHUR looks down to try to study FORD’s eyes while FORD is preparing.

FORD
Look. How would you react if I said that I’m not from Guildford after all, but from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse?

ARTHUR stares at FORD for a long moment, then shrugs tiredly.

ARTHUR
Oh...I don’t know...why? Do you think it’s the sort of thing you’re likely to say?

FORD sighs, drops his hands to his sides, turns around, looks at the bar, then picks up his remaining pint.

FORD
Drink up. The world’s about to end.

ARTHUR sips his first drink, finally, while glancing around the pub. Everyone looks annoyed. A man at one table waves at ARTHUR and his friends laugh when ARTHUR waves back uncertainly. ARTHUR turns around toward the bar again.

ARTHUR
This must be Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays.

5.
UPPER CLOUDS OF EARTH – DAY

The NARRATOR narrates over the following screen direction, except where there is other dialogue.

NARRATOR
On this particular Thursday, something was moving quietly through the ionosphere many miles above the surface of Earth. Several somethings, in fact. Several dozen huge yellow, blocky, chunky, slablike somethings. Somethings as huge as office blocks, as silent as birds. Earth, of course, was perfectly oblivious to their presence, because that was the way the somethings liked it at the moment. The somethings went unnoticed at Goonhilly, they passed over Cape Canaveral without a blip, and Woomera and Jodrell Bank looked straight through them, which was a shame because it was exactly the kind of thing they’d been looking for for years.

There is a glimpse of something yellow and boxy as it moves swiftly through a cloud. OMINOUS MUSIC BUILDS (maybe the Jaws theme for a laugh).

Cut to Cape Canaveral, where a large room filled with computers is showing pictures of sky. The yellow shape does not appear on any of the screens. An ENGINEER sits and sips a coffee while reading a newspaper.

Another glimpse. A different part of it passes above a bird.

At Woomera a MAN walks into the bathroom and at Jodrell Bank a GROUP OF SCIENTISTS are playing cards. They both have screens of sky.

More glimpses of it. The back of it is lit up.

A BALDING SCIENTIST looks up from his paper. Light glows on his face as if he is watching a screen. His eyes twitch and he turns toward the screen with great interest.

BALDING SCIENTIST
Oh, my Lord...

A cut to an OVER-THE-SHOULDER shot shows he is watching a muted basketball game. The player shooting misses and the ball bounces away. Cut to a WIDE SHOT of a lab with a very large screen showing a clouds over the edge of some land mass. The BALDING SCIENTIST can still be heard.

BALDING SCIENTIST
Missed again. Bloody hell.

Cut to:

Cut to the BAR. Zoom into FORD’s bag, through the side. We see the Sub-Etha Sens-O-Matic. We can also see a small black rod, and a device that looks very much like a large electronic calculator. On the front of the calculator are the words “Don’t Panic.” There is also a large white bath towel.

NARRATOR
In fact, the only place they registered at all was on a small black device called a Sub-Etha Sens-O-Matic, which was winking away quietly to itself.

FORD looks concerned, suddenly, and turns to ARTHUR. FORD starts looking at ARTHUR up and down, as if trying to see something.

ARTHUR
What is it?

FORD
Do you have a towel with you?

ARTHUR
What? No...why, should I have?

The action slows to a sudden stop onscreen. The NARRATOR speaks. As he does, images appear on screen to match what the NARRATOR is talking about.

NARRATOR
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has a few things to say on the subject of towels.

anaria22
02-22-2004, 02:24 PM
hehehe. God I love those books. You're doing a great job droidguy! Keep 'em coming.

droidguy1119
02-22-2004, 04:45 PM
Thanks, that's basically all I've written so far -- more when I get through with the next patch.

Pretty soon the book gets a lot thicker on the narrative, so it's gonna be harder to adapt, but hopefully I can keep things intact.

anaria22
02-22-2004, 05:48 PM
If you do add more, make sure you add the wierd little subplot with belgium and the words of arthur that somehow got transfered to two sides negotiating that spurs them to war. Continues for a long time until a gross calculational error occurs and they end up in a dogs mouth. And of course, "nothing happened. Then suddenly, nothing continued to happen." I love all those. Great stuff.

droidguy1119
02-22-2004, 05:50 PM
Anything quirky or funny I'm going to do my best to keep. :D

EvilDeadNDN
02-22-2004, 11:01 PM
Wow. I dig immensely.

Seems youre tossing in the more "scriptier" version. I dont think thats a word.

But yeah, that takes some f'n effort.

Great narrative-persona.

droidguy1119
02-23-2004, 12:43 PM
Thanks.

droidguy1119
02-23-2004, 04:36 PM
Note: I have added two new segments to the above script bits. They are bolded so you can easily find them.

droidguy1119
02-23-2004, 06:12 PM
[Read the note above first...]

NARRATOR
A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar traveler can have. Partly, it has great practical value.

A shot of a plain white bath towel, lying in an empty room.

NARRATOR
You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand combat...

There are quick shots of the above as they are mentioned.

NARRATOR
...wrap it around your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal – a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes if you can’t see it, it can’t see you.

A HITCHHIKER sneaks past a Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal – feeling in front of him to find his way past. This includes feeling the face of the Beast itself, but it does not move.

NARRATOR
...you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal; and of course you can dry yourself with it if it still seems clean enough. More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value.

Cut to:

Two ALIEN STRAGS leaning against a dirty wall in some slum section of the galaxy. We CLOSE IN on them slowly from afar.

NARRATOR
For some reason, if a strag – non-hitchhiker – discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel with him, he will immediately assume that the hitchhiker is also in possession of everything else they could possibly need, such as a washcloth, tin of biscuits, ball of string, map, gnat spray, wet-weather gear, etc., etc., that the hitchhiker may have accidentally “lost”. What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still know where his towel is, is clearly a man to be reckoned with.

The FIRST ALIEN STRAG turns to the left and a smile breaks out.

NARRATOR
Thus, phrases that have since passed into hitchhiker slang...

FIRST ALIEN STRAG
Hey, Ford Prefect, my man!

FORD passes by the two ALIENS and the first ALIEN gives FORD a strange physical greeting, which FORD returns. FORD walks off screen right. Both ALIENS stay, grinning and waving as he leaves.

FIRST ALIEN STRAG
Hey, you sass that hoopy?

SUBTITLE
Sass: Know, be aware of, meet, have sex with
Hoopy: Really together guy

The SECOND ALIEN STRAG nods.

FIRST ALIEN STRAG
There's a frood who really knows where his towel is.

SUBTITLE
Frood: Really, really, amazingly together guy

Cut back to:

At Jodrell Bank, there is a small, quick buzzing. All the SCIENTISTS look up at one another.

SCIENTISTS (mostly together, in agreement)
Tea time.

As they exit the room, there is a THUNDEROUS CRASHING NOISE.

On the sound, cut back to:

ARTHUR turns around suddenly, spilling some of his beer. FORD does not flinch.

ARTHUR
What was that?

FORD does not turn to ARTHUR as he speaks.

FORD
Don't worry, they haven't started yet.

ARTHUR calms down and looks at the spill running down his arm.

ARTHUR
Thank God for that.

FORD
That's probably just your house being knocked down.

It takes a second for this to register. FORD downs his third drink.

ARTHUR
What?

ARTHUR drops his pint entirely and runs to the window. The DRUNKARD moans in agony at the spilled alcohol.

From the window, ARTHUR can indeed see his house being run over by MR. PROSSER's bulldozer.

ARTHUR
My God, they are! My house! They're knocking down my house!

ARTHUR runs back to FORD and grabs him by the lapels. FORD's expression remains blank, although slightly questioning.

ARTHUR
Ford?

ARTHUR's expression changes from panic to confusion to anger.

ARTHUR
Ford!

FORD
Yes?

ARTHUR
What the hell am I doing here? They're knocking down my house!

FORD
Yes, it appears so.

ARTHUR
Why am I here drinking?

FORD
Muscle relaxant.

ARTHUR gets very annoyed now. ARTHUR lets go of FORD and backs up.

ARTHUR
Ford, what the hell are you talking about? They're knocking down my house.

FORD
You've said that already.

FORD turns back to the bar, apparently studying something distant on the back wall of the bar. ARTHUR can be seen over his shoulder behind him.

FORD
Anyway, it hardly makes any difference at this stage. Let them have their fun.

ARTHUR
FUN?! FUN?!

ARTHUR looks out the window and gestures madly for a moment. Then he screams and runs out the front door of the pub.

ARTHUR
DAMN THEIR FUN!

6.
EXT. PUB

As ARTHUR exits the pub, we can see that it has become noticeably darker, much like a late afternoon or an overcast day. ARTHUR has not noticed. Handheld camera is in front of ARTHUR by a few steps, going backwards, shaky and uncontrolled.

ARTHUR
STOP! YOU VANDALS! YOU HOMEWRECKERS! YOU HALF-CRAZED VISGOTHS! STOP, WILL YOU!?

INT. PUB

FORD, looking back over his shoulder at ARTHUR ranting, finally turns back to the BARTENDER.

FORD
Barman, four packets of peanuts, please.

The BARTENDER gets out four packets of peanuts and hands them to FORD.

BARTENDER
Twenty-eight pence, if you'd be so kind.

FORD puts another five pound note on the table.

FORD
Keep the change.

The action slows, and we see something dark and despairing in FORD's eyes. The sounds of the bar fade out and we see the BARTENDER giving FORD a slightly perplexed look.

NARRATOR
In moments of great stress, every life form that exists gives out a tiny subliminal signal. This signal simply communicates an exact and pathetic sense of how far away that being is from the place it was born. On Earth, it is never possible to be farther than sixteen thousand miles from your birthplace, which isn't very far, but Ford Prefect was under great stress, and he was born six hundred light years away in the near vicinity of Betelgeuse.

The action resumes its normal speed and sound comes rushing back. The BARTENDER suddenly looks very scared and crumples a little. His voice is reduced to a hoarse whisper.

BARTENDER
Are you serious, sir? You think...the world’s about to end?

FORD
Yes.

The pub has fallen silent.

BARTENDER
But...this afternoon...?

FORD suddenly shakes his head and grins flippantly.

FORD
Yes, in less than two minutes, I would estimate.

The BARTENDER looks around, feebly.

BARTENDER
Isn’t there anything we can do about it, then?

FORD puts the peanuts in his satchel.

FORD
No, nothing.

A LOUD MAN in the back of the bar laughs obnoxiously and everyone else in the bar looks nervous. FORD looks down to find the DRUNKARD grabbing his arm.

DRUNKARD
I thought that if the world was going to end, we were supposed to lie down and put a paper bag over our heads or something.

The DRUNKARD brightens a bit, and looks questioningly at the BARTENDER.

DRUNKARD
That’s what they told us in the army.

BARTENDER
Will that help?

FORD
Not a bit. Excuse me, I’ve got to go.

FORD waves as he leaves the bar. Everyone is silent for a moment.

BARTENDER
Last orders, please.

7.
ABOVE A NEARBY CITY

The yellow shape bursts through the clouds, and slows to a stop above the land mass, which turns out to be Great Britain. Down on the planet, people are beginning to notice, glancing out their car windows and venetian blinds.

Two CONSTRUCTION WORKERS are staring at them, in a combination of awe and fear.

CONSTRUCTION WORKER 1
What you reckon that is?

CONSTRUCTION WORKER 2
I dunno. Maybe it’s nothing?

Cut back to the wide shot as 59 more of them appear, bursting through the clouds and filling the skyline entirely.

ARTHUR, who is storming toward his house, has not noticed them.

ARTHUR
You barbarians! I’ll sue the council for every penny it’s got! I’ll have you hung, drawn and quartered! And whipped! And boiled! Until...until...UNTIL YOU’VE HAD ENOUGH!

Behind ARTHUR, FORD can be seen approaching quickly, from the direction of the pub. ARTHUR has not noticed this either.

ARTHUR
And then I will DO IT AGAIN! And when I’ve finished, I will take all the little bits and JUMP on them!

ARTHUR is getting closer to MR. PROSSER, who is in the bulldozer himself. His back is covered in mud, but his attention is on the sky.

ARTHUR
And I will CARRY ON jumping on them, until I get BLISTERS! Or until I can think of anything EVEN MORE UNPLEASANT to do to th—

ARTHUR trips, falls down. Angrier than ever, he rolls over, and as he is looking at the sky, his anger turns to confusion. His arm raises and points in the air.

ARTHUR
What the hell’s that?

NEARBY CITY

The shapes HOWL LOUDLY as they approach, however slow it might seem. The HOWL fills the world, everything else drowned out by the ships approaching.

People are really noticing now. A JOGGER accidentally jogs right into a building. Cars crash together. A MAN WITH COFFEE, peering between his venetian blinds, has them suddenly snap shut on his nose. He quickly opens his door and steps outside. There is a brief montage of people watching near various landmarks –- people inside the Statue of Liberty’s crown, near the Washington Monument, the Space Needle. People stand in front of the Taj Mahal, the pyramids of Egypt, Kyoto Tower in Japan.

As the camera shows these, we cut from wide shots to close ups of the people watching, getting less and less of the face until on the last cut only a pair of eyes fill the screen...

...pulling back to reveal the sad eyes of FORD PREFECT, staring up at the sky, watching the machines approaching. Eventually his face is in the frame, and we cut from his sad face to short bits of FORD, in his room, examining the Sens-O-Matic, winking away in the dark.

In between cuts, we start pulling around to the side of Ford’s face...he is wearing earplugs.

Finally we settle on a WIDE SHOT of FORD, still staring up at the sky. Continuing to stare, he opens his satchel, and throws away a copy of a script, then another. As he does this, the NARRATOR chimes in...

NARRATOR
Of all the races in all of the Galaxy who could have come and said a big hello to planet Earth, it just had to have been the Vogons.

LordofKings
02-23-2004, 06:22 PM
droidguy, are you writing this everytime you post or do you already have it written. GOOD STUFF BTW...

droidguy1119
02-23-2004, 06:36 PM
I write it in MS Word, then when I think I have a sizable enough chunk, I post it.

droidguy1119
02-23-2004, 09:37 PM
The world goes completely silent for twenty seconds. Show short clips of the people, still staring in anticipation.


NARRATOR
A sudden silence hit the Earth. If anything, it was worse than the noise. For awhile, nothing happened.

The ships hang in the air.

NARRATOR
The great ships hung, motionless, in the sky, over every nation on Earth. Motionless, huge, heavy, steady in the sky. They were like a blasphemy against nature. Many people went straight into shock as their minds tried to encompass what they were looking at. The ships hung in the sky in much the same way bricks don’t.

The people of the nearby city all blink, almost in unison, still staring.

NARRATOR
And still, nothing happened.

The people stare for a moment more.

NARRATOR
And then...

Then, suddenly a strange AMBIENT HUM rises, and everyone looks around. It is like an open microphone, the sound of air with no sound to take its’ place.

PAN DOWN from the people looking around, down and in through an open car door. The radio’s station number is flickering madly.

Inside people’s houses, their TVs spring to life, the picture flickering but no static coming out.

Stereo LEDs glow as they suddenly are turned on.

Back inside the car with the radio, we see the entire car suddenly begin to hum with energy. All the cars on the street start humming.

Tin cans vibrate silently. Windows rattle subtly without making noise.

Something that sounds like the THX sound plays.

NARRATOR
Before the Earth passed away, it was going to be treated to the very ultimate in sound reproduction, the greatest public address system ever build. But there was no concert, no music, no fanfare, just a simple message.

There is a grunting, audible throughout the entire planet. Everyone is at complete attention. With perfect audio clarity, a voice addresses everyone.

VOICE
People of Earth, your attention please.

More shots of the people, staring at the sky.

VOICE
This is Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz of the Galactic Hyperspace Planning Council. As you will no doubt be aware, the plans for development of the outlying regions of the Galaxy require building of a hyperspatial express route through your system, and regrettably your planet is one of those scheduled for destruction. The process will take slightly less than two of your Earth minutes. Thank you.

The hum vanishes. Panic erupts. The PA comes back on.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ (v/o)
Oh, there’s no point acting all surprised about it. All the planning charts and demolition orders have been on display in your local planning department in Alpha Centauri for fifty of your Earth years. You’ve had plenty of time to lodge any formal complaint, and it’s far too late to start making a fuss about it now.

Inside some sort of laboratory, near the end of VOGON JELTZ’s statement, we see a PANICKED MAN running toward some sort of machine, where he twists and turns dials, and we see him responding, although we do not hear it.

Meanwhile, the bottom of the large ships have opened, revealing a pitch black square. Panic is ensuing again.

PROSTENTIC VOGON JELTZ (v/o)
What do you mean, you’ve never been to Alpha Centauri? For heaven’s sake, mankind, it’s only four bloody light years away. I’m sorry, but if you can’t be bothered to take an interest in local affairs, that’s your own problem. Energize the demolition beams.

The hatchways light up. We see the PANICKED MAN again.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ (v/o)
I don’t know. Apathetic bloody planet, I’ve no sympathy at all.

The screen becomes blindingly white.

NARRATOR
There was a terrible ghastly silence.

Then, with a horrible noise, blindingly dark.

NARRATOR
There was a terrible ghastly noise.

A pause, then:

NARRATOR
There was a terrible ghastly silence.

From the top of the screen, the Vogon ships blast off at top speed off into space.

8.
DAMOGRAN – EARLY MORNING

PANNING QUICKLY across a barren landscape, we reach crystal-clear, almost mercury-like waters. Little can be seen on the land, and little can be seen after except the water. It is peaceful, except for a small, quiet boat.

The boat speeds across the water.

NARRATOR
Damogran. Damogran the hot; Damogran the remote, Damogran, the almost totally unheard of.

The boat passes an island which is so flat to the water, it could not be seen until the boat had almost passed it. There is nothing on it.

NARRATOR
Damogran is an inconveniently arranged planet. It consists of nothing but middling to large desert islands separated by very pretty but annoyingly wide stretches of ocean. It is also the secret home, of the Heart of Gold.

Panning down to the front of the boat, a grinning, suave-seeming, and also two-headed man can be seen piloting the boat.

NARRATOR
This is Zaphod Beeblebrox, President of the Galaxy. He is on his way from the tiny spaceport on Easter Island – a name which is an entirely meaningless coincidence; in Galacticspeke, “easter” means small, flat, and light brown. He is heading to the island where the Heart of Gold is hidden, which by another entirely meaningless coincidence, is named France. One of the side effects of work on the Heart of Gold is entirely meaningless coincidences.

ZAPHOD’s grin falters for just a slight second, in which he looks concerned.

NARRATOR
But it is not in any way coincidence that today, the day of culmination of the project, the great day of unveiling, the day that the Heart of Gold was finally to be introduced to a marveling Galaxy, was also a great day of culmination for Zaphod Beeblebrox.

Cut to:

ZAPHOD grinning suddenly becomes, in a flash, black-and-white, and it moves away from the camera – on a poster that reads “Zaphod for President” in colorful type.

NARRATOR
It was for the sake of this day that Zaphod ran for President in the first place.

ZAPHOD, still grinning, stands on a large platform above hundreds of people. They all snap a picture, and then the ground moves and a new set of people come in. A sign near ZAPHOD changes from reading “Press/Paparazzi” to “Citizens.”

ZAPHOD, instead of acting confident, begins acting suave. We see some of the citizens murmuring.

CITIZEN ONE
Zaphod Beeblebrox? President?

CITIZEN TWO
Not the Zaphod Beeblebrox!

CITIZEN THREE
Not the President!

NARRATOR
Many saw it as clinching proof that the whole of known creation had finally gone bananas.

Cut back to:

ZAPHOD, whose concern turns back into confidence, and he grins again, gunning the boat. It zips across the water, nearly skipping, like a stone.

NARRATOR
Zaphod Beeblebrox, adventurer, ex-hippie, good timer, crook – quite possibly – maniac self-publicist, terribly bad at personal relationships, and often thought, to be completely out to lunch.

We see a newspaper cover, which reads: “ZAPHOD BEEBLEBROX – PRESIDENT OF THE GALAXY?”

Below it, a sub-headline reads: “But is he completely out to lunch?”

A pedestrian walks by and takes the paper out, into the camera, causing it to cut to BLACK.

NARRATOR
But no. Nobody had gone bananas, at least not in that way. Zaphod was ideal Presidency fodder. Only six people in the entire Galaxy understood the principle on which the Galaxy was governed, and they knew that once Zaphod Beeblebrox had announced his intention to run as President, it was more or less a fait accompli.

From BLACK, another ream of intergalactic newspapers fly through the air and hit the ground. The big headline: “ZAPHOD WINS”

NARRATOR
But what they completely failed to understand is why Zaphod was doing it.

droidguy1119
02-24-2004, 01:04 PM
Again, thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this.

More later today.

_manuel_
02-24-2004, 04:49 PM
Very Cool. You're dong a good job of it.

anaria22
02-24-2004, 08:40 PM
Awesome work. I really enjoy reading them.

droidguy1119
02-24-2004, 09:59 PM
:) Then that means my time and effort was worth it.

droidguy1119
02-24-2004, 11:31 PM
ZAPHOD makes a sharp turn in the water, sending a wall of water into the sky, where it glistens like diamonds. ZAPHOD puts two of his hands behind his head, while his third arm steers the boat. One of ZAPHOD’s heads gets a sly look and turns to the other.

ZAPHOD
Hey...you’re a real cool boy, you.

The other head nods, grinning, but ZAPHOD’s smile again falters.

ISLAND OF FRANCE – DAY

A WIDE AERIAL SHOT of the Island of France shows us that it is small and crescent-shaped. In a way, it appears to only to be there for the sake of it forming a bay in the middle. The back of the island slopes off, and we see a large group of people standing in front of the bay, looking like they are anticipating something.

A REPORTER stands near the front, talking into a small camera which reads tri-D on the front of it.

REPORTER
There is a mood of immense excitement thrilling through all of us right now. These engineers, researchers, atomineers, maximegalaticians, octopodic physucturalists and Hoovooloo have gone to and beyond the furthest limits of physical laws, restructured the fundamental fabric of matter, strained, twisted, and broken the laws of possibility and impossibility! And still, all this pales in comparison to the greatest moment of today’s ceremony, which has not yet occurred – the arrival of the President of the Galaxy, Zaphod Beeblebrox!

Cut to:

ALIEN METROPOLIS

A hologram of the REPORTER, in 3-D and at least ten thousand feet tall, can be seen talking to a city, of which every resident seems to be watching. When the REPORTER mentions ZAPHOD’s name, everyone cheers.

Cut back to:

The REPORTER turns toward the bay, peering out. His face lights up.

REPORTER
And...wait...I think I...

Another shot of the metropolis, brought to a grinding halt. Back to the REPORTER, who is still squinting.

REPORTER
Yes, here comes President Beeblebrox now!

The crowd erupts again, this time confetti flying everywhere, and the screen changing to the word ZAPHOD flashing, repeatedly, with pretty colors.

NARRATOR
No matter what amazing, monumental accomplishment had been achieved, the greatest excitement of all still seemed to be to meet a man with an orange sash around his neck.

We cut back to the REPORTER, watching ZAPHOD speed around the bay, doing tricks and generally showing off. The REPORTER grins like he’s won the lottery.

NARRATOR
But it might not have even made much difference to anyone if they’d known how much power the President of the Galaxy really wields – none at all. Only six people in the Galaxy knew that the purpose of the President was not to wield power, but to draw attention away from it.

We see both crowds again, completely taken by ZAPHOD.

NARRATOR
Zaphod Beeblebrox was amazingly good at his job.

ZAPHOD spins the boat in the water again, finally coming to an almost-crash onto the rocks – barely an accident, but it causes the entire crowd to become deathly silent on both planets.

Seconds later, ZAPHOD runs out onto a small dock, grinning like an idiot, and waving at everyone, shaking three hands at whenever he wasn’t waving.

At the end of the dock, a clear globe slides up to ZAPHOD, one containing a red couch. ZAPHOD steps through the bubble, and the couch zips off toward a podium at the top of a small hill.

The bubble zigs and zags through the crowd, making erratic, glitzy movements. The crowd on the alien planet “oohs” and “aahs” at it.

From a shot inside the bubble, we see ZAPHOD, relaxed, and perfectly still despite the globe’s movement.

The globe finally comes to rest in a small pond. A burst of water results in more awe and the bubble being flung into the air. It lands on a small rail and rolls at first quickly, then slows to a stop the moment it reaches the podium. ZAPHOD jumps out.

The frenzy is unbelievable. Finally, ZAPHOD raises a hand after grinning some more and it dies down.

ZAPHOD
Hi.

A spider-like robot approaches ZAPHOD, gesturing with a bundle of papers that are titled “SPEECH #1119”. ZAPHOD pushes it away, and grins at the crowd some more.

ZAPHOD
Hi.

Everyone in the crowd smiles, except for one person. That person is TRILLIAN, also known as TRICIA McMILLAN. She is blonde, attractive, and looks a shade bored.

ZAPHOD looks right at her.

ZAPHOD
Hi, honey.

TRILLIAN smiles, once, quickly, then a moment later seems to loosen up, and smiles more brilliantly, but by this time ZAPHOD is looking at a group of press creatures, including the REPORTER. ZAPHOD grins some more.

ZAPHOD
Hi.

ZAPHOD turns to his other side, and nods at a SCIENTIST CREATURE, who points a device outward and presses a button on it.

Behind ZAPHOD, a large, pristine white dome cracks open like a perfectly split egg, the two halves of which begin to telescope into the ground. The entire crowd gasps.

Underneath the dome is a huge starship, one hundred and fifty meters long, and shaped like a sleek running shoe.

NARRATOR
At the center of this ship, this perfectly white and mind-bogglingly beautiful ship, is a small gold box, containing the most brain-wrenching device ever conceived. A device which makes this starship unique in the history of the Galaxy, a device after which the ship is named. The Heart of Gold.

As the NARRATOR says these words, we fade in, close to the side of the ship, then inside, seeing the circuitry, and then to the box, and then to a simply glowing gold light.

From the light, we fade out to ZAPHOD, looking at the ship. ZAPHOD turns back to the crowd.

ZAPHOD
Wow.

ZAPHOD turns to the press, who are looking uncertain and a little annoyed at this point. He raises his eyebrows.

ZAPHOD
Wow.

Turning back to the crowd, he glances at TRILLIAN, who is sticking her tongue into her cheek.

ZAPHOD
That is really amazing. That really is truly amazing. In fact, that’s so amazingly amazing, I think I’d like to steal it.

The crowd laughs, the press break out into grins. We see the alien planet laughing raucously at the statement.

We also cut to ZAPHOD’s hand inside his pocket, where he is fingering a device labeled: “Paralyso-Matic Bomb”.

And, at that moment, ZAPHOD lets out a whoop, pulls the bomb out, throws it into the crowd, and runs through, the crowd completely paralyzed.

On the alien planet, there is complete and total chaos.

droidguy1119
02-26-2004, 05:20 PM
Another update should be on the way...

anaria22
02-26-2004, 05:43 PM
Sorry about the delay of my reply. I have been busy and haven't had time enough to read them. So moving on, some comments:
-I think the decision to add the bit about the origin of his name was a good idea. Funny and will prevent people from wondering
-I think it might be a good idea to talk about the irony of the situation. Destroying his home, then destroying the planet and the unattainable information that regarded these topics. (no stairs, beware of the leopard. Love those :))
-Secondly, I'm fairly sure the balding scientist is your addition (oh my lord!), and if so, it was a good one. I laughed very long and very hard at that one.
-the subtitles to define hoopy and other such words are an excellent idea.
-This is slightly sophomoric, but in the beginning when the camera is zooming along, it might be funny if it ran into something. It would back up, then continue to zoom along. It seems like something DNA would do.
-It also might be nice if you mentioned prosser's love of axes and the occasional visions of blood and screaming. I loved those in the book. Perhaps a quick flash or read by the narrator.
-a quick shot of a hitchiker not looking at the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal is an excellent idea.
-one criticism. Was the drunkard in the book? I found him to be slightly annoying, although maybe it would be better in a movie.
-and a question? How long do you suppose this movie would be? Perhaps you'd be better off writing six hour miniseries. ;)

Altogether, excellent, excellent work. It's just as good as reading the books all over. (I'm happy no one can see me as I read these. I'm subject to spontaneous fits of hysterical laughter) I'd love to see more from you!

droidguy1119
02-26-2004, 06:27 PM
Originally posted by anaria22
-I think the decision to add the bit about the origin of his name was a good idea. Funny and will prevent people from wondering

This isn't good, because I'm the one adapting this, but...lol, what are you talking about? Do you mean Ford's name?

Originally posted by anaria22
-Secondly, I'm fairly sure the balding scientist is your addition (oh my lord!), and if so, it was a good one. I laughed very long and very hard at that one.
-the subtitles to define hoopy and other such words are an excellent idea.


Thanks...it was the kind of thing that was a little bit there in the book, at least in terms of the idea that someone was there and just completely distracted, but I turned it into a character.

The subtitles just popped into mind. I knew I wanted to keep the bit, and when I got to it a lightbulb went off.

Originally posted by anaria22
-one criticism. Was the drunkard in the book? I found him to be slightly annoying, although maybe it would be better in a movie.


There is a drunkard in the book. I gave him an extra moment, though, which is that he moans when Arthur drops his beer.

Originally posted by anaria22
-and a question? How long do you suppose this movie would be? Perhaps you'd be better off writing six hour miniseries.

Not quite sure what you mean by this, but two things:
- Movie script rule: One page, one minute. So far this is clocking in at about a half-an-hour (27 pages), but since there's so much narration, I would probably subtract three minutes at this point.
- One hour per book or just this? One hour is not enough room for all the ideas in Douglas Adams' novel. :)

Thanks for your positive response. Again, it really is the entertainment others get from what I write that makes it worth the effort. :)

anaria22
03-01-2004, 09:24 PM
wow...I'm back and there seems to be nothing here! Hmm....hopefully this terrible situation is corrected quickly. *hint...hint...*

droidguy1119
03-01-2004, 09:31 PM
I know, I failed. Been rather busy. I had plans to do some today, but got sidetracked.

Tomorrow...:)

anaria22
03-02-2004, 03:52 PM
well, tomorrow's here. Looking around, and I spot no script....hopefully this terrible situation will be remedied with the greatest haste. *less subtle hint...hint*

droidguy1119
03-02-2004, 03:54 PM
Hey, man, this is my time to do it...I'm working on it. :)

droidguy1119
03-02-2004, 04:28 PM
9.
SPACE

The VOGON SPACESHIP soars off into space.

Inside the ship, on the BRIDGE, someone very ugly was very unhappy.

NARRATOR
PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ was not a pleasant sight, even for other Vogons. His dark green rubbery skin was thick enough for him to play the game of Vogon Civil Service politics, and play it well, and waterproof enough for him to survive indefinitely at sea depths of down to a thousand feet with no ill effects. Not that he ever went swimming, of course.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ stands on the bridge of the ship, looking slightly annoyed.

NARRATOR
But Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz was a fairly typical Vogon in the sense that he was thoroughly and utterly vile. And he did not like hitchhikers.

Cut to:

VOGON SHIP (SUBBASEMENT)

A match flares, lighting up the face of FORD PREFECT. It also lights up a strange, gourd-like creature to FORD’s left, who FORD turns toward.

FORD
Thank you.

The gourd wobbles off. FORD looks nervous for a few more seconds, then jumps and looks down as a moan comes from below frame. The groan belongs to ARTHUR DENT.

A deeply concerned look spreads over FORD’s face.

FORD
Arthur?

ARTHUR groans again, almost pained. FORD immediately shakes out the match, and we can see him, in the darkness, rummaging through his satchel, concernedly. Eventually, he pulls something out, turns around and opens it.

FORD
Arthur!

ARTHUR groans again and opens his eyes a bit.

ARTHUR
What?

FORD
I brought you peanuts.

ARTHUR continues to groan, dropping his head on the floor, then wincing as it hits the metal floor of the Vogon ship.

FORD
Here, have some. If you’ve never been through a matter transference before, you’ve probably lost some salt and protein. The beer should have cushioned your system a bit.

ARTHUR shifts, tries to get up, fails, squints in the darkness some more. He opens one of his eyes, looks around, then shuts it again.

ARTHUR
It’s dark.

FORD
Yes...it’s dark.

ARTHUR
No light. Dark, no light.

FORD begins feeding ARTHUR peanuts.

FORD
You know, one of the things I’ve always found hard to understand about you humans is how you’re always continually stating the obvious, such as, “It’s a nice day,” or “You’re very tall,” or “Oh, dear, you seem to have fallen down a thirty-foot well, are you all right?”

ARTHUR has switched from moaning to grumbling and chewing on the peanuts.

FORD
My first theory for this was that if you don’t continually exercise your lips, your mouths freeze up. Then, a few months later, I thought that maybe if you don’t stop talking, your brains start working, but eventually I decided that was being obstructively cynical. The point is that I eventually decided that I rather liked human beings after all, but up until a few moments ago I was desperately worried about the number of things you don’t know about.

ARTHUR squints, looking a bit annoyed, at FORD.

ARTHUR
What are you blathering about?

FORD
No light.

ARTHUR
Oh, be quiet...

ARTHUR rubs his temples and face, looking awful.

FORD
How do you feel?

ARTHUR
Like a military academy...bits of me keep on passing out.

FORD crumples up the empty packet of peanuts, and stuffs it in his bag, dusting off his hands. ARTHUR manages to sit up and look around, and by now he looks slightly despaired.

ARTHUR
Ford...if I asked you were the hell we were...would I regret it?

FORD slaps ARTHUR on the shoulder reassuringly, and stands.

FORD
We’re safe.

ARTHUR
Oh, good.

ARTHUR manages to stand up as well.

FORD
We’re in a small galley cabin in one of the spaceships on the Vogon Constructor Fleet.

ARTHUR almost falls over again. FORD manages to catch and balance ARTHUR.

ARTHUR
Ah. This is obviously some strange usage of the word “safe” that I wasn’t previously aware of.

ARTHUR wobbles a bit as FORD strikes another match, looking for a lightswitch. ARTHUR begins to fall just as FORD shakes out the match, and FORD turns around and rights ARTHUR again.

As FORD heads over to a wall, ARTHUR looks around. The ship around him hums uncomfortably, and ARTHUR shivers and leans against a wall.

ARTHUR
How did we get here?

FORD
We hitched a lift.

ARTHUR turns in FORD’s direction, incredulous.

ARTHUR
Excuse me?

ARTHUR walks over to where FORD is feeling the wall.

ARTHUR
Are you trying to tell me we just stuck out our thumbs and some green, bug-eyed monster stuck his head out and said, ‘Hi, fellas, hop right in, I can take you as far as the Basingstroke roundabout?’?

Feeling the wall, FORD does not look at ARTHUR while he talks.

FORD
Well, the Thumb’s an electronic, sub-etha signaling device, the roundabout’s at Barnard’s Star six light-years away, but otherwise, that’s more or less right.

ARTHUR
And the bug-eyed monster?

FORD
Is green, yes.

ARTHUR
Fine. When can I go home?

FORD turns around and grins.

FORD
You can’t. Shade your eyes.

FORD flips on the light switch. ARTHUR looks awed.

ARTHUR
Dear God, is this really the inside of a flying saucer?

anaria22
03-03-2004, 07:28 PM
hehe. Nice bit of work there! I especially love the part about stating the obvious. Nice bit of work there! It's quite good. Hope to see more soon.

droidguy1119
03-03-2004, 07:30 PM
It was narrative in the book, but I couldn't let it go to waste. :)

Should be another update tomorrow.

droidguy1119
03-05-2004, 03:31 PM
10.
VOGON CONSTRUCTOR FLEET SHIP BRIDGE

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ stands on the bridge looking unhappy. He watches the stars for a bit, and then moves off to survey the people around the bridge. The NARRATOR talks over this.

NARRATOR
Vogons are very despicable creatures. Very stubborn, too – they likely should not have survived as a race, but they were much too stubborn to die. Evolution, they thought? Who needs it. And so they just sat around and did without what nature refused to do for them until which time as they were able to rectify the gross anatomical inconveniences with plastic surgery.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ walks over to a control panel and angrily starts pressing buttons. On a small view screen, a group of VOGONS appear. They are sitting on beds, looking angry. PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ bellows at them.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
WORK HARDER!

VOGON JETZ turns to the side, looking for something else.

NARRATOR
Thus, with much stubbornness, the plant Vogsphere whiled away an unhappy millennia until the Vogons suddenly discovered the principles of interstellar travel. Within a few short Vog years, they had all relocated to the Megabrantis cluster, the political hub of the Galaxy, and then formed the immensely powerful backbone of the Galactic Civil Service.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ discovers the intercom, and yells into that, which echoes out of speakers everywhere, including the room PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ is standing in.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
WORK FASTER!

NARRATOR
Attempts to acquire learning, style and social graces have been unsuccessful.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ turns around and surveys his bridge. All the VOGONS, looking unhappily at JELTZ, turn back around to their work when he turns to look at them.

One VOGON OPERATOR turns around to a screen he is reading. The article on the screen says, in a big headline: “NEW SPACESHIP DRIVE TO BE UNVEILED TODAY”

The subheadline: Hyperspatial Express Routes Unnecessary

The VOGON OPERATOR, looking unhappy, prints the message, then walks up to PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ.

VOGON OPERATOR
Sir?

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
GO AWAY!

The operator leaves.

NARRATOR
Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz was irritable. He always felt vaguely irritable after demolishing populated planets. He wished someone would come and tell him it was all wrong, so he could shout at them and feel better.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ throws himself in a chair.

NARRATOR
Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz was looking for something to be very angry about. He was most happy when he was very angry.

A door opens and the gourd-like creature comes out. It is almost skipping with glee, and carrying a tray with what is apparently PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ’s lunch.

NARRATOR
Which is why it was lucky for Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz that the Dentrassi delivering his lunch looked pleased with itself. Whenever a Dentrassi looked pleased, there was something going on elsewhere on the ship that Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz knew he could get very, very angry about.

VOGON SHIP (SUBBASEMENT)

ARTHUR sits down on a messy sponge-like alien mattress, and looks around. The quarters FORD and ARTHUR are in are remarkably messy.

ARTHUR
It’s a bit filthy, isn’t it?

FORD
Well, it is a working ship. These are the Dentrassis sleeping quarters.

ARTHUR
I thought you said they were called Vogons or something.

FORD
I did.

ARTHUR looks confused. FORD notices and stops looking around. He sits down on a mattress across from ARTHUR.

FORD
Yes. The Vogons run the ship, the Dentrassis are the cooks. The Dentrassis let us on board. The Dentrassis are Vogon chefs. Very interested in Vogon money – hardest currency in the galaxy – not so interested in Vogons. In fact, they absolutely hate Vogons. So, we –

ARTHUR
-- stuck out that electro-thumb gizmo you have, and hitched a ride.

FORD looks a little surprised.

FORD
Yes, actually.

ARTHUR
Right, well, if that’s the case, I’m still completely confused.

FORD reaches into his satchel and pulls out what looks like a small calculator and throws it at ARTHUR, who leans out of the way. The book drops onto the bed. It beeps. ARTHUR picks it up and opens it.

The small screen reads: “SURFACE ANALYZATION”.

VOICE OF THE BOOK (NARRATOR)
Sqornshellous Zeta Mattress. Grown in the swamps of Sqornhellous Zeta. All mattresses grown there are thoroughly killed and dried before being put to service. Very few have ever come to life again.

ARTHUR stands up.

ARTHUR
What is this thing?

FORD
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. It’s sort of an electronic book. It tells you everything you need to know about anything. That’s it’s job.

ARTHUR shuts the book and looks at the cover. Engraved there are the words ‘Don’t Panic.’

ARTHUR
I like the cover. ‘Don’t Panic.’ It’s the first helpful or intelligible thing anyone’s said to me all day.

FORD
I’ll show you how it works.

FORD walks over and takes the book, opening it back up. FORD presses a bunch of buttons.

FORD
You press this button here, and you get the index. You want to know about Vogons, so I entered that name. And...there we are.

The screen reads: “VOGON CONSTRUCTOR FLEETS”

VOICE OF THE BOOK (NARRATOR)
Vogon Constructor Fleets. Here is what you want to do if you want to get a lift from a Vogon. Forget it. They are one of the most unpleasant races in the Galaxy – not actually evil, but bad-tempered, bureaucratic, officious, and callous. They wouldn’t even lift a finger to save their own grandmothers from the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal without orders signed in triplicate, sent in, sent back, queried, lost, found, subjected to public inquiry, lost again, and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as firelighters. The best way to get a drink out of a Vogon is to stick your finger down his throat, and the best way to irritate him is to feed his grandmother to the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal. On no account allow a Vogon allow to read poetry at you.

ARTHUR blinks. FORD seems to be rearranging the contents of his satchel, still seated on the bed.

ARTHUR
What a strange book. What about the Dentrassis?

FORD
That’s the point, it’s out of date now. I’m doing the field research for a new, revised edition, and one of the things I’ll have to do is include a bit about the Dentrassi cooks.

ARTHUR looks pained. FORD is putting his stuff back into his satchel now.

FORD
Great guys. The best cooks and drink mixers, and they don’t give a wet slap about anything else. And, they’ll always help hitchhikers aboard, partly because they like company, but mostly because it annoys the Vogons.

ARTHUR looks frightened. FORD has closed his satchel and stood up.

ARTHUR
Do we want to annoy the Vogons?

FORD slaps ARTHUR zealously on the back.

FORD
Exactly the sort of thing you need to know if you’re an impoverished hitchhiker trying to see all the marvels of the Universe for less than thirty Altairian dollars a day. Which, I am. Fun, isn’t it?

ARTHUR’s expression is now of complete despair. He jumps as a Dentrassi outfit slides off a bed, and moves to a corner of the room without mattresses.

ARTHUR
But...

FORD
Yes, I know. I got stuck on Earth for rather longer than I intended. I came for a week and stayed for fifteen years.

ARTHUR
Well, how...

FORD
A teaser.

ARTHUR
What’s a...

FORD
Teaser? Teasers are usually rich kids with nothing to do. They cruise around looking for planets that haven’t made interstellar contact and buzz them.

ARTHUR starts to speak. FORD is already going.

FORD
Buzzing is finding some isolated spot with few people around, then land right by some poor unsuspecting soul whom no one’s ever going to believe and then strut up and down in front of him wearing silly antenna on his head and making beep beep noises. Rather childish, really.

FORD grins infuriatingly. ARTHUR backs away from FORD, finally having caught up to the conversation. FORD looks a bit quizzical.

ARTHUR
This can’t be happening!

FORD
Actually, it can, and it is. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed. Meanwhile, it would be best if you stopped worrying about it.

ARTHUR looks around the room again.

ARTHUR
Ford, I don’t know if this sounds like a silly question to you, but what am I doing here!?

FORD
Well, you know that. I rescued you from Earth.

ARTHUR
And what’s happened to the Earth?

FORD
It’s been demolished.

There is a pause.

ARTHUR
Has it?

FORD
Yes, it just boiled away into space.

ARTHUR
Look, I’m a bit upset about that.

FORD
Yes, I can understand that –

ARTHUR
UNDERSTAND THAT!?

FORD jumps back in surprise as ARTHUR explodes.

ARTHUR
UNDERSTAND THAT!?

FORD
Keep looking at the book!

ARTHUR
WHAT?!

FORD
Don’t Panic!

ARTHUR
I’M NOT PANICKING!

FORD
Actually, you are.

ARTHUR looks at FORD with a level of rage and annoyance.

ARTHUR
WELL, SO, FINE THEN! I AM PANICKING! WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO DO!?

FORD
Come with me, have a good time. The Galaxy’s a fun place. You’ll just need to have this fish in your ear.

ARTHUR
I – Ah – Wh – Er – I beg your pardon?!

FORD holds up a small glass jar with a small yellow fish in it. ARTHUR blinks again. Before ARTHUR can respond, though, a frenzied panic in his eyes, a horrible roaring starts echoing through the ship. ARTHUR shrieks and falls backwards, onto a Dentrassi mattress, which causes him to scream again and leap off, this time into FORD.

ARTHUR
What the hell is that?!

FORD
Shh! Listen, it might be important!

ARTHUR
Im...Important?

FORD
It’s the Vogon captain. He’s making an announcement on the intercom.

ARTHUR
You mean, that’s how Vogons talk?

FORD
LISTEN!

ARTHUR
But, FORD! I can’t speak Vogon!

FORD
You don’t need to. Just put this fish in your ear.

With a lightning-fast movement, FORD claps the fish into ARTHUR’s ear. ARTHUR grabs for his ear, but then suddenly stops, and looks around in wonder. CU on ARTHUR’s FACE as he suddenly hears...

syxtfour
03-06-2004, 12:30 AM
-claps- Bravo, man. You're ruining the entire movie for me, lol. Keep at it!

droidguy1119
03-06-2004, 01:36 PM
Thanks for the feedback!

droidguy1119
03-06-2004, 03:37 PM
Cut to:
11.
VOGON CONSTRUCTOR FLEET SHIP BRIDGE

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ sits in the chair, making his howling, gargling announcement.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
Howl howl gargle howl gargle how how howl gargle howl gargle howl howl gargle gargle howl gargle gargle gargle howl slurrp uuuurgh should have a good time. Message repeats. This is your captain speaking, so stop whatever you’re doing and pay attention. First of all, I see from our instruments that we have a couple of hitchhikers aboard. Hello, wherever you are. I just want to make it totally clear that you are not welcome. I worked hard to get where I am today, and I didn’t become a captain of a Vogon constructor ship simply so I could turn it into a taxi service for a load of degenerate freeloaders. I have sent out a search party, and as soon as they find you, I will put you off the ship. If you’re very lucky, I might read you some of my poetry first.

In tbe basement, FORD’s eyes widen. ARTHUR is about to say something, but FORD shushes him.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
Secondly, we are about to jump into hyperspace for the journey to Barnard’s Star. On arrival we will stay in dock for a seventy-two-hour refit, and no one’s to leave the ship during that time. I repeat, all planet leave is canceled. I’ve just had an unhappy love affair, and I don’t see why anyone else should have a good time. Message ends.

FORD slumps a little. ARTHUR leans back, looking a bit pale.

ARTHUR
Charming man. I wish I had a daughter so I could forbid her to marry one.

FORD
You wouldn’t need to. They’ve got as much sex appeal as a road accident.

FORD suddenly sits down and curls himself into a ball on the floor. ARTHUR looks confused.

ARTHUR
Ford, what are you doing?

FORD
Do what I do. I’m preparing for the jump to hyperspace.

ARTHUR stares at FORD for a moment, then, tiredly gets down into a ball as well.

FORD
Be ready. Hyperspace is unpleasantly like being drunk.

ARTHUR
What’s so unpleasant about being drunk?

FORD
You ask a glass of water.

ARTHUR blinks, looks around. Finally, he speaks again.

ARTHUR
What’s this fish doing in my ear?

FORD
It’s translating for you. It’s called a Babel fish. Look it up in the book if you want to.

FORD slides over the Hitchhiker’s Guide. ARTHUR opens it, presses a few buttons, and the little screen on the Guide promptly turns purple and spins around. The BOOK talks calmly.

VOICE OF THE BOOK (NARRATOR)
The Babel Fish is small, yellow, and leechlike, and probably the oddest thing in the Universe. It feeds on brainwave energy from its carrier and those around it, absorbing all unconscious mental frequencies for nourishment, then excretes a telepathic matrix into the speech centers of the carrier. The practical upshot of this is that if you stick a Babel fish in your ear, you can instantly understand anything said to you in any language.

The Vogon Constructor Fleet ship soars through the galaxy, ARTHUR screaming.

VOICE OF THE BOOK (NARRATOR)
Now, many think it is bizarrely improbably that something anything this mind-bogglingly useful could have evolved purely by chance. Some thinkers have chosen to see it as final and clinching proof of the nonexistence of God. The argument goes something like this...

There is a man and a larger shape on the Guide screen. They are labeled “Man” and “God.”

GOD
I refuse to prove that I exist. Proof denies faith, and without faith, I am nothing.

MAN
But the Babel fish is a dead giveaway. It could not have evolved by chance. It proves you exist, and therefore, by your own argument, you don’t. QED.

GOD
Oh, dear, I hadn’t thought of that.

The God figure disappears in a puff.

VOICE OF THE BOOK (NARRATOR)
Most leading theologians claim that this argument is a load of dingo kidneys, but that didn’t stop Oolon Colluphid from making a small fortune when he used it as the central theme of his best-selling book, Well, That About Wraps It Up For God. Meanwhile, the Babel fish, by effectively removing all barriers of communication between different races and cultures, has caused more and bloodier wars than anything else in the history of creation.

ARTHUR groans. The room has returned to normal. ARTHUR begins to talk quietly to himself.

ARTHUR
The Earth.

The Earth fades in over ARTHUR.

ARTHUR
It’s gone. No, it can’t be gone.

ARTHUR shuts his eyes.

ARTHUR
My family is gone. My friends are gone. The supermarket –

A flash of a supermarket becoming dust. ARTHUR looks a bit horrified.

ARTHUR
Nelson’s Column is gone. England only exists in my head!

The room warps a little, becomes darker. ARTHUR looks a shade panicked.

ARTHUR
America is gone. Los Angeles is gone. No, I never believed it existed anyway. The dollar is gone.

Flash of the dollar. ARTHUR looks a bit pale now.

ARTHUR
Every Bogart movie –

Flashes of Bogart. ARTHUR looks panicked.

ARTHUR
McDonald’s is gone forever. There is no longer such thing as a McDonald’s hamburger.

The room seriously warps. ARTHUR screams and sits up.

ARTHUR
FORD!

The room’s light returns, the warping effect gone. FORD, standing in a corner humming, turns around.

FORD
Yes?

ARTHUR
If you’re a researcher on that book thing, and you were on Earth, you must have been gathering material on it.

FORD looks around.

FORD
Well...I was able to extend the original entry a bit, yes.

ARTHUR
Let me see it.

ARTHUR stands up and walks over to FORD, taking the book from FORD, who is holding it out to ARTHUR. ARTHUR opens it and starts typing.

ARTHUR
It doesn’t have a bloody entry!

FORD turns around slowly, looking a bit worried.

FORD
Yes it does...down there, see...at the bottom of the screen, above Exccentrica Gallumbits, the triple-breasted whore of Eroticon 6.

ARTHUR stares for a long time, and then turns around to look at FORD.

ARTHUR
...Harmless.

FORD looks around again. ARTHUR takes a step toward FORD, and FORD comes back to ARTHUR.

ARTHUR
HARMLESS?!

ARTHUR takes another step. This time FORD backs up one.

ARTHUR
IS THAT ALL IT HAS TO SAY?! ONE WORD!?

FORD
Well, there are a hundred billion stars in the Galaxy, and only so much space in the book’s microprocessors. And nobody knew much about the Earth, of course...

ARTHUR calms a bit, backing down.

ARTHUR
Well, for God’s sake, I hope you managed to rectify that a little bit.

FORD
Oh, yes, well...I managed to transmit a new entry off to the editor. He’s...had to trim it a bit, but it’s still an improvement.

ARTHUR
What does it say now?

FORD
Um...

FORD looks embarrased.

FORD
...Mostly...harmless.

ARTHUR looks back up at FORD, his eyes again raging.

ARTHUR
MOSTLY harmless!? MOSTLY HARMLESS?! YOU WERE THERE FOR FIFTEEN YEARS AND ALL YOU COULD COME UP WITH WAS MOSTLY HARMLESS?!

FORD
It was edited...

ARTHUR
I DON’T CARE! MY PLANET HAS BEEN DESTROYED AND ALL THAT WILL EVER SHOW OF IT IS TWO LOUSY WORDS?! AND NOT EVEN PARTICULARLY COMPLIMENTARY ONES EITHER!

FORD suddenly glances past ARTHUR. FORD steps forward and grabs ARTHUR’s shoulders.

FORD
What was that sound?

ARTHUR
IT WAS ME SCREAMING!

FORD
No! Shut up! I think we’re in trouble!

ARTHUR
You think we’re in trouble!?

A sharp rap at the door causes ARTHUR to shut up. MARCHING can be heard outside the door. ARTHUR looks a little nervous now. FORD stands up and walks over next to ARTHUR.

ARTHUR
The Dentrassis?

FORD shakes his head.

FORD
No, those are steel-tipped boots.

ARTHUR
Then who is it?

FORD
Well, if we’re lucky, it’s just the Vogons come to throw us into space.

ARTHUR gives FORD a worried look.

ARTHUR
And if we’re unlucky?

FORD looks grim. PULL in on FORD’s face.

FORD
Then the captain might be serious about his threat that he’s going to read us some of his poetry first.

NARRATOR
Vogon poetry is, of course, the third worst in the Universe.

anaria22
03-06-2004, 06:19 PM
Ah yes, the good old vogon poetry. I loved that. The ode to the small green thing under my armpit. Pure genius, right there. Loving these new entries! Excellent work.

droidguy1119
03-07-2004, 12:50 AM
We'll see if I can get in the next update tomorrow. :)

syxtfour
03-07-2004, 01:03 AM
Great stuff, man. A really good adaptation, I'd say.

Mr.Matinee
03-07-2004, 05:18 PM
looking good.....

droidguy1119
03-07-2004, 09:35 PM
Thanks.

Sorry there wasn't an update today, I was working on a different writing.

droidguy1119
03-12-2004, 04:12 PM
I know, I know...update likely this weekend.

anaria22
03-15-2004, 07:54 PM
wow...it sure does seem that the weekend has come...and has gone...

droidguy1119
03-15-2004, 08:27 PM
*hangs head in shame*

droidguy1119
03-19-2004, 12:43 PM
New update coming today, before 2:35.

droidguy1119
03-19-2004, 04:38 PM
Cut to black.

12.
NARRATOR
Vogon poetry is, of course, the third worst in the Universe. Early attempts at Vogon poetry had been a part of their bludgeoning insistence to be accepted as a properly evolved and cultured race, but now the only thing that kept them going was sheer bloody-mindedness.

The second worst poetry in the world is that of the Azgoths of Kria.

Cut to:

A strange, disgusting looking alien, GRUNTHOS, speaking to a crowd of other aliens, who are falling out of chairs, screaming, eyes bulging out. There is no audio except for the NARRATOR.

NARRATOR
During a recitation by their Poet Master Grunthos the Unclean of his poem "Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found In My Armpit One Midsummer Morning," four of his audience died of internal hemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off.

We see a creature, the PRESIDENT OF THE MID-GALACTIC ARTS NOBBLING COUNCIL, leaning under the table, chewing furiously.

NARRATOR
Grunthos was said to have been "disappointed" by his poem's reception, and was going to embark on a reading of his 12-book epic, "My Favorite Bathtime Gurgles," when, in a desperate attempt to save life and civilization, his own intestine jumped up through his neck and throttled his brain.

We see GRUNTHOS, looking shocked, his head shaking. GRUNTHOS falls over.

NARRATOR
Meanwhile, the very worst poetry of all perished allong with its creator, Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex, England, in the destruction of planet Earth.

INT. VOGON POETRY READING ROOM

Cut to:

A HEAD SHOT of PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ. He looks pained, and his mouth is twitching.

A TWO SHOT shows FORD and ARTHUR, being strapped into odd-looking chairs, both apparently confused and dismayed by VOGON JELTZ's current expression.

Return to the HEAD SHOT. After some time, PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ manages to smile.

NARRATOR
Vogons suffer no illusions as to the regard their works are generally held in. To aid this, audience members are strapped into Vogon Poetry Appreciation Chairs, which leaves them completely unable to move their arms or legs. Electrodes around the temples are attached to a battery of equipment -- imagery intensifiers, rhythmic modulators, alliterative residulators and simile dumpers -- all designed to make sure that not a single nuance of the poet's thought is lost.

ARTHUR turns to FORD.

ARTHUR
Ford, is there any way you can tell me what this is going to feel like?

FORD
No.

ARTHUR
I...I...I just really never could get the hang of Thursdays...

The VOGON OFFICERS strapping FORD and ARTHUR down look satisfied, and leave the room. PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ opens up a small box sitting on nearby table and pulls out a book, then clears his throat. FORD turns to ARTHUR.

FORD
You don't have anything on you that would kill me, do you?

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
O, freddled gruntbuggly...

FORD screams silently and spasms wildly in his seat, in horrible pain already. ARTHUR's eyes roll back into his head and he shuts his eyes, shaking his head slowly.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
Thy mircurtations are to me...as plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.

FORD spasms some more, screams, more audibly this time, and his face begins to turn red. ARTHUR is still slowly shaking his head.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
Groop, I implore thee -- my foonting turlingdromes.

FORD grips his seat, his fingernails digging into the metal.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
And hooptitiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles, Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!

FORD
Nnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyuuuuuuurrrrrrrggggggghhhhh!

FORD, his face almost purple now, finally slumps in his chair after a final spasm. ARTHUR continues to shake his head.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
Now, Earthlings, I present you with a simple choice. Either die in the vaccum of space, or tell me...how good my poem was!

FORD looks weak and hopeless. PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ walks around behind a desk, and sits in a large chair, looking perfectly grumpy. He starts to smile again. Before VOGON JELTZ can finish, though, ARTHUR's eyes pop open.

ARTHUR
Actually, I quite liked it.

FORD's eyes widen and he turns to look at ARTHUR in confusion.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
Oh, good...

ARTHUR
Oh, yes. I thought some of the metaphysical imagery was really particularly effective.

FORD stares some more, his mouth moving a little now.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
Yes, do continue...

ARTHUR
Oh, and er, interesting rhythmic devices too...which seemed to...counterpoint the...uh...er...

FORD
...counterpoint the surrealism of the underlying metaphor of the...ah...

ARTHUR
...humanity of the...

FORD
Vogonity.

ARTHUR
Ah, yes, Vogonity, sorry, of the poet's compassionate soul, which contrives through the medium of the verse structure to subliminate this, transcend that, and come to terms with the fundamental dichotomies of the other, and one is left with a profound and vivid insight into...into...uh...

FORD
..whatever the poem was about.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ looks astonished. He looks away for a moment, and FORD whispers to ARTHUR

FORD
Well done.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ turns back around. He looks almost happy, compassionate, his eyes softer.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
So, what you're saying is that I write poetry because underneath my mean, callous, heartless exterior and beneath my blackened Vogon soul is the fact that I really just want to be loved?

FORD laughs nervously.

FORD
Well, sure! I mean, don't we all, deep down?

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ gets to his feet, looks down, then back up. When he comes back up, he has resumed looking thoroughly unpleasant.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
Well, you're wrong. I just write poetry to throw my mean, callous, heartless exterior and blackened Vogon soul into sharp relief. I'm going to throw you off the ship anyway. Guard! Take the prisoners to number three airlock and throw them out.

FORD sputters. ARTHUR looks at him.

ARTHUR
Well, that didn't work, did it?

anaria22
03-26-2004, 02:32 PM
sorry about the delay. I've been...busy. So anyway, good stuff! I love this section of the book, and I think that you've done a good job with it, especially the part about the small green lump. I laughed out loud at that part. So pretty much, darn good work. I wouldn't mind seeing more either, but preferably without the eleven day delay. :)

droidguy1119
03-26-2004, 04:15 PM
Thanks very much...you're my biggest (only) fan!

anaria22
03-26-2004, 09:57 PM
nonsense! I'm sure the others are just....erm....hiding....

droidguy1119
03-28-2004, 06:28 PM
New part coming soon...

anaria22
04-05-2004, 09:05 PM
Good god man! If you intend to write scripts for a living as your profile indicates, one would hope they would be in much sooner. I mean don't you just love the way that coming soon transforms into days later! (I say with sarcasm dripping from my voice) But hey, no hard feelings. Take your time. :)

droidguy1119
04-05-2004, 10:10 PM
I have been busy, thinking about various other things. I think maybe the reason this slipped my mind is because the book isn't in my pocket anymore for some reason.

More of this soon.

anaria22
04-06-2004, 07:36 PM
The book was literally in your pocket? At all times? And I thought I was obsessed. ;)

droidguy1119
04-06-2004, 08:31 PM
Not because I read it that religously, it was because I was adapting it. I take it directly from the pages, essentially, while adding the visual spin and some additional jokes, plus the general task of trying to take a chapter and shorten it without losing anything. The work of a screenwriter.

droidguy1119
04-19-2004, 03:55 PM
Bump.

Something should be coming...I dunno, I may have lost interest in this, the film project not being the direct adaptation I am doing.

stonefaced_1
09-01-2004, 07:39 PM
I just read what you have so far and it is pretty good. I wasn't a huge fan of the book, buy your screenplay is great. You definately can tell you added your own touch to it.

droidguy1119
01-14-2005, 11:54 AM
I am going to keep working on this soon, I just started rereading the books and it gave me renewed interest.

droidguy1119
01-14-2005, 02:13 PM
FORD yells furiously, kicking and screaming as the guard pulls him away.

FORD
You can't throw us into space! We're trying to write a book!

GUARD
RESISTANCE IS USELESS!

FORD and ARTHUR glance in surprise at the guard, who looks very enthusiastic. PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ looks bored, and walks away, and the GUARD turns and takes FORD and ARTHUR out of the room and into another corridor.

In the room, PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ examines the poetry again, rubbing his ugly chin.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
Hmmm...counterpoint the surrealism of the underlying metaphor...

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ grunts, and sets the poetry down.

PROSTETNIC VOGON JELTZ
Death's too good for them.

13. INT. VOGON SPACESHIP HALLWAY

Back in the dark corridor the GUARD is carrying FORD and ARTHUR along, ARTHUR looks up and sees the airlock door at the end of the hallway. Seeing this, he begins to panic.

ARTHUR
Oh, no...Ford, I don't want to die now! I've still got a headache! I don't want to go to heaven with a headache, I'd be all cross and wouldn't enjoy it! This is great! This is really terriffic! Let go of me, you big brute!

FORD
Don't worry, I'll think of something.

GUARD
RESISTANCE IS USELESS!

FORD and ARTHUR stop for another moment.

FORD
Don't say that! How can anyone retain a positive mental attitude when you go around yelling things like that?

ARTHUR
POSITIVE MENTAL ATTITUDE?! My God, you're talking about a positive mental attitude and you haven't even had your planet demolished today! I woke up this morning and I thought I'd have a nice, relaxing day, do a bit of reading, brush the dog, but it's now just after four in the afternoon and I'm already being thrown out of a spaceship six light-years from the smoking remains of a planet I never expected to leave!

The GUARD tightens his grip, and ARTHUR struggles some more. FORD looks exasperated.

FORD
All right! Just stop panicking!

ARTHUR
This isn't panicking! This is just culture shock! You wait until I've settled down and gotten my bearings, then I'll start panicking!

FORD
Arthur, shut up, you're getting hysterical!

GUARD
RESISTANCE IS USELESS!

FORD
And you can shut up as well!

GUARD
RESISTANCE IS USELESS!

FORD grits his teeth in irritation, and forces himself around to yell at the GUARD.

FORD
STOP! You're not accomplishing anything! I mean, do you even enjoy this sort of thing?

The GUARD comes to a complete stop and stares down at FORD, puzzled. ARTHUR looks up.

GUARD
Enjoy? What do you mean?

FORD shrugs.

FORD
What I mean, is does it give you a full, satisfying life? Stomping around, shouting, pushing people out of spaceships..."

The GUARD looks up at the ceiling and his face scrunches into a remarkably unusual expression. His mouth slowly falls open, and he stares back down at FORD

GUARD
Well...the hours are good...

FORD
They'd have to be.

ARTHUR (whispering)
Ford, what are you doing?

FORD looks at ARTHUR with an irritated stare, as if having a perfectly reasonable conversation butted into.

FORD
Just trying to take an interest in the world around me, all right?

FORD turns back to the GUARD.

FORD
So, the hours are pretty good, then?

The GUARD thinks about it.

GUARD
Yeah...but now that you come to mention it, most of the actual minutes are pretty lousy. Except...except some of the shouting I quite like. RESISTANCE IS --

FORD
Yes, yes, you're good at that, I can tell. But if it's mostly lousy...

FORD pauses as the GUARD processes this.

FORD
...then why do you do it? What is it? The girls? The leather? The machismo? Or do you just find coming to terms with the mindless tedium of it all presents and interesting challenge?

ARTHUR looks back and forth between FORD and the GUARD.

GUARD
Er...er...er...I dunno. I think that I just sort of...do it, really. My aunt said that spaceship guard was a good career for a young Vogon -- you know, the uniform, the low-slung stun ray holster, the mindless tedium...

FORD looks brightly at ARTHUR, grinning. ARTHUR looks at him as if he is insane.

FORD
There you are, Arthur. And you think you've got problems.

ARTHUR's face shifts from confusion to anger, and then into irritated confusion.

FORD
Try and understand his problem! Here he is, poor lad, his entire life's work is stamping around, throwing people off spaceships --

GUARD
And shouting.

FORD looks up and pats the GUARD on the arm reasurringly.

FORD
And shouting, sure, and he doesn't even know why he's doing it!

ARTHUR nods sympathetically.

GUARD
Well...now that you put it like that, I suppose...

FORD
Good lad!

GUARD
But all right, then what's the alternative?

FORD
Well...stop doing it, of course! Tell them you're not going to do it any more.

FORD looks at ARTHUR for help, who stares back blankly.

GUARD
Eerrrrrrrrrrrrmmmm...erm, well, that doesn't sound great to me.

FORD looks nervous.

FORD
Now wait a minute, that's just the start, you see, there's more to it than that, you see --

The GUARD renews his grip on FORD and ARTHUR and ARTHUR emits a small squeaking noise. The GUARD, as enthusiastic as ever, marches down the hall with an air of happiness about him.

GUARD
No, I think if it's all the same to you, I'd better get you both shoved in this airlock and then go and get on with some other bits of shouting I've got to do.

FORD
No, no, it's not all the same to me at all. Come on now, but look!

FORD struggles to find words. Arthur moans incomprehensibly.

FORD
But hang on, there's music and art and things to tell you about yet!

GUARD
RESISTANCE IS USELESS! You see, if I keep it up I can eventually get promoted to Senior Shouting Officer, and there aren't usually many vacancies for nonshouting and nonpushing-people-about officers, so I think I'd be best off sticking to what I know.

The GUARD reaches the airlock and it opens with a hiss as the GUARD headbutts a large button on the wall.

GUARD
But thanks for taking an interest. I was really touched. Bye now.

The GUARD throws FORD and ARTHUR into the airlock. ARTHUR crumples against a pile of boxes and FORD leaps to his feet, reaching the door just as it closes.

FORD (muffled shouting)
But listen! There's a whole world you don't know anything about! Here, how about this?

FORD hums the first bar of Beethoven's "Fifth." The GUARD's face brightens and he smiles.

GUARD
No. No, not really. But I'll mention it to my aunt.

The GUARD headbutts the button again and the airlock closes, and the bit of light from the hallway vanishes. There is silence.

FORD
Potentially bright lad, I thought.

ARTHUR
We're trapped now, aren't we?

FORD
Yes, yes, we are.

ARTHUR
Well, didn't you think of anything? I thought you said you were going to think of something. Perhaps you did and I didn't notice.

FORD
Oh, yes, I thought of something. Unfortunately, it rather involved being on the other side of this airtight hatchway.

ARTHUR moans again and rolls around.

ARTHUR
But it was a good idea, was it?

FORD
Oh yes, very neat.

ARTHUR
What was it?

FORD
Well...I hadn't worked out the details yet. Not much point now, is there?

There is another pause. ARTHUR stares at the ceiling of the room they are in. It is a cylindrical chamber about six feet in diameter and ten feet long. ARTHUR glances at FORD.

ARTHUR
So...er...what happens next?

FORD
Oh, well, the hatchway in front of us will open automatically in a few moments and we will shoot out into deep space, I expect, and asphyxiate. If you take a lungful of air with you you can last for up to thirty seconds, of course...

ARTHUR
And then?

FORD
Er, nothing. Just an open-ended possibility.

FORD starts humming. ARTHUR looks pale.

ARTHUR
So this is it. We are going to die.

FORD
Yes. Except...

A look creeps into FORD's face. ARTHUR looks at him intently. FORD suddenly lunges across the chamber, over ARTHUR's shoulder.

FORD
WHAT'S THIS SWITCH?

ARTHUR
WHERE?

FORD
No, just kidding. We are going to die after all.

FORD leans against the same wall as ARTHUR and goes back to humming the same song. ARTHUR sits up, and rests his head on the wall.

ARTHUR
You know, it's at times like this, when I'm trapped in a Vogo airlock with a man from Betelgeuse, and about to die from asphyxiation in deep space, that I really wish I'd listened to what my mother told me when I was young.

FORD looks at ARTHUR.

FORD
Why, what did she tell you?

ARTHUR
I don't know, I wasn't listening.

ARTHUR pauses, and FORD resumes humming. ARTHUR suddenly stands up, looking frustrated.

ARTHUR
This is terrific. Nelson's Column has gone, McDonald's has gone, and all that's left is me and the words "Mostly Harmless." And any second now, that list is just going to contain "Mostly Harmless." It's such a shame. Because yesterday, the planet seemed to be going so damn well.

Just then, a MOTOR WHIRRS and a HISS fills the room, and then it turns into a deafaning sucking as the hatchway opens, and ARTHUR and FORD are spit out into outer space.

anaria22
01-14-2005, 05:38 PM
I'm just glad to see that you're doing this again and will look forward to what you release. This one was, as always, quite hillarious. Brilliant work! :)

droidguy1119
01-14-2005, 05:38 PM
It is a three day weekend, I should adapt some of the really fun stuff during the break.