"Douglas Adams - 2 - The Restaurant at the End of the Universe" - читать интересную книгу автора (Adams Douglas)

"The man Prefect."
"Yes?"
"And Zaphod Beeblebrox."
For an instant Halfrunt's smile flickered.
"Ah yes," he said, "I had been expecting this. It is most regrettable."
"A personal friend?" inquired the Vogon, who had heard the expression
somewhere once and decided to try it out.
"Ah, no," said Halfrunt, "in my profession you know, we do not make
personal friends."
"Ah," grunted the Vogon, "professional detachment."
"No," said Halfrunt cheerfully, "we just don't have the knack."
He paused. His mouth continued to smile, but his eyes frowned slightly.
"But Beeblebrox, you know," he said, "he is one of my most profitable
clients. He had personality problems beyond the dreams of analysts."
He toyed with this thought a little before reluctantly dismissing it.
"Still," he said, "you are ready for your task?"
"Yes."
"Good. Destroy the ship immediately."
"What about Beeblebrox?"
"Well," said Halfrunt brightly, "Zaphod's just this guy, you know?"
He vanished from the screen.
The Vogon Captain pressed a communicator button which connected him with
the remains of his crew.
"Attack," he said.
At that precise moment Zaphod Beeblebrox was in his cabin swearing very
loudly. Two hours ago, he had said that they would go for a quick bite at the
Restaurant at the End of the Universe, whereupon he had had a blazing row with
the ship's computer and stormed off to his cabin shouting that he would work
out the Improbability factors with a pencil.
The Heart of Gold's Improbability Drive made it the most powerful and
unpredictable ship in existence. There was nothing it couldn't do, provided
you knew exactly how improbable it was that the thing you wanted it to do
would ever happen.
He had stolen it when, as President, he was meant to be launching it. He
didn't know exactly why he had stolen it, except that he liked it.
He didn't know why he had become President of the Galaxy, except that it
seemed a fun thing to be.
He did know that there were better reasons than these, but that they were
buried in a dark, locked off section of his two brains. He wished the dark,
locked off section of his two brains would go away because they occasionally
surfaced momentarily and put strange thoughts into the light, fun sections of
his mind and tried to deflect him from what he saw as being the basic business
of his life, which was to have a wonderfully good time.
At the moment he was not having a wonderfully good time. He had run out of
patience and pencils and was feeling very hungry.
"Starpox!" he shouted.
At that same precise moment, Ford Prefect was in mid air. This was not
because of anything wrong with the ship's artificial gravity field, but
because he was leaping down the stair-well which led to the ship's personal
cabins. It was a very high jump to do in one bound and he landed awkwardly,