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

"If you're upset about something ..." said Arthur.
"Vogons!" snapped Ford, "we're under attack!"
Arthur gibbered.
"Well what are you doing? Let's get out of here!"
"Can't. Computer's jammed."
"Jammed?"
"It says all its circuits are occupied. There's no power anywhere in the
ship."
Ford moved away from the computer terminal, wiped a sleeve across his
forehead and slumped back against the wall.
"Nothing we can do," he said. He glared at nothing and bit his lip.
When Arthur had been a boy at school, long before the Earth had been
demolished, he had used to play football. He had not been at all good at it,
and his particular speciality had been scoring own goals in important matches.
Whenever this happened he used to experience a peculiar tingling round the
back of his neck that would slowly creep up across his cheeks and heat his
brow. The image of mud and grass and lots of little jeering boys flinging it
at him suddenly came vividly to his mind at this moment.
A peculiar tingling sensation at the back of his neck was creeping up
across his cheeks and heating his brow.
He started to speak, and stopped.
He started to speak again and stopped again.
Finally he managed to speak.
"Er," he said. He cleared his throat.
"Tell me," he continued, and said it so nervously that the others all
turned to stare at him. He glanced at the approaching yellow blob on the
vision screen.
"Tell me," he said again, "did the computer say what was occupying it? I
just ask out of interest ..."
Their eyes were riveted on him.
"And, er ... well that's it really, just asking."
Zaphod put out a hand and held Arthur by the scruff of the neck.
"What have you done to it, Monkeyman?" he breathed.
"Well," said Arthur, "nothing in fact. It's just that I think a short
while ago it was trying to work out how to ..."
"Yes?"
"Make me some tea."
"That's right guys," the computer sang out suddenly, "just coping with
that problem right now, and wow, it's a biggy. Be with you in a while." It
lapsed back into a silence that was only matched for sheer intensity by the
silence of the three people staring at Arthur Dent.
As if to relieve the tension, the Vogons chose that moment to start
firing.
The ship shook, the ship thundered. Outside, the inch thick force-shield
around it blistered, crackled and spat under the barrage of a dozen 30
Megahurt Definit-Kil Photrazon Cannon, and looked as if it wouldn't be around
for long. Four minutes is how long Ford Prefect gave it."Three minutes and
fifty seconds," he said a short while later.
"Forty-five seconds," he added at the appropriate time. He flicked idly at
some useless switches, then gave Arthur an unfriendly look.