[[FIC]] Ford Prefect Saves the Day

[carriesagun]

Title:- Ford Prefect Saves the Day
Fandom:- Anita Blake/Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy crossover
Rating:- PG
Genre:- Comedy/Humour
Disclaimer:- I don't own Hitchhikers Guide or Anita Blake, or the characters therein. I am not making any money from this, and it is purely for entertainment and fun.

A/N: A little something dreamt up whilst reading the opening chapters of the Hitch-Hikers Guide to the Galaxy, a plot bunny that wouldn't go away. Enjoy!

I couldn't quite imagine what this strange looking young man wanted from me as he sat down in front of my desk with his satchel over his shoulder. He'd told me his name was Ford Prefect on the phone, and I should have known that he was weird from that name alone. “So, Mr Prefect-”
 

“Oh, call me Ford, please,” he said with a self-satisfied grin on his face. He checked his watch and seemed to twitch gently as he saw the time. “But, I must insist that we hurry up.”

 

“Pardon me?” I asked him, and he smiled again. His smile was truly unnerving.

 

“Well, the end of the world is coming,” he said matter-of-factly, still with that smile on his face. I flashed him a smile I usually reserved for mental patients and people of low IQ's.

 

“Of course it is,” I replied, writing a note on the bottom of the file in front of me that said, WEIRDO – DO NOT ADMIT AGAIN.

 

“No, really it is. The Vogon Constructor Fleet is coming, and they are going to... Blow up the Earth,” Ford told me reliably. “But, I have looked through your immense skill base and have decided that you are the human I should save.”

 

“So, the Vulgarns....”

 

“No, Ms Blake, the Vogons.” I raised an eyebrow, becoming more and more annoyed by the moment.

 

“The Vogons, then, they are going to destroy the Earth. Why?”

 

“Because they want to build a Hyperspace Bypass through this part of the solar system.”

 

“Ri-ight, okay. And, when is this going to happen?” I asked skeptically, and he checked his watch.

 

“In about fourteen minutes and thirteen... No, ten seconds,” he concluded, then sat back and began staring at his hands. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes, mentally cursing Bert for allowing such a clearly mentally challenged client in on a Thursday morning. “So, we should go to the pub.”

 

“We should go where?” I asked him in disbelief.

 

“The pub. To intake some alcoholic beverages for the journey. Do you, by any chance, have a towel?” I shook my head and laughed – surely this must be a joke?

“What do you want with a towel?”

 

“Oh, I don't need one. I have one,” he informed me, opening his satchel and rummaging through it before producing a dull, dirty, white rectangle of towel-material and showing it to me. “See? No, a towel is the ultimate accessory for the intergalactic hitch-hiker.” This time I laughed aloud; could this man actually hear himself?

 

“Look, Mr – I mean, Ford. I think it's time you left, don't you?” I asked as gently as I could. I felt sorry for the poor guy – I mean, anyone would have.

 

“Ms Blake, I am telling the truth,” he replied calmly, then checked his watch. “Ten minutes, forty one seconds. You could use a drink!”

 

“No, I could use you getting the hell out of my office!” I snapped irritably, pointing at the door. He shook his head.

 

“But the Earth is going to explode,” he told me again, a look of confusion on his face as he checked his watch. I felt my blood pressure get higher, and tried to resist the urge to reach for my Browning, safely in it's holster under my jacket. “And if the Earth explodes, then, by definition, you will explode.”

 

“And of course you wont explode,” I scoffed, and he produced a long, grey-green object with a flashing light at the end. “What's that?” I asked, holding back jokes about long green vibrators.

 

“This is an electronic thumb. We're going to hitch-hike onto the Vogon ship, and zoom on out of here!” he said, standing up and going to the window. “Ah, they're here.” I rolled my eyes and went to the window, then looked where he was looking. I stared at the objects, hanging in the air like large yellow bricks, but felt I couldn't adequately process such an assault on my senses.

 

“Wha... Urm...”

 

“Yes, they are rather large, aren't they? Would you like a peanut?” he said, but I didn't truly hear him as he rummaged through his satchel to produce a small bag of salted peanuts and begin eating them.

 

“Is that a... A... Space vessel?” I asked, still staring open-mouthed at the snot-green bricks floating in the sky.

 

“Well, yes, obviously. Peanut?” he asked again, and I put my hand out to receive a sprinkling of the salty treats before eating them. “The peanuts will help with the shock.”

“What shock?” I asked, just as he grabbed my arm and withdrew his long grey-green 'electronic thumb' from his bag, pressing a button and zapping us to safety. I wished I hadn't asked...