smoking mary jane makes your brain bleed!!

hahahaha yeah man., that guy kicks fuckin ass!

 

not as much as slartibarfast.

penguins

 

SLARTIBARTFAST!!!!

 

HELL YEAH!! SLARTIBARTFAST IS THE MOTHER FUCKING MAN!!!

MY FRIEND NAMED HIS BONG AFTER HIM!!


THAT ENTIRE BOOK IS THE MOTHER FUCKING BOMBENEST STONERIST MOTHER FUCKER INT HE ENTIRE MOTHER FUCKING WOWRLKKK.1FD21

FUUUUUCK YEAH!!!!!

 

Chapter 22

He was standing with his back to Arthur watching the very last glimmers of light sink into blackness behind the horizon. He was tallish, elderly and dressed in a single long grey robe. When he turned his face was thin and distinguished, careworn but not unkind, the sort of face you would happily bank with. But he didn't turn yet, not even to react to Arthur's yelp of surprise.
Eventually the last rays of the sun had vanished completely, and he turned. His face was still illuminated from somewhere, and when Arthur looked for the source of the light he saw that a few yards away stood a small craft of some kind-a small hovercraft, Arthur guessed. It shed a dim pool of light around it.
The man looked at Arthur, sadly it seemed.
"You choose a cold night to visit our dead planet," he said.
"Who... who are you?" stammered Arthur.
The man looked away. Again a kind of sadness seemed to cross his face.
"My name is not important," he said.
He seemed to have something on his mind. Conversation was clearly something he felt he didn't have to rush at. Arthur felt awkward.
"I... er... you startled me..." he said, lamely.
The man looked round to him again and slightly raised his eyebrows.
"Hmmmm?" he said.
"I said you startled me."
"Do not be alarmed, I will not harm you."
Arthur frowned at him. "But you shot at us! There were missiles..." he said.
The man chuckled slightly.
"An automatic system," he said and gave a small sigh. "Ancient computers ranged in the bowels of the planet tick away the dark millennia, and the ages hang heavy on their dusty data banks. I think they take the occasional pot shot to relieve the monotony."
He looked gravely at Arthur and said, "I'm a great fan of science you know."
"Oh... er, really?" said Arthur, who was beginning to find the man's curious, kindly manner disconcerting.
"Oh, yes," said the old man, and simply stopped talking again.
"Ah," said Arthur, "er..." He had an odd felling of being like a man in the act of adultery who is surprised when the woman's husband wanders into the room, changes his trousers, passes a few idle remarks about the weather and leaves again.
"You seem ill at ease," said the old man with polite concern.
"Er, no... well, yes. Actually you see, we weren't really expecting to find anybody about in fact. I sort of gathered that you were all dead or something..."
"Dead?" said the old man. "Good gracious no, we have but slept."
"Slept?" said Arthur incredulously.
"Yes, through the economic recession you see," said the old man, apparently unconcerned about whether Arthur understood a word he was talking about or not.
"Er, economic recession?"
"Well you see, five million years ago the Galactic economy collapsed, and seeing that custom-made planets are something of a luxury commodity you see..."
He paused and looked at Arthur.
"You know we built planets do you?" he asked solemnly.
"Well yes," said Arthur, "I'd sort of gathered..."
"Fascinating trade," said the old man, and a wistful look came into his eyes, "doing the coastlines was always my favourite. Used to have endless fun doing the little bits in fjords... so anyway," he said trying to find his thread again, "the recession came and we decided it would save us a lot of bother if we just slept through it. So we programmed the computers to revive us when it was all over."
The man stifled a very slight yawn and continued.
"The computers were index linked to the Galactic stock market prices you see, so that we'd all be revived when everybody else had rebuilt the economy enough to afford our rather expensive services."
Arthur, a regular Guardian reader, was deeply shocked at this.
"That's a pretty unpleasant way to behave isn't it?"
"Is it?" asked the old man mildly. "I'm sorry, I'm a bit out of touch."
He pointed down into the crater.
"Is that robot yours?" he said.
"No," came a thin metallic voice from the crater, "I'm mine."
"If you'd call it a robot," muttered Arthur. "It's more a sort of electronic sulking machine."
"Bring it," said the old man. Arthur was quite surprised to hear a note of decision suddenly present in the old man's voice. He called to Marvin who crawled up the slope making a big show of being lame, which he wasn't.
"On second thoughts," said the old man, "leave it here. You must come with me. Great things are afoot." He turned towards his craft which, though no apparent signal had been given, now drifted quietly towards them through the dark.
Arthur looked down at Marvin, who now made an equally big show of turning round laboriously and trudging off down into the crater again muttering sour nothings to himself.
"Come," called the old man, "come now or you will be late."
"Late?" said Arthur. "What for?"
"What is your name, human?"
"Dent. Arthur Dent," said Arthur.
"Late, as in the late Dentarthurdent," said the old man, sternly. "It's a sort of threat you see." Another wistful look came into his tired old eyes. "I've never been very good at them myself, but I'm told they can be very effective."
Arthur blinked at him.
"What an extraordinary person," he muttered to himself.
"I beg your pardon?" said the old man.
"Oh nothing, I'm sorry," said Arthur in embarrassment. "Alright, where do we go?"
"In my aircar," said the old man motioning Arthur to get into the craft which had settled silently next to them. "We are going deep into the bowels of the planet where even now our race is being revived from its five-million-year slumber. Magrathea awakes."
Arthur shivered involuntarily as he seated himself next to the old man. The strangeness of it, the silent bobbing movement of the craft as it soared into the night sky quite unsettled him.
He looked at the old man, his face illuminated by the dull glow of tiny lights on the instrument panel.
"Excuse me," he said to him, "what is your name by the way?"
"My name?" said the old man, and the same distant sadness came into his face again. He paused. "My name," he said, "... is Slartibartfast."
Arthur practically choked.
"I beg your pardon?" he spluttered.
"Slartibartfast," repeated the old man quietly.
"Slartibartfast?"
The old man looked at him gravely.
"I said it wasn't important," he said.
The aircar sailed through the night.




douglas adams

only the greatest author that ever lived...and stephen king too hes good

 

it sucks so much that douglas adams is dead, and zane makes me think of simon belmont from castlevania.

now there's a frood that really knows where his towel is.

 

SLARTIBARTFAST!!!!!! !!!!!!


I NAMED MY BONG SLARTIBARTFAST!!! ITS MEEE!! MEEEE!!! me....yeah..slartibartfast is GREAT!.... although ford and zaphod are really great too...like as a pair..or something..i'm gone..away in the head, away..far...

To Summarize--

SLARTIBARTFAST!!!!!

i named my bong slartibartfast, because i think its clever....because it sounds cool, and is the name of a cool guy.... SLARTIBARTFAST WOOO!!







.sneep.

 

rearrange slartibartfast

fartaslatibst

 

And that means what Norm???? lol

 

damn, what book are we talkin about?

 

(This is my own description)

The most inapropriately named trilogy of all time and the best story ever. Arthur Dent is an earth man that happened to become friends (in the lossest terms possible) with a man named 'Ford Prefect' (which may or may not be a kind of car). It turns out one day (as Arthur is trying to save his house from being destroyed to make way for a new interstate bypass) that Ford is an alien and he's trying to get himself and Arthur off the planet before it's destroyed. Ironically (and sadly for Arthur and Ford) the only way off the planet is to stow away on the very alien ship that's going to destroy earth to make way for an interstellar bypass (damn Vogons). They make their way onto the ship only to be caught soon after and forced into listening to the torturous poetry of the captain of the Vogon ship they're on. After failing to placate the odiforous Vogon they were promptly thrown off the ship and, in one of the most improbable circumstances ever, picked up by another ship piloted by Zaphod Beeblebrox and the only other surviving earthling; Tricia Mcmillan (known as 'Trillian'). The story progresses from there (oh, I must also mention the paranoid android called 'Marvin' the robot, basically he's constantly depressed.) Go read the damn thing now, you can get all five books of the series in hardcover form.

 

DONT PANIC!

 

What the hell is going on in here?! So many purdy colors...

 

i know huh

 

My friends brothers band is named arthur dent

 

Dean Koontz, Ben Afleck was the bomb in Phantoms lol

 

this is like one massive orgy of stoner ADD


i love it

 

Uh, yeah...