[ well, that's it. that's all she wrote. he's gone and exploded, and there won't be anything left of earth in the whole universe. it's tragic, really. he wishes he'd had more time with his daughter, even of she was a little bit, well, terrible. maybe a chance to say goodbye to ford, or trillian, or even (though he wouldn't have appreciated it) marvin. but no, it's all too late. it had been a good life, odd but good, and now it's done. ]
[ it's funny, he always thought death would be a lot quieter. ]
[ and a lot less nauseating. ]
[ and less... blue. ]
[ on the floor of the tranquility medbay, arthur dent opens his eyes. well, there's no doubt about it. it must have been a thursday. ]
[ with the weariness and resignation of a man who has long since grown used to waking up unexpectedly aboard impossible spaceships, arthur gets to his feet. looks down at himself. looks around. ]
arthur dent | the hitch-hiker's guide to the galaxy
[ it's funny, he always thought death would be a lot quieter. ]
[ and a lot less nauseating. ]
[ and less... blue. ]
[ on the floor of the tranquility medbay, arthur dent opens his eyes. well, there's no doubt about it. it must have been a thursday. ]
[ with the weariness and resignation of a man who has long since grown used to waking up unexpectedly aboard impossible spaceships, arthur gets to his feet. looks down at himself. looks around. ]
Sorry, does anybody happen to have a towel?