With no new bodies turning up at night, Arthur hoped today would have potential for being a good day. Maybe he'd take another shot at getting the Nutrimatic drink dispensers to produce a decent cup of tea. However, as he passed through a corridor opening, a terrible-looking Vogon with the sex appeal of a road accident lumbered towards him.
All the doors on the Heart of Gold are equipped with Sirius Corporation Genuine Personality programs, giving them a cheerful and sunny disposition. It is their pleasure to open for you, and their satisfaction to close again with the knowledge of a job well done. Unfortunately, this meant that when Arthur desperately scrambled for a way to escape the Vogon, the door behind him was too occupied closing with a self-satisfied sigh to notice. "Hummmmmmmyummmmmmmah!" said the door as it closed in Arthur's face.
"Good morning", the Vogon said to Arthur and ambled peacefully up to him. "Did you enjoy my poetry?"
Arthur had an odd feeling 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.
"Er, good morning to you too, sir", Arthur stuttered and hurried down the corridor.
Just as Arthur thought he was safe, the doors in front of him slammed shut. "Wait a minute!", the alien exclaimed, "You DID enjoy my poetry last night, didn't you?"
"This must be Thursday," said Arthur thought to himself, "I never could get the hang of Thursdays."
Mustering the courage to face his accuser, whilst simultaneously wondering what exactly he was being accused of, Arthur turned around slowly.
"I don't know what you're talking about. As far as I know, anyone exposed to Vogon poetry would instantly repress the memory, to preserve their sanity. What are you doing on this ship, anyway?", Arthur replied, as defiantly as he could manage.
"I'm asking the questions here", the Vogon snorted. "The fact of the matter is that you were busy enjoying my poetry last night, which means you can't have been sneaking around murdering your crewmates."
"Right, so that's good, isn't it?", Arthur replied.
"Not at all! The absence of any deaths is in fact irrefutable proof that your poetry-induced bedazzlement was the only thing stopping you from killing someone!"
Arthur was trying to decide if the world had gone mad. The situation was so absurd that his conscious mind didn't know how to react. Meanwhile his unconscious was desperately trying to get in control and panic.
"I see you have nothing to say in your defense!", the Vogon continued triumphantly. "And nobody else is objecting either, so you must be Trillian's accomplice!"
"But there's nobody else here", Arthur objected.
The Vogon didn't listen though. He unceremoniously shoved Arthur into the nearest airlock and pressed the depressurization button.
"The gods must truly hate me," Arthur thought to himself. He hoped and prayed that there wasn't an afterlife with angry gods out to get him. Then he realized there was a contradiction involved here and merely hoped that there wasn't an afterlife with angry gods out to get him.
"You know," said Arthur, as the air was slowly pumped out of the airlock, "it's at times like this, when I'm trapped in an airlock by an irrational Vogon, and about to die of asphyxiation in deep space that I really wish I'd listened to what my mother told me when I was young."
"Why, what did she tell you?", the Vogon asked.
"I don't know, I didn't listen."
Uberfish was lynched. He was Arthur Dent, Last Survivor of the Human Race (almost).
He had the following ability: Order tea.
Uberfish wins with the good guys.
Final vote tally
Uberfish (4) - Gaspar, Lewwyn, PocketBeetle, Zakalwe
Gaspar (1) - Uberfish
PocketBeetle (1) - Mattimeo
Vote history:
It is now night. Night 3 ends at 2100 GMT, Saturday 4th May. Night actions must be submitted by PM to me by then.
All the doors on the Heart of Gold are equipped with Sirius Corporation Genuine Personality programs, giving them a cheerful and sunny disposition. It is their pleasure to open for you, and their satisfaction to close again with the knowledge of a job well done. Unfortunately, this meant that when Arthur desperately scrambled for a way to escape the Vogon, the door behind him was too occupied closing with a self-satisfied sigh to notice. "Hummmmmmmyummmmmmmah!" said the door as it closed in Arthur's face.
"Good morning", the Vogon said to Arthur and ambled peacefully up to him. "Did you enjoy my poetry?"
Arthur had an odd feeling 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.
"Er, good morning to you too, sir", Arthur stuttered and hurried down the corridor.
Just as Arthur thought he was safe, the doors in front of him slammed shut. "Wait a minute!", the alien exclaimed, "You DID enjoy my poetry last night, didn't you?"
"This must be Thursday," said Arthur thought to himself, "I never could get the hang of Thursdays."
Mustering the courage to face his accuser, whilst simultaneously wondering what exactly he was being accused of, Arthur turned around slowly.
"I don't know what you're talking about. As far as I know, anyone exposed to Vogon poetry would instantly repress the memory, to preserve their sanity. What are you doing on this ship, anyway?", Arthur replied, as defiantly as he could manage.
"I'm asking the questions here", the Vogon snorted. "The fact of the matter is that you were busy enjoying my poetry last night, which means you can't have been sneaking around murdering your crewmates."
"Right, so that's good, isn't it?", Arthur replied.
"Not at all! The absence of any deaths is in fact irrefutable proof that your poetry-induced bedazzlement was the only thing stopping you from killing someone!"
Arthur was trying to decide if the world had gone mad. The situation was so absurd that his conscious mind didn't know how to react. Meanwhile his unconscious was desperately trying to get in control and panic.
"I see you have nothing to say in your defense!", the Vogon continued triumphantly. "And nobody else is objecting either, so you must be Trillian's accomplice!"
"But there's nobody else here", Arthur objected.
The Vogon didn't listen though. He unceremoniously shoved Arthur into the nearest airlock and pressed the depressurization button.
"The gods must truly hate me," Arthur thought to himself. He hoped and prayed that there wasn't an afterlife with angry gods out to get him. Then he realized there was a contradiction involved here and merely hoped that there wasn't an afterlife with angry gods out to get him.
"You know," said Arthur, as the air was slowly pumped out of the airlock, "it's at times like this, when I'm trapped in an airlock by an irrational Vogon, and about to die of asphyxiation in deep space that I really wish I'd listened to what my mother told me when I was young."
"Why, what did she tell you?", the Vogon asked.
"I don't know, I didn't listen."
Uberfish was lynched. He was Arthur Dent, Last Survivor of the Human Race (almost).
He had the following ability: Order tea.
Uberfish wins with the good guys.
Final vote tally
Uberfish (4) - Gaspar, Lewwyn, PocketBeetle, Zakalwe
Gaspar (1) - Uberfish
PocketBeetle (1) - Mattimeo
Vote history:
It is now night. Night 3 ends at 2100 GMT, Saturday 4th May. Night actions must be submitted by PM to me by then.
I have to run.