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:icononewinged-bumblefish:

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The unsteadiness of the building's flight made him feel sick with fear, and after a short time he took the towel from out of his holdall and did something with it which once again justified its supreme position in the list of useful things to take with you when you hitch-hike around the Galaxy. He put it over his head so he wouldn't have to see what he was doing.

His feet edged along the ground. His outstretched hand edged along the wall.

Finally he came to the corner, and as his hand rounded the corner it encountered something which gave him such a shock that he nearly fell straight off. It was another hand.

The two hands gripped each other.

He desperately wanted to use his other hand to pull the towel back from his eyes, but it was holding the holdall with the olive oil, the retsina and the postcards of Santorini, and he very much didn't want to put it down.

He experienced one of those 'self' moments, one of those moments when you suddenly turn around and look at yourself and think 'Who am I? What am I up to? What have I achieved? Am I doing well?' He whimpered very slightly.

He tried to free his hand, but he couldn't. The other hand was holding his tightly. He had no recourse but to edge onwards towards the corner. He leaned around it and shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the towel. This seemed to provoke a sharp cry of some unfathomable emotion from the owner of the hand.

The towel was whipped from his head and he found his eyes peering into those of Ford Prefect. Beyond him stood Slartibartfast, and beyond them he could clearly see a porchway and a large closed door.

They were both pressed back against the wall, eyes wild with terror as they stared out into the thick blind cloud around them, and tried to resist the lurching and swaying of the building.

"Where the zarking photon have you been?" hissed Ford, panic-stricken.
"Er, well," stuttered Arthur, not really knowing how to sum it all up that briefly. "Here and there. What are you doing here?"

Ford turned his wild eyes on Arthur again.

"They won't let us in without a bottle," he hissed.


- Douglas Adams’ Life, the Universe and Everything, Chapter 22.

I love these two! Pen and watercolours. July 2006.

Comments


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:iconkinglith:
Great job. I am going to check out your gallery too.

--
“Satisfaction is the death of desire.”
:icondragonslayer126:
This scene is a near-perfect metaphor for Arthur's life...the great Arthur Dent, marching off into the unknown with a towel over his face...

I admire your patience with Arthur's bathrobe. Ford's lips make him look a little Babel fish-like. His satchel is sweet. I want to steal his pants. And his shirt. Ford has a sort of "why am I holding hands with a man and why am I not inside getting very drunk?" look on his face...

--
"Let me see your armpits! THAT's cool!" - Juan Diego del Queso
:iconwonderdookie:
Yay for Hitchhiker's Guide fanart! I really Ford's suit. It's perfect for him.

--
The More You Know :star:
:icononewinged-bumblefish:
Thankyou so much for your lovely comment and the fav! :hug: Hehe, yes, I may have gotten a teensy bit carried away with Ford's lips - his expression was so fun to draw! I'm glad to hear you think the clothes were a success, too!
:icononewinged-bumblefish:
Thankyou so much! For a minute there I was worried it might be a bit much, but only for a minute. :D
:iconwonderdookie:
It's never too much. Especially where Ford is concerned.

--
The More You Know :star:
:icontate-macmillan:
Ah I love the shading/shadowing work you made them have shape! (as in 3d shape) esp Ford (which is more to do with the angle of his body than anything else). Nice and tidy too :)

Great work.
-Tate

--
Be original and leave a comment on my art: [link]
:icononewinged-bumblefish:
EEEEEEEEEEeee why thank you so muchly! I really appreciate the feedback! :dance:

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September 23, 2006
95.4 KB
736×511

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