Disclaimer: Everything that you recognize as Douglas Adam's work is his. Everything that you don't is mine. Simple enough?

Deja Vu, Dent!

Arthur Dent was having a very bad day. He had woken up late in the morning with his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth and his eyes crusted over. Not seeing straight, he flipped right out of bed and landed face first in the pile of dirty laundry he had promised himself he would do a week ago, reassured himself that he would remember yesterday but had just not gotten around to it yet. Dent wished he had, the laundry had had a week to ferment in the moist, miserable weather that was so charecteristic to England. Standing up surprisingly fast considering he had woken up a mere minute before, Arthur stumbled wearily to the shower, forgetting in his stupor that the cold water came from twisting the hot water tap.

Correcting his mistake after a few choice words to say to the errant shower, he stood in the steam, and in the mirror he could see a glint of yellow through the fog. The thought wandered through his mind to connect with something, found itself bitterly alone and ended up commiting suicide from the sheer emptiness of Arthur's mind.

Maybe everything will be better after a nice cup of tea, he thought as he dried himself off with his bathrobe and put on his towel, wrapping his bathrobe around is neck, wondering muzzily why his towel suddenly had sleeves hanging off the front. As he turned to exit the bathroom, he chanced a look through the window and saw yellow again. Funny, he thought, I don't remember planting any flowers this year. Shrugging, he walked down the hall to the kitchen, where he fumbled around in his cupboard for the box of tea he always kept there.

Construction workers outside were startled by the exclamation that erupted from the house's one enraged occupant.

"I don't bloody believe it! No bloody tea!"

He half walked, half dragged himself to the door when he heard the knocking, staring in blank incomprehension as Mr. Cheeseworth, a collegue of Mr. Prosser and, although he didn't know it, the direct male line descendant of the first teacher in the world, explained that Arthur was to have his house knocked down.

Blinking, Arthur asked, "Again?"

Mr. Cheeseworth resisted the urge to rap Arthur's knuckle with a ruler, instead explaining that it was indeed the first time Arthur was to have his house demolished. Just then, with a frightening feeling of deja vu, Arthur saw Ford coming up the drive.

"Damn," he swore, "I could never get the hang of Thursdays.