the restaurant at the end of the universe by douglas adams

Its gaze was met by looks of startled bewilderment from Arthur and Trillian, a resigned shrug from Ford Prefect and naked hunger from Zaphod Beeblebrox. May I interest you in parts of my body?” It harrumphed and gurgled a bit, wriggled its hind quarters into a more comfortable position and gazed peacefully at them. “Good evening,” it lowed and sat back heavily on its haunches, “I am the main Dish of the Day. The characters have just reached the title restaurant, are getting silly drunk (as you do right before the end of the universe), and are trying to decide what to eat:Ī large dairy animal approached Zaphod Beelebrox’s table, a large fat meaty quadraped of the bovine type with large watery eyes, small horns and what might have been an ingratiating smile on its lips. I wasn’t even sure how I would write about it, but then Douglas Adams beat me to the punch by about 35 years in The Restaurant at the End of the Universe (the second book in The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy trilogy in five parts, satirical space travel novels). This enrages me so completely that I have trouble expressing my views at all, for fear of it turning into a full out berating rant (which I try not to do so people will still want to talk to me). Preferably there should be nothing that indicates that it was once a breathing creature before it became a meal. Many people have told me they do not want to know anything about where their meat comes from before it gets to their plate. One of the most difficult conversations I’ve repeatedly found myself in is discussing where food comes from, and most often meat. “Or would you like to meet the Dish of the Day?”

“Would you like to see the menu?” he said.

The restaurant at the end of the universe by douglas adams