Okay, so Gag (my analyst, you know) insisted I write some sort of diary to help me with the therapy or to get in touch with my Inner Really Great Guy or something. I guess I´ll make the most of it and use it as some sort of agenda, too. Three heads are even better than two, right? Okay, here goes …

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Dear Zaphod! (You don´t honestly expect me to write to somebody else or to start with “Dear Diary”, right?)

You are one hoopy frood. I just thought I should tell you. Again. Hey, I think I´m getting the hang of this diary thing! That calls for a drink! Or two … Well, make that four while you´re at it … On second thought, let´s have the whole bottle! Or two …

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… heyy, I can hardly feel my leggs … only one arm worksdfg … must have been the olives …

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Better now.

Dear Zaphod,

In the last entry you forgot to write to “Dear Zaphod!”. Might as well lose it then. Yeah, that´s a hoopy, space-and-time saving idea. You´re one hell of a guy. I´d love to be like you. Hey, I just remembered –I am you! Lucky me.

With frank admiration,

Zaphod

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Great-grandma called. Talk about an earful! All because I´ve kinda forgotten great-granddad´s funeral. So what? It´s not like he´ll come to mine! Nagging old geezer, used to annoy the hell out of me … Still, he had some nifty tricks up his sleeve. Well, I´m sure he´s happy wherever he is now. At least I´m happy wherever he is now, HAHA!

To Do: Send over some flowers and a card first thing after lunch. Or tomorrow. The day after tomorrow on the outside.

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To Do: Call Trillian.

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To Do: Call Trillian.

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To Do: Call Trillian.

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Trillian called. Seemed kinda mad because apparently I haven´t been in touch for some time now. Must miss me terribly. Hey, I can relate to that! When I´m longer than five minutes in a room without mirrors, I miss myself!

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Popped by at Trillian´s apartment. Got laid. Flat on my back, that is. I´ve forgotten that she´s taken up lessons in Brockian Ultra Karate. Can she seriously be mad at a great guy like me?

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Memo: Make it up to Trillian. Taking her on a little trip might work. To Magrathea, for example …

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Mother called. And mother called. Then my favourite mother called. After that, the others. And why did they call? To tell me how proud they are of their only full son? How much they miss me? How they wish there was something they could do to make me feel even better? Oh no, it was all like “Zaphod, you have forgotten Mother´s Day! Again! You never write, you never call, yadda yadda.” Zarquon´s knees! Small wonder I moved out as soon as I could walk. And that bloody robot prototype thinks he´s got problems …

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Hm. I´ve just remembered I´m not supposed to talk about that ultra-confidential project. Better delete the last entry. On the other hand, if they can´t keep their little secret without my help, screw ´em.

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Okay, I just found out that this whole diary idea is just (yet another!) fiendish plot of my analyst to send me even more exaggerated bills! And since those small-minded jerks in Galactic Government Accounting won´t pay fees that exceed 100.000 Altarian Dollars, I´ll stop this here and now. Tomorrow I´m leaving for Damogran anyway. I have a spaceship to steal.

To be continued? Don´t count on it, baby.