“Hey, Marvin, is that you?” said Zaphod into the phone, “How you doing, kid?”
There was a long pause before a thin low voice came up the line.
“I think you ought to know I’m feeling very depressed,” it said.
Zaphod cupped his hands over the phone.
“It’s Marvin,” he said.
“Hey, Marvin,” he said into the phone again, “we’re having a great time. Food, wine, a little personal abuse and the Universe going foom. Where can we find you?”
Again the pause.
“You don’t have to pretend to be interested in me you know,” said Marvin at last, “I know perfectly well I’m only a menial robot.”
“OK, OK,” said Zaphod, “but where are you?”
“‘Reverse primary thrust, Marvin,’ that’s what they say to me, ‘open airlock number three, Marvin. Marvin, can you pick up that piece of paper?’ Can I pick up that piece of paper! Here I am, brain the size of a planet and they ask me to…”
“Yeah, yeah,” sympathized Zaphod hardly at all.
“But I’m quite used to being humiliated,” droned Marvin, “I can even go and stick my head in a bucket of water if you like. Would you like me to go and stick my head in a bucket of water? I’ve got one ready. Wait a minute.”
“Er, hey, Marvin…” interrupted Zaphod, but it was too late. Sad little clunks and gurgles came up the line.
“What’s he saying?” asked Trillian.
“Nothing,” said Zaphod, “he just phoned up to wash his head at us.”
“There,” said Marvin, coming back on the line and bubbling a bit, “I hope that gave satisfaction…”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Zaphod, “now will you please tell us where you are?”
“I’m in the car park,” said Marvin.