Asking for Trouble. Again.

"Hey, er, hand me the raprod, Plate Captain."

The little waiter's eyebrows wandered about his forehead in confusion.

"I bet your pardon, sir?" he said.

"The phone, waiter," said Zaphod, grabbing it off him. "Shee, you guys are so unhip it's a wonder your bums don't fall off."

Thank you, Douglas Adams, for sharing your brilliance with the world. Let's hope my mom doesn't slap me tomorrow night when I tell her, "Bring me dinner now, Plate Captain!"