(Won an Honorable Mention for Round 17!)

Marvin the Android was innocently occupied in analysing the millions of molecules comprising a piece of lint which had caught itself under his armpit (Hang on- 'armpit'? I hear you ask? Well, of course everyone knows androids don't have navels, by definition) when a large sack was placed over his head. Before he could say 'help' sixteen million times in over 1001 languages, he was scooped up without so much as a by-your-leave and hustled out of the room.

Unfortunately, although Marvin had a brain the size of a planet - as he was often fond of reminding people - he wasn't very athletic. His small chubby figure and large round head were not designed for acrobatics, especially when he was being carried upside down in a sack. By the time he had worked out how to convert an ancient Chinese kung-fu move into a method of escape, it was too late, he was inside a blue police box being whirred off into space. And what were the chances of that? 314,159,265,359 to 1, to be precise. It was evident to Marvin that, against his advice, Zaphod Beeblebrox was using the Improbability Drive again.

"Hurry up!"urged a male voice. "We have to get back before the clock prototype is destroyed."

"This guy is going to stop the Nuns of Future Past?" asked a second person, sounding doubtful. The Nuns were a pretty fearsome bunch when they were wound up.

"Well, no," admitted the first voice. "No-one could do that, but he's supposed to be a brainy little chap. Once he's had a look at the prototype, he'll be able to memorise the details and construct the glass clock for us. Then we'll be the ones running the show instead of the Monks of History, or the Nuns of Future Past, for that matter."

Marvin was fuming. Not many things had the power to drag him out of his depression at the total pointlessness of life, the universe and everything, but being called a 'brainy little chap' was evidently one of them. He toyed for a microsecond with the rather pleasing idea of causing the entire time machine to self-destruct with everyone in it, but then he had a better idea.

There was a small jolt as the police box landed somewhere.

Meekly, Marvin allowed himself to be carried out of the time machine, down a long passage, and eventually placed right-side up. The sack was removed, and Marvin was able to get a good look at his captors, who were grimacing horribly.

"Welcome to Discworld. I'm Famine," said the thin one.

"And I'm Pestilence," said the second, who was covered in red spots. "We want you to construct that clock - in glass." He gestured to a design prototype which was sitting on a large wooden desk inside an iron cage. "Once we have the clock, we'll be the ones in charge of Time. We're sick of Death always taking control. No sooner do we get a good plague or a famine going, when he steps in and kills everyone off - ruins the whole thing!"

Marvin glanced briefly at the prototype. "Alright," he said. "I've got it. Now what?"

Famine and Pestilence exchanged glances. "Are you sure?" asked Famine.

Marvin sighed. "Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and still no-one listens to me. I think you ought to know I'm feeling very depressed."

"No, no, I'm sure you're right," Famine hastened to reassure him. "There's an empty workshop next door that we can borrow to build the clock. Er... how long will it take?"

"If everything goes smoothly - which it almost never does - about two minutes," said Marvin.

Two minutes and ten seconds later, Famine and Pestilence held a glass clock between them, marvelling at the intricate construction.

The sound of footsteps outside in the corridor woke them from their trance.

"Time to go," said Famine, swooping up Marvin under one arm and the clock under the other. "Let's get out of here."

A few minutes later and they were safely back inside the blue police box.

"How does it work?" asked Pestilence, taking the stolen clock from Famine and turning it around in his hands.

"You wind it up, and off it goes," replied Marvin. Eagerly, Pestilence reached for the small key at the back and wound it, clockwise.

"But I wouldn't use it if I were you," added Marvin, a fraction of a second too late.

"Why not?" asked Famine, dismissively.

Famine, Pestilence and the blue police box all disappeared in a bright flash.

Marvin looked around at a familiar dark room, which he knew was located in the basement of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation.

"Because I've set it to take me back to the one moment in my history where I was nearly happy. When I had a friend." He looked down at the small rat, scurrying across the floor to sniff at his right ankle.

"Hullo, Ralph."