As the insane midgets kept grilling her, DG looked down at the wrecked lumber that used to belong to her house. After exhausting every variant of “I don't know,” her mind started to shut out the questions. Absurdly, the thought popped into her head that she wouldn't be able to return her library book.
Of course, her life had to start looking like Arthur Dent's. Wake up to find the house getting demolished, get sucked up into God-knows-what. She was waiting for her captors to start in with bad poetry.
Looks like all I'm missing is a towel....