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PEEL - The Futurama Message Board    Melllvar's Erotic Friend Fiction    Guy you've never heard of writes something mediocre! « previous next »
Author Topic: Guy you've never heard of writes something mediocre!  (Read 29283 times)
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Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #520 on: 07-15-2005 00:01 »
« Last Edit on: 07-15-2005 00:01 »

 
Quote
Originally posted by DrThunder88:
   Is he stupid enough to confuse "to" the preposition/adverb with "too" the adverb?  Zing!  Seriously though, that was the best, non-suspicious small talk ever.

- Nothing trumps an exploding robot except for the left bower.
- The "rumba and rummage" is highly underrated and critically underutilized.  Also you just made it up, which was awesome.
- Just so you know, the minimum jailable offense during a robbery is robbery... *DrThunder explodes*

...what? I get that I made a spelling error, I always do but what was with the rest of that? I'm assuming that was for JBERGES.

And yes Layla, that was the coolest poem.

Yes! It's a ISVCWWDTSTOTPD, (I'm still very confused with what Dr. Thunder said top of the page dance).

DrThunder88

DOOP Secretary
*
« Reply #521 on: 07-15-2005 00:55 »

It was.
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #522 on: 07-15-2005 00:59 »

See, I am smart. Just bad with spelling.
Nerd-o-rama

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #523 on: 07-15-2005 02:06 »

 
Quote
Originally posted by Layls
(You know JBERGES has made some implication that I'm carrying your love child thanks to that froofy dress. The first baby in history to be elctronically transferred.)
John...Layla...that's so weird I can't even come up with a snappy comeback.  Congratulations.
JBERGES

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #524 on: 07-17-2005 13:07 »
« Last Edit on: 07-17-2005 13:07 »


Jubei:  Thanks for stopping by my thread.  No, I have not read you fic but I will give it a look over, though I can’t guarantee I’ll post any suggestions. 

Slack:  Any idea what about the robbery confused you?  you’re a smart chap, if you can think of anything in particular I’d like to know it, it may be beneficial.

Spacedal11 :  Yeah, I think Fry would know ‘fascinating’ if anything because it’s said on Star Trek a lot.  And hell, he knows what ‘symposia’ means.  Thanks for commenting.

Venus:  Venus, Venus, Venus...  did you listen at all when we talked at PEELathon?  I said, “if you ever want to talk fic, just send me an Email.”  If you don’t want to, that’s cool, but then no blowing up Kloudes either!  Hell, you probably could have stalked me assuming my cell number is still saved in your phone, why go straight for murder?!

Kloudes:  Conveniently located?  A 40-45 minute drive isn’t too convenient; I must be sticking with ya for other reasons.      tongue

Layla:  Maybe not now, but some time eventually, I owe you a review poem.  That was fun, I like rhymes!  Congrats on catching both non-Futurama references I was hoping you’d catch.  Also, yes, that was a reference to Seymour. So then... yes, great job reading all around, and thanks for reviewing.   

Gorky:  Yeah, the voice seems to be less like Adams.  I think switching to prose has helped that a lot.  When I was doing scrose, it required a different type of narration, one which lent itself more to that style.  Once I got away from it, I was able to pick and choose where I put my side comments, which brought a bit more individuality to the story.  As always, thanks for a the detailed review

Nerdo:  The word you’re looking for is ‘heteromanlove,’ I believe I used it earlier in the thread.  Right back atcha.  And as for the Layla thing... well... geez... I can’t even claim it made more sense in context.

DrThunder:  “Nothing trumps an exploding robot except for the left bower”   Please explain this so I feel less stupid      frown  Also, don’t open the box.  What is it with people in my thread blowing up other people in my thread?!


In other news, that Futurama remix I posted a little while back is now hosted on TLZ, if anyone didn’t get a chance to listen to it that actually wanted to:

 http://www.futurama-madhouse.com.ar/sounds/index.shtml
(Last clip on the page)


EDIT:  A moment of silence for the lesbian trio, who once majestically roamed this thread, bringing laughter and insight.      wink
Venus

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #525 on: 07-17-2005 17:46 »

 
Quote
Originally posted by JBERGES:



Venus:  Venus, Venus, Venus...  did you listen at all when we talked at PEELathon?  I said, “if you ever want to talk fic, just send me an Email.”  If you don’t want to, that’s cool, but then no blowing up Kloudes either!  Hell, you probably could have stalked me assuming my cell number is still saved in your phone, why go straight for murder?!

 

Fine. I won't blow her up, but at the very least can i throw my mummified cat head at her?

hmm....i don't believe your number is still on my phone which would make stalking rather difficult.
DrThunder88

DOOP Secretary
*
« Reply #526 on: 07-18-2005 01:57 »

Hey, yeah, I was wondering just the other day, "Where did all the lesbians go?"  I don't think I've seen anything from TL in almost a month.  Shaucker's appearances seem few and far between as well.  I blame urban sprawl.  It's forcing lesbians out of their natural habitat: Futurama message boards.*

The "bower" crack is an eastern Midwestern in-joke.  To understand it, you'd have to know how to play a game called "euchre" (yoo'-kur), which is usually only played by those in the Great Lakes region.

* DrThunder knows very little about the environment.  He knows even less about lesbians.
Kloudes

Liquid Emperor
**
« Reply #527 on: 07-18-2005 08:07 »
« Last Edit on: 07-18-2005 08:07 »

 
Quote
Originally posted by JBERGES:

EDIT:  A moment of silence for the lesbian trio, who once majestically roamed this thread, bringing laughter and insight.        wink

Awww... John doesn't have any readers left! Poor baby. *coughlosercough*

Don't worry honey, I'll be your lesbian trio. It's possible, you naysayer!
SpaceCase

Liquid Emperor
**
« Reply #528 on: 07-18-2005 11:06 »

Do you need a gender to be a lesbian?  wink
DrThunder88

DOOP Secretary
*
« Reply #529 on: 07-19-2005 02:16 »

 
Quote
Originally posted by Kloudes:
Don't worry honey, I'll be your lesbian trio. It's possible, you naysayer!

Someone else: Let me guess: she thinks she's a lesbian.
JBERGES: Well, she's trying to.  Trouble is, she's got three personalities, all of them lesbians.
JBERGES

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #530 on: 07-27-2005 20:39 »
« Last Edit on: 07-27-2005 20:39 »

*bump*

I’m still writing!  Who said I wasn’t?!!

DrT: Ah, I know euchre.  It was a play on the word ‘trump;’ I get it now.

Venus:  Funny, your number’s still on my phone’s call list... looks like I’ve been the stalker all along...

Kloudes:  You’re the actress anyway right?  Can you play three lesbians, boingo, shiny, and others MIA?  It’ll be just like any other play rehearsal we’ve had   tongue

Spacecase:  Yes.


So, here we go with part four.  I’ve really been trying to hammer down some sort of style, and I think I’ve finally reached something close to my expectations.  I’ll admit this part isn’t as funny as the rest, there are far less flat out gags, but I’m hoping it flows well, and is a generally enjoyable read anyway.  *hopes*

Also, get ready for some pseudo-scientific jargon

----------

Part 4

“Oh, well then- Hey wait up!”  Shouted Bender, grabbing Fry and heading after Charlie, who was already out the door.  Glad to be escaping the situation, Fry followed closely.

As luck would have it, Leela and Amy were already running towards them, in a manner which suggested that they had reason for running other than cardiovascular fitness.  Two groups running from two distinct problems soon became one group running from an indeterminate entity of badness somewhere behind them.  Escapes like this were nothing atypical; they fell into form as if the ordeal was as well-rehearsed as a fire drill, scampering up into Charlie’s ship instead of their own without as much as a second thought, save Leela, who had a second, but surely not a third.

Chapter 3:

Charles “Bananas” Foster (An unappreciated nickname very few people dare used) had a bit of everyone from the PE crew in him.  He had Leela’s temper, Bender’s lust for crime and/or money, Fry’s reckless yet optimistic attitude, Zoidberg’s ability to repulse, and Amy’s proclivity to finding eccentric employers.  Born on the planet Lagártos Two, Charlie slowly grew to find a balance between a dubious and legitimate lifestyle.  Sure, there were crime sprees and there was money laundering, but there was also clothes laundering, and the occasional delivery for his on again off again employer, Nuzi Spoziano.  Nuzi was a merchant but an inventor at heart, and often bestowed Charlie the benefits of his research, which was the only reason Foster bothered staying around at all.

For instance, Mr. Spoziano had fitted Charlie’s ship with promising experimental landing gear.  The near solid plasma which descends from the bowels of the ship is used to help the vessel ‘stick’ the landing.  Of course, this connection is no more secure than that of two pieces of salami congealed together.  To affix the bond, parts of the landing gear compound are composed of electromagnetically controlled ferrofluid, which, when activated, spreads to the bottom of the gear and magnetically pulls the ship towards any nearby correspondingly charged material in the ground.  An onboard sensor alerts the pilot to any such optimal landing zone, and accordingly, a skilled pilot is able to land the ship at surprisingly steep angles, and even on the ceilings of tunnels or caves in a pinch.  Upon liftoff, just reverse the electric polarity through the ferrofluid and the ship gets a bonus antigrav-lift due to same sign repulsion... just be careful if you’re already on a ceiling…

The door shut behind the PE Crew; the air was dank and uninviting.  A lone light unwillingly lit the cargo-bay that had greeted them.  Leela retained the wry smile of a woman who had just kicked a large man’s ass, while Amy maintained the nervous adrenaline-soaked expression of a non-fighter who had just hit a man with a metal pipe hard enough to create onomatopoeia to her name.

Fry asked the obvious question, “What happened to you two?”

“Let’s just say we won’t be getting our ship fixed here any time soon,” said Leela.  She didn’t even bother to ask what had instigated the boys’ sprint.  Frankly, she just didn’t care.

“Great, so now what do we do?” moaned Bender.

“You could start by introducing yourselves.” resonated an ominous voice in the darkness, the tone of which sent chills down the women’s spines.

“Oh, sorry.” started Fry, oblivious to the foreboding atmosphere.  “Charlie, this is Leela, and this is Amy,” he said, indicating each female.

“Greetings gals!” bellowed Charlie, as if they were all his rowdy friends.  “Sorry if I scared you there.  Some people say I’m a cold-blooded killer… but they don’t know me.  If they knew me they’d realize my species is warm blooded!  Heh-heh!”  He guffawed coarsely, slapping Amy on the back hard enough to perturb her.  “So how ‘bout those sandwiches, Bender?”

“Comin’ right up, buddy.”

Lunches distributed, the group moved to a dining area, where small talk came along arduously.  Feeling Charlie out was like handling a marshmallow coated cactus.  Fry and Bender soon became bored with the blether.

“Say… Leela.  Shouldn’t we get Zoidberg and your fur pile?” asked Bender.

“Hmm, you’re right...” Leela mused, “They’re all alone now.  I wouldn’t want one of them eating the other… though I’m not sure which way that would turn out…”

“Uh… Fry and I‘ll go get ‘em if ya want”

Leela was stuck.  She knew they were just trying to get out of an awkward situation, but at the same time suddenly feared for her pet’s life.  Who knew what Zoidberg’s shell would do to his adorable digestive tract?

“Yeah, go ahead…” she conceded.

“We’ll be right back Charlie.”

“Know the way out?”

“You bet.”

“Touch anything on the way out or in and I’ll kill you?”

“Fair enough.”

Bender grabbed Fry by the hand and pulled him away.  Over time Bender had realized that this was much easier than talking him into things, as easy as doing that was.  He brought Fry down to the cargo bay, opened the hatch via control panel, then made an abrupt right turn.

Fry asked the obvious question, “Bender, this isn’t the right way, where are we going?”

“Storage chamber connected to the cargo bay; saw it on the way in.  This bay is empty, so we’re checking it out.”

“But he’ll kill us!”

“Big deal.  I’m technically not a life-form and you don’t have a life, so we’ve got nothing to lose!”

Fry couldn’t argue with that, which was good, because by the time he would have formed an argument Bender had already overrode the lock on the door.

Meanwhile, the captains conversed as best they could.  Amy wasn’t saying much, if anything at all.

“So, you do deliveries for a living?” asked Leela.

“I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Oh… well then what do you-”

“How about we don’t talk about it, alright?!” came a curt and vociferous reply. He instantly calmed.  “But you, you do the delivery thing?”

“Yeah, I suppose you could call it that.  I prefer the term ‘Captain,’ or even ‘Remedial educationalist’ to describe my job, though.”

“What are you delivering now?”

Leela sighed.  “Boxes,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“Empty boxes and crates, that’s it,” said Leela.  “The Disorganized People of Disorgatron ordered a ship-full.  If they like them, they’ll eventually order some more.”

“But,” Amy interrupted, “But I thought we were delivering to three different planets, weren’t we?”

“They’re very disorganized.”

“Oh.”

“Sounds like a wild good time,” scoffed Charlie, pulling apart two pieces of salami which had congealed together, then stuffing them both into his mouth. “I have some crazy things with me right now; craziest things so I'm told… haven’t the damnedest what they do, but this guy I know said they’re pretty interesting.  Don’t know if I buy it, though.  I’m bringing them from one scientist to another for testing, or some crap like that... probably steal ‘em if I wasn’t afraid of blowing myself up with one of them.”

“You’re carrying them and you don’t even know if they’re harmful?!” Leela reacted, incredulously.

“Hey!” Charlie stood up, casting a looming shadow over the cyclops.  “Why don’t you keep your criticism to yourself, huh?  Whose ship are you on, anyway?” 

Leela was too stunned to even retort. Amy dropped her sandwich, inattentively leaving her mouth in sandwich acceptance mode, then collected both meal and lower jaw in one sheepish fell swoop.  Charlie sat down, but did not break eye-contact with Leela for a pregnant moment, and while Leela had just taken a decidedly sizeable man down with only minimal help from her cohort, something about Charlie told her he’d win in a fight. 

“One looks like a camera, and one looks like a box with a couple red buttons.  I’m getting paid well and legally to bring them somewhere, and I’m not confident enough in their value to risk messing with that. That’s sufficient knowledge for me.” said Charlie, resolutely.

“I’m sorry Charlie,” Leela began, “I just assumed-“

“Don’t assume, Leela. Assuming makes an ass out of you.”

“…you and…”

“and what?”

“Me!” Leela belted, completing the ancient idiom.

“Right, out of you,” said Charlie, in an almost patronizing fashion.

The man smirked in a way which suggested he was just toying with Leela, seeing how far he could provoke her.  If this was what he was up to, he was somehow an expert on her already.  The silence that followed was piercingly braying.

“So… what type of shoes are those?” blurted Amy, mouth not quite full enough to prevent her.

Fry and Bender examined a large case; the only interesting thing in the room.  Fry was clearly nervous now that he had thought about the consequences more, and was eager to get out and do what they had actually said they were going to.

“Alright Bender, just take the case and let’s go”

Bender looked at the bulky case, and then to Fry.

“Heh, you kiddin?  I don’t have that type of volume available!”

Fry turned a dial on the back of Bender’s torso.

“How about now?”

”NOT THAT TYPE, MORON!” roared the din that was once Bender’s non-augmented voice.  Fry quickly turned the dial back; hoping desperately that the room they were in was soundproof.  After several silent seconds had passed, Fry relaxed, tenderly putting his hands to his ears.

“Ow… my cochleae…” he whimpered. And with that, Bender opened the case.  Inside, he found two relatively common looking items; one looked like a camera, and one looked like a simple metal device with several red buttons…

---------

As per usual, please comment or critique if you’ve bothered to read this, I appreciate it greatly. Until next time....

Brevity is the soul of
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #531 on: 07-27-2005 21:17 »

Heh. Nice ending JBERGES. I like how you made Charlie all happy-go-lucky turned snappy. That was a nice scene.

 
Quote
“I’m sorry Charlie,” Leela began, “I just assumed-“

“Don’t assume, Leela. Assuming makes an ass out of you.”

“…you and…”

“and what?”

“Me!” Leela belted, completing the ancient idiom.

“Right, out of you,” said Charlie, in an almost patronizing fashion.


What was Leela about to say?  “…you and…”, just curious.
JBERGES

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #532 on: 07-27-2005 22:14 »

Nothing.  She was indicating to Charlie that there was more to that saying; namely, the words 'and me'
Layla50

Bending Unit
***
« Reply #533 on: 07-27-2005 23:05 »

 
Quote
Originally posted by JBERGES:
*bump*

I’m still writing!  Who said I wasn’t?!!
It was Venus, I heard her! On a less accusatory note, yay! Bergey writing!

I think I'll start with how impressed I am with the character of Charlie, and it's not for reasons of nepotism either. wink He's completely and totally redundant, er, sorry, that was me. Charlie's off-putting in a good way. I have absolutely no idea what he'll do next, and that's wild and fun. I am genuinely worried about the regulars and want to rescue them away from someone who may turn out to be a good guy for all I know. He's scary!  eek It's not easy to invent new characters that interesting, so kudos to you, Bergey, for doing it so seemingly easily.

If this isn't really humour heavy, it is filled to the brim with clever phraseology.

Examples include but are not limited to:

  "Two groups running from two distinct problems soon became one group running from an indeterminate entity of badness somewhere behind them." 

 "scampering up into Charlie’s ship instead of their own without as much as a second thought, save Leela, who had a second, but surely not a third."

"Zoidberg’s ability to repulse" I'll take surprisingly useful super powers for three hundred, Alex.

"Leela retained the wry smile of a woman who had just kicked a large man’s ass, while Amy maintained the nervous adrenaline-soaked expression of a non-fighter who had just hit a man with a metal pipe hard enough to create onomatopoeia to her name."

Well, I won't keep quoting, but you get the idea.

Loved muchly the unappreciated nickname.  wink

The technobabble made my head spin and yet made just enough sense to cause me to nod in an educated fashion saying, "Oh, like sticky magnets... when something bad happens." Clearly you took Futurama's definition of technobabble to heart. But what made it really, fantastically clever was the tie in to Charlie's din-din.

"and the occasional delivery for his on again off again employer, Nuzi Spoziano."

Interesting name there Bergey, dear. Japanese bootblackers meet Italian gangsters.  smile


“Oh, sorry.” started Fry, oblivious to the foreboding atmosphere."

I love Fry so darn much!
 
"Feeling Charlie out was like handling a marshmallow coated cactus."

Most oddly amusing metaphor I've heard in a good while.

“Hmm, you’re right...” Leela mused, “They’re all alone now.  I wouldn’t want one of them eating the other… though I’m not sure which way that would turn out…”

My bet was on Nibbler, then I read about the shell. I love you too, Bergey, in a dorky, adoring platonic, cross cultural kind of way.  love


“Big deal.  I’m technically not a life-form and you don’t have a life, so we’ve got nothing to lose!”

Speaking of clever phrases, there's one!


“Yeah, I suppose you could call it that.  I prefer the term ‘Captain,’ or even ‘Remedial educationalist’ to describe my job, though.”

Heheh! Big laugh at that one.

“You’re carrying them and you don’t even know if they’re harmful?!” Leela reacted, incredulously.

Ooh, ooh! Can I be nitpicky like Gorky? Leela reacted, incredulous might be more grammatically accurate, though I don't tend to question your obvious knowledge in that area. Incredulously would be an adverb, right? So it does sort of say that Leela reacted in a manner that was incredulous, rather than Leela was feeling incredulous, which was maybe your goal. Works both ways I guess, just confused me a bit.

 "Amy dropped her sandwich, inattentively leaving her mouth in sandwich acceptance mode, then collected both meal and lower jaw in one sheepish fell swoop. "

 laff Brilliant description.
Loved the "piercingly braying" silence and the way Charlie turned the tables on Leela, even though it scares me.

The volume confusion was hilarious, and also very Futuramistic, in my opinion, so great job there. Great job all around, John!
Venus

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #534 on: 07-27-2005 23:30 »

What she said!
DrThunder88

DOOP Secretary
*
« Reply #535 on: 07-28-2005 03:01 »

"Bananas Foster"?  Go back to New Orleans, you clever-joke-spewing, gumbo-smoking, something-something!  Gawd, reading these things is just too entertaining.

I happen to agree with Layla about Charlie.  The most interesting characters are not those who are "good" or "evil."  The most interesting characters are those who dwell in the half-light.  It's cliche to have characters who are "rebels" that only operate outside of conformity.  Great characters are those who teeter precariously on the precipice of villainy.  Not to shamelessly plug my own fic, Curse of the One-Eyed Jacks, but Jack Havoc, a character in my fic, Curse of the One Eyed Jacks, was supposed to be one of those characters.  Extrapolating from his introduction and your literary betterness (damn you in a nice way), however, I'd imagine Charlie is going to be awesome.

On the other hand, I don't know if I'm too in favor of introducing Bananas' quasi-legitimate lifestyle in the first paragraph and then having him abruptly cut off questions about it later on.  It could just be me, but the sequence seems to be almost backwards.  If it were me writing, and saints be praised that it's not, I probably would have put paragraphs 1 and 2 immediately after Bananas' abrupt rejoinder aboutthe nature of his business.  Of course, if it were me, the story would have crashed and burned three pages ago, so it's most likely I have no idea what I'm talking about.

*DrThunder adds "gumbo" and "writing" to the list of things he doesn't understand.*
Gorky

Space Pope
****
« Reply #536 on: 07-28-2005 07:36 »

What Venus said about what Layla said!

Oh, wait...that's not very helpful, is it? Hold on a sec...

Okay, here's a real review...

Great writing, Bergey. I'm not sure if I've been able to pinpoint your style exactly, but, if one thing can be said about your prose, it's that it's...uh...exactly like your scripts. Which is good. What I mean to say is that you keep in the great dialogue, and then add all the other, y'know, actual prose, which is basically just a longer form of a stage direction. Which is good, because you've always tended to make your stage directions funny anyway. So, like, um...when you write prose, it's just giving us twice as many jokes, I guess.

Hmmm...I think that makes sense. If you're me. Which you're not. But I'm pretty sure you know me well enough to figure out that that is s'pposed to be a compliment. Not a very well-articulated one, but still a compliment.

Anyway, I'm with everyone else on the whole Charlie thing. I love characters with mysterious pasts, and, as Dr. T said, an ill-defined line between "good" and "evil" always keeps you on your toes, and makes the character much more interesting.

So anyway, great work as always, Bergey. I can't wait to see more of this story.
Kloudes

Liquid Emperor
**
« Reply #537 on: 07-30-2005 11:37 »

I always feel like a terrible girlfriend when I come here and see the 75 pages of review Layla and Gorky do, and all I write is, "It is good."  But, er... Oh, well.

No, it wasn't as funny, but the writing was solid. Charlie reminds me a bit of Han Solo, and I like it.  Excellent, as always.

I have a request that I've been too embarrassed to ask you to your face... you haven't implemented it in ages... Can there be ship? Just a bit??
Gorky

Space Pope
****
« Reply #538 on: 07-30-2005 12:45 »

 
Quote
Originally posted by Kloudes:
I always feel like a terrible girlfriend when I come here and see the 75 pages of review Layla and Gorky do, and all I write is, "It is good."  But, er... Oh, well.

Well, yeah, but, y'know, as the girlfriend, you have other...responsibilities. (Oh God, I'm a terrible person.) 

 
Quote
I have a request that I've been too embarrassed to ask you to your face... you haven't implemented it in ages... Can there be ship? Just a bit??

Seconded. Pwease? You know, just a little something for the ladies. We like that sort of thing. And I think you know by now that begging isn't beneath me. *Threatens to beg*

Venus

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #539 on: 07-30-2005 23:48 »

We demand Ship! And you had better appease us! Cause we're hair pullers! And i have mace!
DrThunder88

DOOP Secretary
*
« Reply #540 on: 07-31-2005 03:12 »

Don't do it, J!  Don't do anything the Code of Ethics for FanFictionists would frown upon.  If said Code doesn't exist, then whatever.  I don't pull hair, but I do have a halberd.
JBERGES

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #541 on: 08-01-2005 06:53 »
« Last Edit on: 08-01-2005 06:53 »

Spacedal11:  Uh… hopefully I answered your question, so thanks for reading is all I can say.

Layla50 Japanese bootblackers?  Ha ha ha… ha… haaaa… ... haaaaaaaa.  [/reference]  Thanks for taking the time to write out a long reply and such; glad you enjoyed the things you indicated you enjoyed. 

Venus: What I said!     …to …her.  Damnit, that didn’t work at all. 

DrT:  No, you’re definitely correct with that gripe about the order of things.  I may redo it in the rewrite, but for now I’ll leave it, if anything because I want the science techno-babble at the beginning of each chapter, and I needed Charlie’s setup to… uh… set up the science stuff.  Havoc pwns Foster.

Gorky:  I have been trying to keep my writing a bit like my script, partially consciously and partially because I’m still used to writing scripts, so any dialogue comes out that way... so it’s good to hear that it’s working.  Thanks for reading and taking the time to reply.

Kloudes:  Your betaing makes up for any shortcomings in review.  I constantly owe you for it. Han Solo is a great charater.  So much more of a loner than that Han Withabunchofpeople.

Shippers/Antishippers:  I believe I said it before, and I’ll repeat:  This story will have at least one (but most likely only one) shippy scene.  I have it all worked out already, but it’s not coming up for a while.  It will not be a major plot player, or anything outrageously extravagant, but it will be there, and hopefully it will make sense…

Hmph, seems now I've lost all lesbians and male reviewers… hang in there DrT!!!!
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #542 on: 08-02-2005 20:41 »

JBERGES: It did. I just forgot to come back and say so.
Tongue Luck

Starship Captain
****
« Reply #543 on: 08-05-2005 11:24 »

I'm still posting! Who said I wasn't?!!

Good stuff. Layla quoted most of my favorite moments, so just consider her comments seconded fourthed. Additionally, I must compliment your use of Amy in this chapter. It's rare that someone manages to make that girl consistently funny without breaking character in the slightest. And yet here you are, managing it. Well done.

 
Quote
Originally posted by JBERGES:
Sure, there were crime sprees and there was money laundering, but there was also clothes laundering,
Oh, man... Is Tim Burton in the house? 'Cause you just gave me a daddy flashback somethin' fierce. I totally learned what money laundering was when I was, like, eight, and I accidentally left a dollar in my jacket pocket when I put it in the hamper, and then my dad was all, "Hey Lee, you're under arrest," and I was all, "Huh?" and he was all, "You're an accessory to money laundering... Get it?" and I was all, "Not at all. Can I have my dollar back?" And then they built the super collider. Thank you, you've been a great audience.

 
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“We’ll be right back Charlie.”

“Know the way out?”

“You bet.”

“Touch anything on the way out or in and I’ll kill you?”

“Fair enough.”
Hee! I agree with all that has been said about Charlie. I like that he's menacing enough that he doesn't have to be menacing in order to be menacing. *blinks* Wait...

 
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“Empty boxes and crates, that’s it,” said Leela.  “The Disorganized People of Disorgatron ordered a ship-full.  If they like them, they’ll eventually order some more.”

“But,” Amy interrupted, “But I thought we were delivering to three different planets, weren’t we?”

“They’re very disorganized.”
Well, there goes that mystery. I was wondering what was up with that. Initially, I was a little disappointed that it wasn't something more weird and sinister, but I guess it's the trip that matters more than the destination. Also, HAHAHAhahahahahahaha... haha... haaa... disorganized.

 
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pulling apart two pieces of salami which had congealed together
Not sure if this is foreshadowing for some sort of equipment failure or simply a time-release gag that I'm reading too much into, but damned if it didn't amuse me half to death.

 
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Charles “Bananas” Foster (An unappreciated nickname very few people dare used) had a bit of everyone from the PE crew in him.  He had Leela’s temper, Bender’s lust for crime and/or money,
Few small phrasing suggestions that may or may not interest you. First, I'd consider changing "dare used" to "dared use". Just sounds more right in my mind. Second, the use of the abbreviation "PE crew" may be worth revising. Can't quite put my finger on why, but it feels a little out of place among all this prose. I take similar issue with the "and/or". I've seen that written in, you know, novels and stuff before, so I'm not sure what the hell I'm talking about,  but it feels like it breaks up the flow a little in this instance. All just crackpot opinions, though.
 
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“So… what type of shoes are those?” blurted Amy, mouth not quite full enough to prevent her.

Fry and Bender examined a large case; the only interesting thing in the room.
Again just a random thought, but maybe this'd be better with something to help highlight the switch between locales. Nothing major. I'm thinking along the lines of the "meanwhile" you used when you switched focus away from Fry and Bender earlier on.

There were a couple little punctuation issues, but they weren't important, and you'll probably catch them on your own during some rewrite or other, so I won't bother pointing 'em out. I don't much feel like being the butt of a "semi-colonoscopy" joke. Other than... the obvious one I totally just set anyone up for.

That being said, however...
 
Quote
Originally posted by Layla50:
“You’re carrying them and you don’t even know if they’re harmful?!” Leela reacted, incredulously.

Ooh, ooh! Can I be nitpicky like Gorky? Leela reacted, incredulous might be more grammatically accurate, though I don't tend to question your obvious knowledge in that area. Incredulously would be an adverb, right? So it does sort of say that Leela reacted in a manner that was incredulous, rather than Leela was feeling incredulous, which was maybe your goal. Works both ways I guess, just confused me a bit.
Agreed, sort of. I think either the already suggested, "Leela reacted, incredulous" or "Leela reacted incredulously" without the comma could remedy this bit of confusion.
SlackJawedMoron

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #544 on: 08-05-2005 23:16 »
« Last Edit on: 08-05-2005 23:16 »

So, here I am, pulling my battered and bloody body in through the door of your ramshakle appartment place, and roughly slapping my oh-so-late review into your needy palm. I then collapse and cease all movement. Because only a heroic and painful entrance (and possible death?) can redeem me for my once again spectacularlly late review. Enjoy.

I agree with who ever said that the most amusing part of this story was your knack for amusing descriptive prose. Your 'single entity of badness' thing was far too amusing, and you kept the pace up through the chapter. Up like a rocket monkey. The 'remdial educator' line was a favourite. Not a REALLY funny segment, though I did have a silly grin on my face throughout.

Charlie... well, for a fan-fic OC, he seems good enough... I'm waiting for him to do something spectacular and/or hilarious, and I think you'll deliver... it's always difficult to make your audience give a damn about once shot-OC's, and I'm interested to see if you can pull it off.


Also, this line:
   
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He guffawed coarsely, slapping Amy on the back hard enough to perturb her.

The word 'perturb' bugs me in this context... I always associated it with sitting down with a cofused/thoughtful expression on ones face. And getting slapped on the back doesn't really do that for me. It's my problem, and I'm on the patch. I still think that there's a more appropriate word for this situation, but danged if I can think of it.

Yeah, that's a pretty good review, I think. Bury me somewhere with a view... say, jam my corpse in between two window panes on the penthouse sweet of that massive hotel in Singapore. Remember, if you use a shovel, it still counts as a burial.

EDIT: My pane-squished-air-cadavar is spasmodically jerking in ecstacy to see that Tongue Luck is back. Yay!
M0le

Space Pope
****
« Reply #545 on: 08-05-2005 23:29 »

bEgresm, thats thr bvest thing ive evasr read. terry pratcheettt bows before y9u!! alkl hail JbEgrges!
JBERGES

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #546 on: 08-06-2005 01:11 »

*sniff*

Aw.. just when I was feeling down that several regulars stopped posting around here, three come back with a vengence.  You guys are great.  I'm going to get you all so many lizards. In an unrelated thought, today is my birthday (w00t), and I believe Kloudes put something in that last drink I had........
DrThunder88

DOOP Secretary
*
« Reply #547 on: 08-06-2005 01:51 »

 
Quote
Originally posted by JBERGES:
...I believe Kloudes put something in that last drink I had........

Was it wuv?
Venus

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #548 on: 08-06-2005 02:57 »

eeeewwww.
SlackJawedMoron

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #549 on: 08-06-2005 12:19 »

Oh, wait, that's what I forgot to say: Is there a joke in '"Bananas" Foster'? I ask because a friend of mine...
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #550 on: 08-06-2005 12:24 »

Happy Birthday JBerges. I hope you're stuffed full of whatever Kloudes gave you and have a good day. Somehow, someway, I like you. And I also like you stories. Hooray JBERGES!
DrThunder88

DOOP Secretary
*
« Reply #551 on: 08-07-2005 02:26 »
« Last Edit on: 08-07-2005 02:26 »

 
Quote
Originally posted by SlackJawedMoron:
Oh, wait, that's what I forgot to say: Is there a joke in '"Bananas" Foster'? I ask because a friend of mine...

I guess they don't have Google in Australia, or is "Bananas Foster" Austalian for "Bananas Beer"?

Bananas Foster is a delicious combination of caramelized sugar, cinnamon, flaming liquor, and bananas.  It's especially popular in cajun or creole cooking.
SlackJawedMoron

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #552 on: 08-07-2005 02:43 »

I don't need Google when I have Americans.
Shiny

Professor
*
« Reply #553 on: 08-07-2005 13:46 »

Okay.  I need to come up with a standard post that says “I read it, I liked it a lot, but I’m strapped for time and energy, and besides, someone else has already mentioned all the things I would have if I had responded first.  Good work, I can’t wait for the next piece!”

So....


[*ahem*]


Hey, JBerges!

I read your last segment.  I enjoyed the heck out of it, but I’m strapped for time and energy, and besides, someone else has already mentioned all the things I would have if I had responded first.

Good work, I can’t wait for the next piece!

[insert 'abashed, apologetic, but honestly impressed smiley' here]

Sincerely (really)

Shiny
I

Starship Captain
****
« Reply #554 on: 08-14-2005 11:03 »
« Last Edit on: 08-14-2005 11:03 »

*Nodds approvingly without anything constructive to say*

Hello.
SORF

Starship Captain
****
« Reply #555 on: 09-04-2005 01:06 »

fan fiction sucks, all of it. untill i read yours. I LOVE YOU JBERGES!!
JBERGES

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #556 on: 09-20-2005 02:16 »
« Last Edit on: 09-20-2005 02:16 »

To all who I missed giving a response to last month; I apologize, and am thankful that you all took the time to respond in my thread.

Well, PEEL, here I am; alive and well... perhaps a bit lazy.  Is anyone left?  I wanted to hold this update off until I finished chapter 3, but it just occurred to me that I want to extend it a few more pages, and I don’t want to delay any further.  In addition to a new (albeit short) section, I’ve gone back and fixed up the first couple of parts to flow with the prose (Thanks bundles for your help, Kloudes    smile ).  Seeing as it’s been a while since I posted them anyway, I’m just going to include the entire revamped story up until now.  Prepare for an evil long post of DOOM!  (New section marked off with tildes if you’d like to skip to it)

_____________________________ _______________


 Untitled

Another day, another face full of ink.  Fry sighed unconcernedly as he used his shirt to wipe a crustaceous defense mechanism out of his eyes.  Things like this didn’t faze him.  Life was good, or at least always somewhat better than it had been.  He had a fun job, a place to live, some friends, and three rhomboid meals a day.  It was practically all he needed.  Fry stepped forward as Zoidberg scuttled back towards the door from whence he came, but Bender seized him by the claw faster than a portly man at a buffet.

“I give you a shopping list with TWO items on it and you still manage to screw it up?!”  Bender inveighed, tearing open the bag in disgust. “What the hell is this stuff anyway?” he yelled, producing some long red strands.

“...Liquorice?”

“I needed liquor, and ice you idiot!” yelled the robot, making impromptu use of the candy by flogging Zoidberg with the makeshift ‘whips.’ They lived up to their name, cracking loudly as they struck the doctor’s carapace. Carrying out stage two of his patented “ink and run” defense, Zoidberg broke free and dashed from the room, Bender in hot pursuit.

Leela looked quizzically at Fry, knowing full well the events could have been averted.

“Fry, you know Bender’s weekly shopping list, why didn’t you say something?”

“But I wasn’t even with him!  We just met at the door!”

“Oh really?” Leela said, taking the opportunity to make Fry squirm a bit. “Then why weren’t you at work?”

Fry had an answer. “Uh...  I... was at the museum, looking at art!”

And in fact, this statement was not a lie, though Philip failed to mention that Art is the homeless man that lives on the museum’s front entrance steps.  Sometimes he’ll play the spoons for a quarter, which in some circles could be considered art.  Earth is not enclosed by any such circle.  Leela merely rolled her eye at Fry, which by this point in her life had become about as instinctive as breathing regularly.  In fact, the only thing Leela truly missed about having two eyes was being able to roll both of them at once.  Something was simply more gratifying about it.  Her pupil had plenty of time to return to their normal direction to catch the last two thirds of Farnsworth’s protracted entrance into the room.

“Good news and bad news, everyone!” he shouted giddily.

Leela sneered, “Isn’t the good news usually bad news anyway?” 

“Not this time it isn’t!” assured the scientist, “This time, the bad news is most assuredly the bad news.”

“Well that’s a relief!” exhaled Fry.  Leela was not as persuaded.

“Fine, I’ll bite,” she groused, before assuming a faux-naïve tone. “What’s the good news, Professor?”

“The good news is that the bad news isn’t so bad!”

Leela let out a sigh that could extinguish a birthday cake, and once again found her pupil pointing upwards.  She knew that ceiling well.  Very well.  Fry took it upon himself to ask the obvious question; he was good at that.

“...and the bad news is?”

“Due to scheduling and proximity, you’ll have to make your next three deliveries in a row, in one trip,” Farnsworth stated. “It could take a while.  You’ll be leaving as soon as possible.”

Leela was worried by this vague phraseology.  “How long is a while?  A while as in, ‘a couple of days,’ or a while as in, ‘don’t count on you being alive when we get back?’”

“Both, I’d imagine,” answered Hubert, undaunted. “Anyway, let’s see... this is a long trip, so you two will need to bring the staff doctor, and the staff cook... and the staff engineer along.”

Fry and Leela exchanged nervous looks.  One of the few things they consistently agreed on was that, generally, the more people that went on a mission, the worse things tended to go.  Bender was indeed a welcome addition most of the time, as a companion and especially when some strength and non-metaphorical elbow grease were needed. However, most of these missions didn’t require a dreadful in flight meal.  The last time Bender had cooked onboard, he had burnt the kitchen down.  Not accidentally, mind you; he had simply gotten bored while waiting for the pork to ferment. Fry got along with Amy well enough, but sparks were liable to fly between Leela and the intern; especially if Amy ever tried to fix that broken electrical coupler again. 

Everyone hated Zoidberg.

“Hermes and I will stay here,” Farnsworth added, “I’m forcing him to do some repairs on the building while you’re gone.”

“Can you tell him to paint the ceiling while he’s at it?” asked Leela. “Something interesting...”

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

“So then, what are we delivering?” Fry curiously inquired.

“Oh, you know, this and that...”

“Your clipboard and that pen?”

“No!” came Farnsworth’s necessarily angry reply. “You can peek in the crates when you’re onboard; your things are waiting for you no need to pack get moving!” all escaped in one accelerated breath. Gasping for lost oxygen, he pointed the way out of the room, as if it was previously uncharted. Fry and Leela reluctantly adopted his hastened pace, and headed out.

The Planet Express Ship.  A ship Professor Farnsworth once declared “too good for a proper name.” He also said the same of “That thing! Yes, you know the one I’m talking about!  That invention that’s too good for a proper name!  ...No, not the ship, damnit!”  Regardless, Leela liked the fact that the ship didn’t have a name.  There was something more dignified about flying a ship of sheer business compared to a “Zip,” a “Lucy in the Sky” or a “Nimbus.” 

Amy, Zoidberg, Fry, and Bender were aboard now, and Leela had even managed to smuggle Nibbler along for the ride.  The Professor had stayed true to his word; the ship was already filled with everything they needed for the trip.  Farnsworth had even provided new clothes, which he produced using the Clothing Xerox he invented.  “Hmph...” Amy had scoffed, “looks like another week of wearing the same outfit.”

Leela leaned against the steering console.  She needed a week off, not an indefinite amount of time with coworkers.  Halfheartedly, she went through parts of the mandatory preflight check with Fry.

“Crew and cargo?”

“Check!”

“Fuel reserves?”

“Check!”

“Beer?”

“Czech!” beamed Fry, popping the top off of a ‘Fortranvar’ brand beer.

“Good enough for me,” confessed the captain. “Let’s get going.  I need to steer us out of the mega-sector before autopilot can take over, and I’d like that to happen sometime before what would be morning.  Start the countdown at zero, would you?”

“Z-“

“Blastoff.”

Leela activated the required controls, and the ship darted gracefully into the sky.  A perfect takeoff, sans a nasty crashing sound from just outside the cockpit.

“Hey!  How about a little warning next time!” shouted an irritated Martian.

Several hours of lackluster flight soon took their toll on the captain. In truth, the thoughts that run through a tired captain’s mind are almost always lonely and depressing.  Even a non-emotional captain will attest to it.  Something about the endless blackness; the blurred voids of what never was, and never will be.  You can easily maneuver a ship through that stuff, but rarely a life.  The mere recapitulation of this truth had once made Leela pity a man so much as to submit herself to him, an act she would regret forever.  Presently, thoughts of this manipulation haunted her as she steered a steady course.  It was like some sort of malicious cycle, and she could only hope to God that that she’d never bumble through the wrong side of that metaphoric wheel again.

Meanwhile, Fry was gleefully juggling apples.  That is, if by juggling, you mean tossing four of something into the air, flailing your arms about for a short length of time, and then picking up the same four of something off the ground.  The two workers were in the same room, and the dichotomy of moods was enough to trigger a tornado somewhere between them.  Fry had given up small talk at these times long ago.  Leela, however, had not.

“Do you really have to do that in here?” She yelled.

“Do you really have to do that in here?”

Leela looked down at her controls, then back to Fry. “YES!

“Oh, right.” Fry conceded, deciding to leave Leela be. “I guess I’ll give these apples back to Bender in the kitchen.  He pegs the mice for the soufflé with them.”

Leela gave a near inaudible murmur of recognition, then continued steering.  Fry never even heard it.

Elsewhere, Bender Bending Rodriguez darted through the ship’s hallways like a kid in a candy store being chased by the bull from the china shop.  He was excited, but staid; the packages in the storage hold had not yet been pilfered.  The thrill of the impending filch-fest slightly overshadowed his resentment at being behind schedule.  After all, multiple deliveries mean more of a selection.  Serpentining for the pure showmanship of it, Bender spied the unguarded door.  He was currently outsmarting an opponent that didn’t actually exist, but if he just walked in there like it was nothing, where would the fun be?  In a way, he almost longed for the days when Leela cared about the mission.  In many more ways, he didn’t.

Bender lowered his eye shutter to imitate a concentration induced squint, but the fact was he was fully capable of calculating the optimal speed to reach the automatic door at without much difficulty.  Indeed, a disjoint process in his queue, dedicated to performing at least 7 self-exaltations per nanosecond, barely lagged at all. Crossing the threshold merely 5 ‘attabot’s after the path was clear, Bender ran headlong into what he could only guess was some sort of red exoskeleton.

“Hey! Watch it, crabby!”

Zoidberg tried to appear dignified, “Hffmph. Jabs at my disposition won’t faze me.”
 
“Well, how about this then?  I still hate you for before!”

“Oh...”

Bender followed with his version of compassion. “But if it makes you feel better, it’s not like I liked ya to begin with.”

“A bit, yes.”  Zoidberg mused, then suddenly felt culpable.  “Uh... I was just here checking to make sure this cargo wasn’t... uh... askew,” he said, making sure to flagrantly shift one box slightly to the left, completing the elaborate ruse.

“I don’t care what you’re doing... just as long as it affects me in no way whatsoever, no matter how indirectly.”  Bender decreed, and proceeded to rip the top off of the largest crate.  Zoidberg peered in as well, hoping his wishes would be fulfilled, and that the contents would be edible... or semi-edible... or at least not fatal when consumed.

“Empty...” bewailed Bender.  The word echoed desolately off the walls of the vacant container, which soon found its contents to be exactly one tear.   

Prying open the remaining crates like a child before Santa could arrive, Bender slowly realized the horrible truth; the Professor hadn’t put anything in the crates.  Actually, what he vocalized was “There’s nothin’ for me to steal!!” but the basic concept remained the same.

“Well, there’s no need for the others to know...” he decided, and began securing the tops back on the boxes.

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Look, if we go back now, it’s a wasted trip, and my time is more valuable than your life.  But if we get to where we’re going before Leela finds out, at least maybe some good interplanetary thievery will come out of it.  Now, if Leela hears anything about this from you...”

“My mandibles are tied!”

“Uh... good.”

An abrupt jolt of the ship rattled a second latent tear out of Zoidberg’s eye, as he and Bender quickly found themselves sliding across the floor like reluctant players in an electric football game. Off balance, Fry half ran and half fell through the doorway, shouting fearfully.

“Earthquake!  Earthquake!!   Uh...  I mean... Not-on-Earth quake....” he pondered as he skated past the jumbled array of crates.

Meanwhile, Amy gracefully made her way to the cockpit, the movement of the floor perfectly complementing her somewhat ungainly gait.  Leela turned her head slightly to note her arrival, and then went back to hitting random buttons and jerking the controls in directions.  The intern tried to remain calm as she addressed the already frazzled captain.

“This is bad!  Very very bad!”

“What’s causing all this shuddering, Amy!”

“It’s the quantum drive! Y’know, the thing that regulates the engines?”

“Yes, I know! But I thought you fixed that problem!”

“Uh... no, I thought you got the Professor to after my last report”

“What?  On your last status report you said the quantum drives would hardly shake!”

“...Hardly’s the opposite of softly, right?”

Amy let out a modest fake laugh, as Leela wished she could bury her face in her presently occupied hands, or her hands in Amy’s presently occupied face. 

“So... no one fixed the quantum drives...” Leela reiterated as coolly as possible, getting used to the vibrations. “The ship will break up if we don’t land pretty soon.  We’ll have to find a mechanic.”

“A quantum mechanic,” Amy emphasized. “And I hate quantum mechanics!”

“Don’t we all...” sighed Leela.
 
Chapter 2:

Space travel, in essence, is no laughing matter, unless you happen to be traveling through the essence of an N2O nebula.  The transition from normal, primitive, town-to-town travel to sprawling traversals of galaxies was fraught with difficulties in every aspect imaginable.  Take, for instance, an ordinary traffic light.  Red, Green. Stop, Go.  It’s a concept so simple that many planets besides Earth had developed a similar schema before contact was even made. 

Now, try driving a spaceship towards the stoplight at one third the speed of light... most cruise controls have that option...  and that red light’s going to look green. This fact does not bode well for inexperienced drivers.  The easiest solution?  A second, more intense “light” blasts infrared at oncoming traffic, who, thanks to our shifty friend Mr. Doppler, see a crisp red signal approaching.

Leela slowed the ship to a stop at the intersection of √80 and i(81).  She tried to remind herself of how beautiful the deceleratory shift was, the new colors washing away the old like a reflection of a rainbow ebbing with the tide.  This was a trifle difficult, however, as her crew was still as obnoxious as ever, her hands were effectively soldered to the steering wheel, and the twenty minutes of incessant rattling had successfully knocked her brain off-stride, her legs off-senses, and her bra strap off-shoulder, much to Fry’s non-chagrin.

Finally able to let go of the controls, Leela took a moment to gather herself, both mentally and physically.  Once the vessel was idling, the general clatter onboard became less chaotic, and more like the ship was a giant cell phone set to vibrate alert. 

“Look!” shouted Bender, bounding into the room, “I can make a martini without even moving!”  He demonstrated by clamping his mixer together and waiting for a few seconds, just in case Leela or Amy doubted him.

“That’s great...” muttered Leela.  “Where did Fry end up?  We’re going to be landing soon and I don’t want him playing around the landing gear when it’s deployed again...”

“He’s in my room,” Bender assured, neglecting the fact that he and Fry actually shared the cabin.  “Since you kicked him out of the bridge for good, he’s been trying to draw a picture on his Etch-a-Sketch.  ...It hasn’t gone well.”  Bender snickered at his friend’s expense, then froze in a sudden panic. 

“Uh oh, that’s resonant!” he bemoaned, before falling to pieces.

Luckily, the light chose an apt time to turn green.  Leela, who hadn’t even noticed a change in frequency, punched the gas, just as the structural integrity of the ship could be heard weakening as the hull oscillated.  This assuaged the sounds of warping metal, but brought about a third, completely unique way of shaking previously thought impossible by everyone onboard.  By now, even the consistently chipper Amy had had enough.

“Ai- lay yow mow low gah?”  She grumbled to herself, lamenting her earlier mistake.  No one would ever hear her fault herself in English, of course. 

“This stones temple pilots!” shouted Leela, aiming the ship in the direction of a rest stop. “Assuming there’s even someone there that can fix this, they’re going to charge at least my salary for a year to fix it”

“You could always sell your body to truckers,” suggested a recently decapitated head.

“Seems it’d be easier to sell yours now, doesn’t it?” came Leela’s cold retort.

“Yeah, much easier,” agreed Amy, in a manner which undeniably insulted Leela far more than Bender.

The task of clearing the airlock without hitting the walls was much like the task operating the finglonger after your 99th cup of coffee, but Leela handled it with poise.  She scraped the sides mercilessly, but maintained her poise throughout.  The Planet Express Ship drifted downwards towards a parking spot, stalled 10 feet above, and deployed its landing gear.  A confused lobster had a confusing 10 foot fall, and beat the ship in an unscheduled race to the ground. 

Leela turned off the engines; finally, it was over.  No matter what horrors awaited them at this undoubtedly sketchy rest stop, Leela took solace in the fact that she would no longer have to drive her vessel in a seat which was mimicking an Omicronian massage chair.  Another thing Leela had learned in her few years of captaining; you should always take as much solace as you can, because someone’s bound to take most of it back.

Meanwhile, Fry figured it was safe to show himself again.  He tried his luck, and opened the door marked ‘bridge,’ ...allowing him to step out onto a viaduct of the Professor’s construction.  Using it to cross over the cage with the lion, he then shimmied down a ladder, bringing him to the hallway.  This hallway is what finally led to the cockpit, which, ironically, is exactly what Farnsworth had once decided against, opting instead to get a lioncage.

“Alright now,” Leela started, effectively predicting Fry’s entrance, “we’ll find the mechanic, and hopefully be on our way in a few hours. I don’t want anyone wandering too far off.” 

She knew that they were currently in an inescapable airtight dome, but Fry and Bender were the type you could lose track of in a suicide booth.

“Amy, I have no idea how much this is going to cost,” Leela continued, “but you’ll have to pay for the repairs for now, and maybe the Professor will reimburse you. Do you think you’ll be able to cover it?”

“Well, I did just buy 3 metric tons of hair care products,” pondered Amy, “But my parents put a deposit in my account yesterday, and the bank said that it was terrific!”

“You mean outstanding?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well,” sighed the cyclops “...we’d better hope the checks clear...”

“You mean Fortranvar Crystal?”  Fry interjected. “We’re out of that.”

“Plenty of explicatory martini left, though” added Bender.

“Let’s just go...” said Leela, halfway out the door.

The rest stop was indeed sketchy.  A crime scene sketched by an anguished artist, perhaps.  The airlock and dome looked shiny and new, for the distinguishing reason that they were the only things that kept everyone inside from dying.  Everything else had been left to putrefy into a rancid shabbiness, a comatose scrap of an insipid past kept alive by a bubble of the finest mandated technology.  If the laws of science allowed wind to blow in the dilapidated hemisphere, it would whisper, “Just let me break.”  A restaurant, a garage, and two fuel pumps, long since tired of each other’s company, welcomed anyone desperate enough to partake in their services.

“Hmph... quantum repair man?”  Leela scoffed.  “We’ll be lucky if there’s someone who can re-pair socks...”

She smirked, but the “whoosh” the line made passing over the crew’s heads created the first wind the dome had seen in eons, the brevity of which gave little time for a whisper in edgewise.  Zoidberg, by now, had dusted himself off and joined the group as they glanced interestedly, passing the first and only other ship they came across.  It was green and bulbous; a rather traditional rocket shape with a mild overbite.  At a glance, one might easily confuse it with the PE ship, but closer inspection showed the vessel was not of Earth.  The engines were oddly shaped to say the least, and the landing gear looked somewhat like an advanced form of gelatin.  By the fuel pumps, a lone space-taxi idled, and that was all there was to be seen. 

“Amy and I will head to the garage to see if anyone can fix the ship, the rest of you go to the restaurant and see if they can fix a sandwich.” said Leela, motioning towards the destinations.

Bender was not pleased by this usurpation, “What?!  I slaved over a hot stove for nothing?!”

“The only time anyone slaved over that stove is the time you tried to sauté that slave,” remarked Fry, in an intermittent squall of thought.

“Whaddaya mean ‘tried’?” boasted Bender, letting the initial point slide, as he had, in fact, not even begun to consider procrastinating getting started on delaying the process of cooking, due to the earlier thieving incident.     
 
“Don’t worry friends,” started Zoidberg, turning to face the women, “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s finding food!”

Is there one thing you’re good at?”

“... no...”

“Well,” Leela interposed, “In that case you should go back and get Nibbler.  If they actually bring the ship in for service... I just realized it would probably be best if he wasn’t left onboard.”

“Should I get the lion too?”

“Do we ever take the lion?”

“No.”

“Do we ever even acknowledge the lion?”

“No.”

“Leave the lion.”

“Yes ma’am!” shouted the lobster, with the sudden fervor that Zoidberg sometimes gained upon receiving an ‘important’ task to do.  He strode confidently towards the ship; he would get it right, and maybe, just maybe, he would be appreciated for it.  Then lunch.

“Zoidberg!  The keys?!” hollered Leela.

The doctor turned back around.  “I hear they’re lovely this time of year!” he yelled back, “Are we going on vaca-oof!” he rambled, before getting hit in the face with a set of keys thrown at the velocity of a pitched blurnsball.

The three parties went their separate ways.

Fry and Bender approached Allen Omla’s Cleanly Diner.  It appeared to be open, and through the window, there could be seen someone assumedly working the counter.  Whether he was conscious or not was yet to be discovered.

“Uh, Bender?  Do you have any money?”

“None that anyone else is getting.”

“Well, I’m broke,” said Fry, “I guess we’ll have to-”

Bender cut him off. His attempt at stealing had been thwarted earlier, but now he had been given a second chance.
   
“Alright, Fry!  If we’re going to do this we’re going to do this right.  This ain’t gonna be no two bit operation...” said the robot, as he pointed to his head, “only the simplest of mechanical operations take up two bits.”

“Like what?”

“Shaves and haircuts, mainly.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, you’re going to be running strict diversion,” Bender continued, regaining his zealous focus. “Seduce the sentinel at the counter, while I sneak around back, stealing the food... and anything in their safe, with skill and style.”

“Seduce?! But I-”

“No time for questions!” Bender yelled, pointing a trembling metallic finger at the diner window.  Inside, the lone worker idly drummed his fingers. “Meet back here in 10 minutes!” And he was gone.  Fry shrugged plaintively, and entered the front door.   

Leela and Amy entered the garage.  It gave off the same, ‘ancient death’ vibe as the remainder of the rest-stop.  A correspondingly ancient robot waited behind a counter, the two LED’s glowing behind the eyes the only hint of sentience.  Leela cautiously walked up to it.

“Hello?” she said tentatively.

“Hi.  And welcome to Steve’s Garage.  Please stand aside and let other customers through. ”

“But we’re the only-” Amy started.

“Please stand aside, or go fetch your captain.”

“I AM the captain,” said Leela, already indignant.

“Does not compute.  Please stand aside, or go fetch your captain.”

Amy cut off what would have been a burst of shouting from the cyclops.

“Is there, by chance, a life form that we can discuss this with?”

“Yes, but he has no need to speak with you, please fetch your captain.”

“But she...”

“I am programmed only to accept dealings with men.”

“But that-”

“I am programmed only to accept dealings with men.”

Leela swallowed her pride.  It had a mysteriously exotic taste to it.

“Fine.  Uh... our captain... he sent us to discuss price before he bothered to leave his quarters.”

Amy gawked in Leela’s direction; she hoped the woman was up to something. The robot paused, seemingly to contemplate, but probably due to its glaringly sluggish processor.

“That is acceptable.  Please state the nature of the malfunction.”

Leela turned her back to the droid and pantomimed hitting some buttons on her wrist device, then put on the phoniest cheerful tone imaginable.

“Captain Slabbody?  Hi!  This is Leela.  ... Yes, yes, we found him fine. ... Oh, I’m doing great, yeah. ... Yes, Amy’s here too.  ... Oh, hehe!  You’re too sweet sir...”

Amy gave her a look, gesturing to speed it up.  Leela snapped back to reality.

“So anyway, this adorable wittle robot wants to know what’s wrong with the ship.”

She paused for theatrical effect, and then opened her eye wide.

“Well golly!  Those are some big words!  OK, I’ll tell him.” 

Leela twirled back to face the robot.

“He says, ‘a loose quantum drive is causing severe instablety...uh... instability.”

Amy had to turn away and cover her face to keep from hysterics.  This was just too out of character for Leela.  Another pause by the robot, this time even longer.

“That problem is unsolvable with the tools that are at our disposal.”

“He says it’s unplausible with the tools they have,” Leela talked into her forearm.  “...OK.  OK, I’ll ask him.”  She looked up at the automaton. “But you could bring the tools in, right?”

A third pause.

“That would cost us more money than you could possibly afford.”

“Oh, I’m not too sure about that” Amy jumped in, clearly enjoying herself, “Our captain’s very rich... and verrrry sexy.”

“He’d want the greatest designer tools from far and wide. Could you give him an estimate?” asked Leela.

A fourth pause, the grandest of all.  The inferior robot was clearly struggling with the complex calculations.

“Estimated cost... ... infinite... dollars...”

Leela put her arm back to her ear, and then addressed the droid again.

“You, sir, drive a hard bargain.  Charge us 70 percent of that and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

The robot exploded.

“Hmmph, overflow error.” Leela leered.

“Common in robots built before 2800” added Amy, remembering some of her college engineering.  “Well... now what?”

“We wait for the owner, who should-“

“What in the name of Jesus Reformatted Christ is goin’ on in here?!” bellowed a voice which could only be described as ‘unpleasant.’ Footsteps echoed ominously down the hall, and Leela prepared herself for whomever... or whatever emerged around the corner.

Relatively nearby, Fry leaned against a counter, the hand not propping himself up drawing a crude dog shape in the dust that had gathered on the surface.  He eyed the cashier, who was ostensibly weary of his only customer of the day.

“Sooooooo...”  Fry drawled... “You come here often?”

“I work here, sir.”

“Fascinating!”

A crash from behind the cashier told Fry to hit the deck.  Bender had, after some deep thought, decided on a ‘smash and grab’ strategy over the ‘sneak and pilfer’ and the albeit briefly considered ‘rumba and rummage’ strategies.

 “Commence operation Counter-Strike!!” came the battle cry.  Bender turned to the now ardently alert attendant.

“Five sandwiches!  Now!  Before someone gets hurt!  ...also, could you throw in the maximum amount money I can steal before it becomes a jailable offence?”

“Y-y-yes Mr. Robot sir!” was all the callow employee could stutter.  Meanwhile, the front door slammed shut, and all three occupants wheeled around to discover a guest none of them recognized.

“A robbery, eh?” said the man as he entered.  He seemed irate, but not because of the situation.  He seemed interested, but not quite surprised by what he had entered upon.  His species was apparently reptilian, or perhaps amphibious, but this guy looked like he was capable of using Kif as a birdie in an extremely macho game of badminton. He peered at Fry darkly then turned his gaze to Bender.  “Well?” he asked, like some sort of monstrous mother expecting an immediate explanation. No one stirred, though the attendant whimpered mutedly.

“Bender,” Fry hissed, in a faux-whisper, “What do we do?!”

Very calmly, Bender turned to the cashier.  “Better make that six sandwiches.”

A smile that could brighten a dark room, and thus cause all those around to quaver at the sight of its bearer, crept onto the interloper.  He laughed heartily.

“Hey, you guys are alright!” He chortled, redonning his previous mood only to address the worker.  “You heard him!  Get to it!”

“Yes s-s-sir!” 

The unfortunate employee bumbled through his work, two potentially dangerous and one seemingly vacant set of eyes watching over him.

“And don’t forget the frilly toothpicks!” barked the green skinned one before turning to Fry.  “By the way, my name’s Charlie. Hey, why don’t you guys come over to my ship for lunch?”

“I’m Fry, and that’s Bender. Uh, we’d love to, honestly, but we kinda have to meet with our-”

“Bring ‘em along, I don’t care.”

“...sure.” said Fry, not wanting to get on this new friend’s bad side.  He uncomfortably glanced at his surroundings, and noted the cashier, still shivering, handing a sack to Bender.  “C’mon Bender, let’s get out of here before I get that nauseous feeling again.”

“I had Zoidberg prescribe you guilt medicine!  Why don’t you take it?!”

“He ate it all when he realized it was just Eucharist.”

“Oh, well then- Hey wait up!”  Shouted Bender, grabbing Fry and heading after Charlie, who was already out the door.  Glad to be escaping the situation, Fry followed closely.

As luck would have it, Leela and Amy were already running towards them, in a manner which suggested that they had reason for running other than cardiovascular fitness.  Two groups running from two distinct problems soon became one group running from an indeterminate entity of badness somewhere behind them.  Escapes like this were nothing atypical; they fell into form as if the ordeal was as well-rehearsed as a fire drill, scampering up into Charlie’s ship instead of their own without as much as a second thought, save Leela, who had a second, but surely not a third.

Chapter 3:

Charles “Bananas” Foster (An unappreciated nickname very few friends dare used) had a bit of everyone from the PE crew in him.  He had Leela’s reclusiveness and temper, Bender’s lust for crime and money, Fry’s reckless yet optimistic attitude, Zoidberg’s ability to repulse, and Amy’s proclivity to finding eccentric employers.  Born on the planet Lagártos Two, Charlie slowly grew to find a balance between a dubious and legitimate lifestyle.  Sure, there were crime sprees and there was money laundering, but there was also clothes laundering, and the occasional delivery for his on again off again employer, Nuzi Spoziano.  Nuzi was a merchant but an inventor at heart, and often bestowed Charlie the benefits of his research, which was the only reason Foster bothered staying around at all.

For instance, Mr. Spoziano had fitted Charlie’s ship with promising experimental landing gear.  The near solid plasma which descends from the bowels of the ship is used to help the vessel really ‘stick’ the landing.  Of course, this connection is no more secure than that of two pieces of salami congealed together.  To affix the bond, parts of the landing gear compound are composed of electromagnetically controlled ferrofluid, which, when activated, spreads to the bottom of the gear and magnetically pulls the ship towards any nearby correspondingly magnetic material in the ground.  An onboard sensor alerts the pilot to any such optimal landing zone, and accordingly, a skilled pilot is able to land the ship at surprisingly steep angles, and even on the ceilings of caves or tunnels in a pinch.  Upon liftoff, just reverse the electric polarity through the ferrofluid and the ship gets a bonus antigrav-lift due to same sign repulsion... just be careful if you’re already on a ceiling...

The door shut behind the PE Crew; the air was dank and uninviting.  A lone light unwillingly lit the cargo-bay that had greeted them.  Leela retained the wry smile of a woman who had just kicked a large man’s ass, while Amy maintained the nervous adrenaline-soaked expression of a non-fighter who had just hit a man with a metal pipe hard enough to create onomatopoeia to her name.

Fry asked the obvious question, “What happened to you two?”

“Let’s just say we won’t be getting our ship fixed here any time soon,” said Leela.  She didn’t even bother to ask what had instigated the boys’ sprint.  Frankly, she just didn’t care.

“Great, so now what do we do?” moaned Bender.

“You could start by introducing yourselves,” resonated an ominous voice in the darkness, the tone of which sent chills down the women’s spines.

“Oh, sorry.” started Fry, oblivious to the foreboding atmosphere.  “Charlie, this is Leela, and this is Amy,” he said, indicating each female.

“Greetings gals!” bellowed Charlie, as if they were all his rowdy friends.  “Sorry if I scared you there.  Some people say I’m a cold-blooded killer... but they don’t know me.  If they knew me they’d realize my species is warm blooded!  Heh-heh!”  He guffawed coarsely, slapping Amy on the back hard enough to perturb her.  “So how ‘bout those sandwiches, Bender?”

“Comin’ right up, buddy.”

Lunches distributed, the group moved to a dining area, where small talk came along arduously.  Feeling Charlie out was like handling a marshmallow coated cactus.  Fry and Bender soon became bored with the blether.

“Say... Leela.  Shouldn’t we get Zoidberg and your fur pile?” asked Bender.

“Hmm, you’re right...” Leela mused, “They’re all alone now.  I wouldn’t want one of them eating the other... though I’m not sure which way that would turn out...”

“Uh... Fry and I‘ll go get ‘em if ya want.”

Leela was stuck.  She knew they were just trying to get out of an awkward situation, but at the same time suddenly feared for her pet’s life.  Who knew what Zoidberg’s shell would do to his adorable digestive tract?

“Yeah, go ahead...” she conceded.

“We’ll be right back Charlie.”

“Know the way out?”

“You bet.”

“Touch anything on the way out or in and I’ll kill you?”

“Fair enough.”

Bender grabbed Fry by the hand again and pulled him away.  Over time Bender had realized that this was much easier than talking him into things, as easy as doing that was.  He brought Fry down to the cargo bay, opened the hatch via control panel, then made an abrupt right turn.

Fry asked the obvious question, “Bender, this isn’t the right way, where are we going?”

“Storage chamber connected to the cargo bay; saw it on the way in.  This bay is empty, so we’re checking it out.”

“But he’ll kill us!”

“Big deal.  I’m technically not a life-form and you don’t have a life, so we’ve got nothing to lose!”

Fry couldn’t argue with that, which was good, because by the time he would have formed an argument Bender had already overrode the lock on the door.

Meanwhile, the captains conversed as best they could.  Amy wasn’t saying much, if anything at all.

“So, you do deliveries for a living?” asked Leela.

“I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Oh... well then what do you-”

“How about we don’t talk about it, alright?!” came a curt and vociferous reply. He instantly calmed.  “But you, you do the delivery thing?”

“Yeah, I suppose you could call it that.  I prefer the term ‘Captain,’ or even ‘Remedial educationalist’ to describe my job, though.”

“What are you delivering now?”

Leela sighed.  “Boxes,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“Empty boxes and crates, that’s it,” said Leela.  “The Disorganized People of Disorgatron ordered a ship-full.  If they like them, they’ll eventually order some more.”

“But,” Amy interrupted, “But I thought we were delivering to three different planets, weren’t we?”

“They’re very disorganized.”

“Oh.”

“Sounds like a wild good time,” jeered Charlie, pulling apart two pieces of salami which had congealed together, then stuffing them both into his mouth. “I have some crazy things with me right now; craziest looking things... haven’t the damnedest what they do, but this guy I know said they’re pretty interesting.  Don’t know if I buy it, though.  I’m bringing them from one scientist to another for testing, or some crap like that... probably steal ‘em if I wasn’t afraid of blowing myself up with one of them.”

“You’re carrying them and you don’t even know if they’re harmful?!” Leela reacted, incredulous.

“Hey!” Charlie stood up, casting a looming shadow over the cyclops.  “Why don’t you keep your criticism to yourself, huh?  Whose ship are you on, anyway?” 

Leela was too stunned to even retort. Amy dropped her sandwich, inattentively leaving her mouth in sandwich acceptance mode, then collected both meal and lower jaw in one sheepish fell swoop.  Charlie sat down, but did not break eye-contact with Leela for a pregnant moment, and while Leela had just taken a decidedly sizeable man down with only minimal help from her cohort, something about Charlie told her he’d win in a fight. 

“One looks like a camera, and one looks like a box with a couple red buttons.  I’m getting paid well and legally to bring them somewhere, and I’m not confident enough in their value to risk messing with that. That’s sufficient knowledge for me.” said Charlie, resolutely.

“I’m sorry Charlie,” Leela began, “I just assumed-“

“Don’t assume, Leela. Assuming makes an ass out of you.”

“...you and...”

“and what?”

“Me!” Leela belted, completing the ancient idiom.

“Right, out of you,” said Charlie, in an almost patronizing fashion.

The man smirked in a way which suggested he was just toying with Leela, seeing how far he could provoke her.  If this was what he was up to, he was somehow an expert on her already.  The silence that followed was piercingly braying.

“So... what type of shoes are those?” blurted Amy, mouth not quite full enough to prevent her.

Meanwhile, Fry and Bender examined a large case; the only interesting thing in the room.  Fry was clearly nervous now that he had thought about the consequences more, and was eager to get out and do what they had actually said they were going to.

“Alright Bender, just take the case and let’s go”

Bender looked at the bulky case, and then to Fry.

“Heh, you kiddin?  I don’t have that type of volume available!”

Fry turned a dial on the back of Bender’s torso.

“How about now?”

”NOT THAT TYPE, MORON!” roared the din that was once Bender’s non-augmented voice.  Fry quickly turned the dial back; hoping desperately that the room they were in was soundproof.  After several silent seconds had passed, Fry relaxed, tenderly putting his hands to his ears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ow... my cochleae...” he whimpered. And with that, Bender opened the case.  Inside, he found two relatively common looking items; one looked like a camera, and one looked like a simple metal device with several red buttons...

If only they had gone to get Zoidberg first, perhaps they could have stopped it...

Just minutes earlier, Zoidberg had finally reached the Planet Express Ship after an exciting chase after a ferret that had turned out to actually be a large mouse which had escaped from behind the deli.  Not one to be fastidious, he ate it, though it wasn’t really much of a meal.  It tasted like soufflé.

Activating the staircase via a remote delicately perched between his pincers, Zoidberg wandered up the stairway, dully aware that he was making a lot more noise on the metal stairs than usual.  He soon noticed that there were also several more guns pointed at the back of his head than usual. Zoidberg’s claws were up faster than an order at Sam’s Short Order Seafood.

“Alright, let’s have it.” said a robot, in an exceedingly serious tone.

“Have what?” asked the doctor.

“Don’t play dumb!” a female voice barked.

“I don’t need to play, I promise!”

“The lawbreaker.”

‘The what?”

“The lawbreaker!”

‘The what?”

“The law-“

“He wants you to elaborate, Holly!” the android hollered, hands in the air in frustration.

“Oh, cool it Kui,” snarled the woman, noting the bot’s overdramatic pose, “And if you keep your hands up like our friend here I may be tempted to shoot you too.”  She turned to Zoidberg. “Look, it’s very simple Lobster-boy.  You have what we want.”

“The lawbreaker...” repeated Zoidberg, thinking heavily.  ‘...you mean the robut?”

“The what?”

“The robut!

“The rowboat?  I.... uh... look, we don’t know exactly what it is, we just know what it’s called, and we have strict orders to ‘retrieve’ it from you.  You were making a delivery, weren’t you?”

“...Yes.”

“Well that’s what we want! Now get it before I pull this trigger then go find it myself!”

Zoidberg briefly thought back to his depressing trip to the cargo bay.  They probably weren’t going to be very happy either when they found out the crew had forgotten their payload.  Then again, maybe they would...

Holly stared at Zoidberg, who had the semblance of someone trying to calculate the proper tip to leave while in the midst of a bar brawl.  She really didn’t feel like following through on her threat, as violence made her squeamish, and she wanted to shrug off as many female stereotypes as possible.  Ever since teaming up with K.U.I., the Killbot Under Inhibition (basically your standard killbot with some severe moral hang-ups), she hadn’t had to resort to bloodshed.  People usually do whatever you say when two weapons are pointed at them.  “This guy, though...” she thought, “This guy either knows exactly what he’s doing, or is lost beyond rescue.”

The doctor perked up, a sure sign of his first cohesive thought.

“You guys don’t have any food on you do you?  I haven’t eaten all trip!”

“Beyond rescue...” muttered Holly. “Kui, tear up the cargo bay.  You’ll find it eventually”

Zoidberg had never retained much of a natural sense of danger. He was usually oblivious to it, choosing instead to lament over his minor shortcomings in life- how poor he was, his lack of good friends, how every single letter he had ever received from a woman was a Dear John letter. It was quite amazing that he had even shown the awareness to comply with the intruders at first, but soon his common sense melted away like certain types of paint at his scent. 

“So... ‘Kui,’ that’s an interesting name...” He said, still cheerful despite the robot’s inability to provide food. 

“KUI is short for a ‘Killbot Under Inhibition,” replied Holly, briefly lowering her gun.

“And you’re kind of chubby for a bandit...” scoffed Kui, already though a sizable portion of the boxes.

“Hey, that’s not what I meant!” shouted Holly, diffidently tugging her shirt past a slightly exposed midriff.  Feeling even more flustered for letting Kui get to her, she charged the gun and pointed at the nearest scapelobster.

“Young man,” started Zoidberg, “As you may not be aware, not being a person of medicine, unlike your species mine cannot survive being shot in the head.”

“...and?” Holly maliciously insinuated.

“Oh, just making conversation.  I happen to have extensive knowledge about what kills things, a skilled practitioner as I am.” Zoidberg beamed.

It was so naïve that she had to believe it.  She holstered the weapon; he wasn’t worth the ion pack a fully charged shot would consume.

“Nothing’s here!” Shouted Kui, completing his efficient search of the boxes.

“What?” screeched Holly.  “That’s impossible! Let me see...” She ran to Kui, momentarily stopping to turn back to the crustacean.  “Now don’t try anything dumber.  I’ve got my eye on you; make a move, and I’ll ion you.”

Holly joined her cohort, hoping her searching skills could somehow surpass the precision sensors of a military automaton.  Indeed, all of the boxes were empty... “They must have hid the cargo...” thought the woman, “somewhere where they could look after it...”

“Let’s check the cockpit!” she declared.  “Maybe they were keeping it safe in there. And if we can’t find it we’ll just take the whole ship back to ‘em.”

She jogged back to the Zoidberg, snatched the ships’ keys from him, then headed for the interior cargo-bay door, which to her surprise she discovered to be locked.  The key in her hand was clearly for the ignition.

“What?  How can this be locked?!”  Holly was flummoxed.  She wheeled on the doctor. “This door locks from the inside!  How did you plan on getting into your own ship, you idiot!!”

“Calm down, sir!” said the lobster, in a soothing but forceful voice.  “You’re awfully tense right now. I think you may be coming down with hypochondria...”

“Kui!  Interface with that door and hack your way in, OK?”

Kui looked despondent. “Do you have any idea how annoying that is?  What have you done for me lately?”

“Well, I got you those strippers for your birthday.”

“True, true.  ...fine...”  forfeited Kui.  Opening up his cabinet, he retrieved said strippers, using them to fray a wire on his finger, and then spliced it into the door panel.  Some standard sparks ensured.

“Nothing.  I don’t have access...”  he sighed. “Wait... wait... OK, no problem, I’ve downloaded an electronic blueprint of their ship. We can find a way from here through the vents, since they connect from here to the cockpit; it says so in the legend.”

“We’re going to wriggle through a ventilation system on nothing but myth?”

“No, I mean there’s a key!

“Well then open the damn door!!”

“No!  Do you even know-”

The two continued to squabble as Zoidberg looked on, perplexed at the entire situation, but prepared to treat any emotional scars the fight might cause with a tourniquet.  Eventually, Holly would learn not to bicker senselessly with a computer program.  Quite simply, they know far too much about arguments.  Meanwhile, Nibbler abandoned his post at the opposite side of the interior door, bounding to the cockpit as fast as his legs could carry him, which was slower than usual.  After all, he had just eaten a lion.

__________________

After the next update, (hopefully not in a month and a half) this story will be at about the halfway point (As I’ve planned it.  Who knows) at which point I’ll probably submit what I have to TLZ assuming it’s alive... 

But unfortunately, that’s all for now.  Hope you liked it.  Please comment/critique, as I need to know if this stuff is still any good (note my attempt to bring back the puns). Until next time, here’s hoping some missing PEELers return from the land of the missing...

Brevity is the soul of
Kloudes

Liquid Emperor
**
« Reply #557 on: 09-20-2005 14:42 »

 
Quote
Originally posted by JBERGES:
Well, PEEL, here I am; alive and well... perhaps a bit lazy.  Is anyone left? 

Doesn't seem like it.  hmpf

 
Quote
I’ve gone back and fixed up the first couple of parts to flow with the prose (Thanks bundles for your help, Kloudes     smile ). 

No problem, love.  love

 
Quote
After the next update, (hopefully not in a month and a half) this story will be at about the halfway point (As I’ve planned it.  Who knows)

I didn't know that! 

 
Quote
(note my attempt to bring back the puns)

Definitely noted. It was a groaning good time!
Demeter

Starship Captain
****
« Reply #558 on: 09-21-2005 00:33 »

 
Quote
Originally posted by JBERGES:
Elsewhere, Bender Bending Rodriguez darted through the ship’s hallways like a kid in a candy store being chased by the bull from the china shop.

Ah the two classical sayings rolled into one. Loved the story so far and hope to see the rest soon... And with the Etch-e-sketch joke it took me awhile to realise what was funny about that. Got it eventually   laff Great Fan Fic. Worthy of an episode
DrThunder88

DOOP Secretary
*
« Reply #559 on: 09-21-2005 03:02 »

Classy stuff, J.  I'll only bring up a few things and get out of the way for the more gigantic commentaries.

  • Zoidberg's pride in and demonstration of his medical "knowledge" is first-rate.
  • Is "KUI" a play off of "DUI" or is there another joke I'm missing?  I only ask because it seems a little awkward.
  • On that note, I see I've been introduced to two more characters that I'm dying to learn more about.

I look forward to the next update.  I assume I'll be reading it after Thanksgiving dinner.
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