Screw the Universe by Stephen Schwegler, Eirik Gumeny Page B

on in confusion.
     

     
    Thirty minutes later, Engineer Irma Dickface walked onto the bridge to find Captain Tyler strung up against the wall by his testicles, the rest of the crew taking turns throwing knives at him. So far, no one had missed. It was safe to say that Captain Tyler was dead. Again.
     
    “Guys,” said Engineer Dickface, “what the hell?”
     
    “You’re not dead?” asked Private Boxershorts.
     
    “Why would I be dead?”
     
    “Because the engine room and all the engineers were launched into space,” said Private Naughtyplaces.
     
    “Yeah, no,” answered Engineer Dickface. “You guys – the bridge – took off for some reason. We followed you and re-docked.”
     
    “What?” said First Lieutenant Duknerts. “Computer!”
     
    “Yes, Acting Captain Ducknards?”
     
    “What the hell, computer?! You said there was a hole in the ship! And the engines had been compromised!”
     
    “Correct. There was a hole in the Zdravo where the bridge had been. It sealed itself off, as it should have. And the bridge engines were compromised. The captain had them drained of fuel and has been using them as storage for his pudding. That’s why you didn’t actually go anywhere after the initial launch.”
     
    “Why would the bridge even have engines?”
     
    “For use as an emergency escape pod,” answered the computer. “It’s in the owner’s manual.”
     
    “Oh,” said First Lieutenant Duknerts. “Huh.”
     
    “So, uh, we murdered Tyler for nothing then?” asked Private Redshirt.
     
    “I don’t know,” said Frosty the Snowman from the viewscreen. “I thought it was pretty entertaining. And now I don’t really feel like killing the rest of you anymore. If anything I feel like hiring most of you.”
     
    “Would you?” asked Private Naughtyplaces. “Really?”
     
    “Trust me, you don’t want to work for this sackless ball of slush,” said Engineer Dickface. “He’ll just sleep with your sister and lie to you about it!”
     
    “Baby, I can explain!” shouted Frosty the Snowman.
     
    Engineer Dickface slammed her fist into the control panel, firing every weapon on the ship. Including the Emergency Inside Laser. The EIL caught Private Boxershorts square in the nuts.
     
    “My cashews!” he shouted, watching his snack disintegrate in his hands.
     
    “Why do we even have that thing?” asked Private Redshirt, head tilted and staring at the EIL.
     
    “We had it installed after the last mission. In case we had to keep Captain Tyler from doing something stupid,” replied First Lieutenant Duknerts.
     
    “Well, it’s the thought that counts.”
     
    It was at this point that the View-Matic 7000 turned a horrendous shade of exploding snowman.
     

     
    “Acting Captain Duknerts,” began Space Marshal Orr, “I’m not sure how you did it, but you managed to worm your way out of HO’s crosshairs. Blowing up Frosty and exploiting the double murder clause of their Federation contract was ingenious.”
     
    “Yes,” said the acting captain, “yes it was. And completely on purpose, too.”
     
    “But, uh, what about that whole ‘we accidentally killed Santa Claus’ thing?” asked Private Naughtyplaces. “Does Duknerts still have to do it?”
     
    “Man, fuck that,” said the first lieutenant. “I’m Jewish.”
     
    “Christmas has been 100% secular since 2012,” added Private Redshirt.
     
    “You’re all right, actually,” said the space marshal. “We’re not off the hook for that. As acting captain, Duk—”
     
    “Actually, I was thinking we get someone else to do it,” said Acting Captain Duknerts.
     
    “And why can’t you do it?”
     
    “My bone-crippling hatred of children.”
     
    “Oh, well, that makes sense.”
     
    “I hate them so much.”
     
    “I think that’s why I love him,” said Private Redshirt, clutching Duknerts’s arm.
     
    “Isn’t that sweet,” said Marshal Orr. “But we still need someone to be