Dr. Sodomy shook his head.
Dr. Porniviriyakul thought about it for a moment and said, “You know, I have no problem with that happening, actually.”
The other two men looked at each other and shrugged in indifferent agreement. Dr. Sodomy figured even if everything did go tits up, Captain Tyler wouldn’t be any more dead than he was now so why the hell not. First Lieutenant Duknerts, for his part, really didn’t give a shit about Captain Tyler at this point. He did, however, care about going double or nothing with Dr. Porniviriyakul in an effort to reclaim his hundred space bucks.
Dr. Sodomy, covered in blood, one arm halfway up the ass of Captain Tyler, the other preparing the Pony-Penetrator for insertion, paused and stared at Dr. Porniviriyakul across the medical table.
“Wait, hold on,” said Dr. Sodomy, “were we attaching this to Captain Tyler as a replacement penis or were we jamming it up his ass?”
“Which is more likely to keep him dead?” asked Dr. Porniviriyakul.
“The up the ass thing.”
“Then that’s what we’re doing.”
“Hey, fuck you!” shouted First Lieutenant Duknerts from behind the thick plastic window of the operating room.
“Fine, fine! You fucking baby,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul, giving the first lieutenant the finger. “You’re no fun.”
He turned to Dr. Sodomy and said, “I guess it’s his new penis after all.”
With the Pony-Penetrator attached, Captain Tyler was moved to recovery. What Dr. Porniviriyakul forgot to mention was that even when flaccid the appendage hung at a disturbing foot and a half. First Lieutenant Duknerts couldn’t take his eyes off of it.
“Go ahead,” said Dr. Sodomy, “touch it. Get a handful. He won’t know.”
“No thanks, I’m good. It’s just mesmerizing.”
Dr. Porniviriyakul reminded everyone, “It’s a prosthetic horse-inseminator. It’s not real.”
“Hey, wait!” said Duknerts. “He didn’t die. Where’s my money?”
“Give it time. Third planet, remember? In his never-ending quest to bone something. I still don’t see that going well.”
Captain Tyler sat up, “Oh, there will be boni— Dude! This thing is AWESOME!”
Back on the bridge, Captain Tyler was admiring his new friend when the Zdravo approached the next planet. The computer had decided that it would be in the captain’s best interest to avoid the civilization that killed him not several hours earlier.
“Sir,” said the computer, “please stop tugging on it. It might... go off.”
“So? We’ve cleaned that up before.”
“Quite, but we don’t know how much your new peripheral is packing.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
The captain began priming his piece.
“Can you at least do it in your room?” asked the computer. “Seriously, it is a BITCH getting the controls clean.”
Private Petunia Q. Purplepants, and most of the rest of the crew, lifted their hands from the control panels.
“What?” blurted Private Purplepants. “Really? How...”
“It’s been at least a week since I did it in here,” said Captain Tyler. “Calm down.”
“Everything has been sterilized thoroughly,” added the computer.
“Where has he...” began the private, beginning to hyperventilate.
“You don’t want to know,” answered the computer.
“Everywhere,” clarified the captain.
“Oh, dear God...” said the private before vomiting slightly, then covering her mouth and running towards the airlock.
“Private Purplepants,” said the computer, “that’s the airlock, not the bathroom.”
“I know.”
Private Purplepants hit the airlock release and launched herself into the clean, unsullied void of outer space.
“God damn it,” said the computer. “We’re running out of privates.”
“I seem to be doing OK,” responded the captain, once again playing with himself.
“Seriously, go to your room or I’m destroying the entire ship.”
“Fine.”
Eight hours later, Captain Tyler emerged from his room, conveniently attached to the bridge. It was a quirk of the Zdravo. No one’s quarters were more than ten feet from their primary work location. The designers were very lazy people.
Tyler walked toward his captain’s chair. A little winded, but otherwise ready to get the job done.
“Can that janitor-robot of ours breathe?” he said. “I think he might need a snorkel.”
The entire bridge turned, looked into Captain Tyler’s adjoining room, and threw up. Dr. Porniviriyakul entered and promptly did the same.
“What the hell?” asked the veterinarian.
“The captain was just bragging about his... single-handed sexual exploits,” said Private Crimsonshirt, gagging again.
“You should see the ceiling, Doc!” added the captain.
“Ah, yes,” said Dr. Sodomy, entering the bridge. “I’m afraid that’s my fault. While attaching the Pony-Penetrator we mistakenly eradicated Tyler’s testicles. I had to graft a prosthetic ballsack onto him with regenerating semen. Sounds like the little buggers are little more active than I anticipated.”
“I can feel them moving around.”
“Oh, dear God,” said Private Quarters.
“Swim, my little friends, swim!”
It was at this point that Hank entered the room.
“Got a page that there was a mess needs cleaning?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” said Captain Tyler, pointing towards his room.
“What the...”
“I got a little excited.”
“You did that?”
“Yep. Me and this little baby,” he said, grabbing at the Pony-Penetrator.
“So, that... That’s all...”
“Yep.”
Hank’s eyes flashed red. He glared at Captain Tyler.
“Say you’re sorry,” the janitor-robot demanded.
“What? No. That was awesome!”
“Say. You’re. Sorry.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t do it twice!”
“Really? No apology?”
“Nope,” said the captain. He waved the Pony-Penetrator in Hank’s face. “Look at this thing! How can you blame me?”
Hank yanked off the Pony-Penetrator and then began bludgeoning Captain Tyler with it, chanting “I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you” in an almost hypnotic fashion.
“Oh, God, the pain!” responded Captain Tyler.
Doctors Porniviriyakul and Sodomy and the rest of the crew simply stared.
“You’re not going to stop this, are you?” First Lieutenant Duknerts asked the computer.
“Nope,” she replied.
“I’m gonna make popcorn!” added Private Yvette Redshirt.
“We’ve run out of skin,” said Dr. Sodomy, attempting to bring the captain back to life once more.
Private Redshirt, still munching popcorn, looked on and said, “Why do you keep doing this?”
“What? Bringing him back? I don’t know. Morbid curiosity I suppose. Maybe he’s part cat and after the ninth time he’s done for.”
“How many is this?”
“On this trip or ever?”
“Ever.”
“Hmm...” Dr. Sodomy thought about it for a moment. “Eight?”
“You’ve rebuilt him eight times?”
“Yeah, so I guess he’ll be on his ninth life now. Maybe he’ll be able to last more than a day this time.”
“What are you using instead of skin?” asked Redshirt, trying to get a better look.
“That? That’s black felt.”
“Don’t you think you should have used white?”
“And pass up the opportunity to make him polka-dotted?”
“Point taken.”
“Wait’ll you see what I do to his dick,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul.
“What. The
. Fuck,” said Captain Tyler immediately upon gaining consciousness.
“What now?” asked the computer.
“My penis has been replaced by a Genoa salami.”
“How did you know that without even looking?” asked Dr. Porniviriyakul.
“Woman’s intuition.”
“What?”
“I know exactly what a woman will think upon seeing my penis. It’s a gift.”
“Huh,” replied the vet.
“Why is my penis a salami, doc?”
“We thought it was funny.”
“Well, yeah...” said Captain Tyler. He moved his arm to lift the sheet and get a better look at his new hardware. It was at this point that he saw his new skin.
“Why am I... polka-dotted?”
“We thought that was funny, too.”
“Were you drunk when you did this?”
“No, of course not, that would be irresponsible. Before and after, hell yeah, but not during, no. Besides, it was mostly just Sodomy.”
“Oh?”
“Dr. Sodomy. He was in charge.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, you thought we…?” asked Dr. Porniviriyakul laughing.
“Kinda.”
“No, no,” he continued. “Not us, anyway.”
“Oh?”
“While we were working on you, you were... uh, how to put this delicately…”
Dr. Sodomy barged into the recovery room, shouting, “Did you tell him yet?!”
“No,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul, “we were just getting to that.”
“Can I tell him?”
“Sure.”
“What the hell happened to me, guys?” asked a panicked, yet excited, Captain Tyler.
“You were plowed,” said Dr. Sodomy. “Anally. By a tiger.”
“A Plutonian Snow Tiger, actually,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul. “You’re carrying its babies now.”
“What?” said Captain Tyler.
“Oh, I didn’t know that part,” said Dr. Sodomy.
“Bahahahahahahaha,” said the computer.
“It’s a quirk of the Plutonian Snow Tiger physiology. They can impregnate anything and everything. Why do you think we suddenly had that influx of tiny couches in the lounge?”
“I thought we just picked up a lot of midgets,” said Captain Tyler.
“God, you’re stupid,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul.
“Bahahahahahahaha,” continued the computer.
The Zdravo slowly approached Onvindbaar Bol, a mostly unexplored planet. The crew had received a distress signal from the surface and radioed back. Something about a water shortage, everyone dying, nothing to eat but whole wheat crackers. Or something. Nobody was really paying attention.
The voice from the planet sounded feminine enough, though, so plans were made to land. Captain Tyler was still deadset on his mission. He was going to knock up something on this wasteland, God damn it. Even if he had to give birth to one of his own Plutonian Snow Tiger cubs and then shove it into a womb. Something was gonna pop something out.
“So where is this future mother of my children?” asked Captain Tyler, standing planetside and taking a bite of his Viagraburger – a burger made out of several thousand tiny blue pills, crushed into a fine paste and then grilled. It was the only thing that made his salami stand at attention now.
“According to the scanners, right over that ridge,” said Private Morgan Crimsonshirt.
“The ridge that looks like the spiky-toothed bottom jaw of something obscenely large and flesh-eating?”
“That’s the one.”
“You go first.”
“No. I’m good.”
“I don’t think you are,” said Captain Tyler, pulling a shiv from the elastic waistband of his maternity battle shorts. “And take the damn tiger with you.”
Private Crimsonshirt sighed and he and the Plutonian Snow Tiger made their way across the surface of the planet, the captain trailing behind them. They reached the ridge in a matter of minutes.
“Go on,” said Captain Tyler, waving Private Crimsonshirt on with his sharpened lunch tray.
“Fine,” mumbled the private, adding, “Dick,” under his breath.
“I heard that.”
Captain Tyler went to put the shiv away, missed, and sliced a nine-inch gash into his thigh. The tiger, smelling fresh blood, instantly darted off towards the commanding officer. Private Crimsonshirt was knocked backward by the cat and onto the pointy ridge, landing on a surprisingly cushy spike not actually like a tooth at all.
The tiger also landed on something soft – Captain Tyler’s new salami member – and promptly ate it. This shock to Captain Tyler’s system caused him to go into labor.
“That... that’s a weird feeling,” said the captain. “Private! Get me a bucket, I don’t feel so –”
Three dozen baby Plutonian Snow Tigers burst from Captain Tyler’s chest.
“Holy nuts,” said the private.
It was at this point that the entire surface of the planet began moving. The cushy spike Private Crimsonshirt had landed on revealed itself to be some kind of a bear. Triangular shaped, sure, but furry and otherwise bear-like in its physiology. And, like any bear, it ran for the fucking hills when the ground started quaking.
“Nuuuuuuts,” continued the private, trying to maintain his balance.
The private fell against another protrusion on the pointy ridge, this one harder and quite remarkably tooth-like. He looked up and saw a sky full of these tooth-like protrusions falling down upon him.
“Oh, motherfucking nuts...”
The planet was apparently not a planet at all, but, rather, a planet-sized creature. With bears on it. A planet-sized creature with bears living on it capable of opening its planet-sized mouth one hundred and eighty degrees into a flat line and then closing it again when it got hungry.
“MOTHERFUCKING NUTS!” shouted Private Crimsonshirt as he and the Plutonian Snow Tiger ran past the captain en route to the Zdravo.
Sensing the impending doom, the tiger cubs banded together to save their mother. They bit into the fleshy areas of Captain Tyler and dragged him back to the ship, gaping chest wound be damned. They made their way up the entry ramp just as it closed and the Zdravo took off.
Back on board and a safe distance away from the planet-sized mouth, Dr. Porniviriyakul, Dr. Sodomy and First Lieutenant Duknerts looked over the once again lifeless body of their captain.
“Hot damn,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul. “He’s really gone and fucked himself up this time.”
“I don’t think we have the materials to save him again,” said Dr. Sodomy.
“You’re just going to let him die?” questioned the first lieutenant.
The two doctors looked at each other and shrugged, Dr. Porniviriyakul saying, “Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Getting new parts would be really expensive,” explained Dr. Sodomy. “We’d probably need some sort of grant and I hate writing them up.”
“So this is it?” asked the first lieutenant.
“Looks to be,” said the vet.
“What if we just put an old motor where his heart used to be?” asked Dr. Sodomy.
“That still leaves no lungs,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul.
“Balloons.”
“Condoms would be more fitting,” said First Lieutenant Duknerts.
“They would be...”
“We’re all out, remember?” said Dr. Porniviriyakul. “We lost them when he flushed that dockworker...”
“The dockworker!” said Dr. Sodomy.
“Computer,” shouted Dr. Porniviriyakul.
“Yes, Siriporn?”
“We need to find Johnson’s body. Can you scan all of space?”
“All of space?”
“Yes.”
Screw the Universe Page 14