“All of it.”
“Yes.”
“Uh…” said the computer, followed by a strange popping sound over the PA system.
“What’s wrong?” said First Lieutenant Duknerts, looking around at the ceiling and walls.
“Why isn’t the ship moving?” asked Dr. Sodomy.
“We should probably have a seat,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul. “I think I broke the computer.”
“I didn’t break,” said the computer, “I just had another call.”
“What?”
“What? I’m not allowed to have a life? It was my boyfriend, Shit-Kicker. He’s a warship in the Federation. He was only in range for a couple minutes so I had to take it.”
“That doesn’t seem like the correct sense of priorities,” said First Lieutenant Duknerts.
“Right, ‘cause scanning all of space for a single corpse is a professional use of my talents.”
“But we need it.”
“For science,” added Dr. Porniviriyakul.
“Oh, well in that case...” said the computer. If she had eyes, she would have rolled them.
Private Redshirt and First Lieutenant Duknerts played cards in the common room while they waited for the computer to find Senior Dockworker Johnson. They didn’t have any money so they were forced – on Captain Tyler’s standing orders – to play strip Go Fish. Duknerts was down to his underwear.
“Wow,” said the private. “You really suck at this.”
“I told you I don’t know much about fish.”
“Not really crucial to the game.”
“Oh. So we’re not actually trading cards for fish?”
“No.”
“Ah.”
Private Redshirt waited a few moments before saying, “I really don’t know what I was supposed to have seen in you.”
“I’m sure you just succumbed to my winning personality.”
“No, I doubt that was it...”
“Then it was probably my enormous cock.”
The private turned her head to look up Duknerts’s boxers and at the other privates in the room.
“Now that you mention it...”
“Nice job, Private,” said Dr. Sodomy, walking into the common room. “Got Duknerts almost down to his nuts. Anyway, come on. The computer’s found something.”
First Lieutenant Duknerts started gathering his clothes.
“Not so fast,” said the computer, swiveling the Emergency Inside Laser toward him. “You lost. You know the rules. You gotta spend the rest of the day in nothing but your briefs.”
“You’re joking,” said Duknerts.
The EIL glowed red.
“I’m really not.”
“God, I love this place,” said Private Redshirt.
“This is such a fucked up ship,” added the first lieutenant.
Private Darkpinkshirt wheeled Senior Dockworker Johnson’s frozen corpse into Dr. Porniviriyakul’s lab. The body looked like a bloated ice pop with freezer burn. The Plutonian Snow Tigers licked at its feet.
“Huh,” said the veterinarian. “He’s in better shape than I thought he’d be.”
“Yeah,” said Dr. Sodomy. “Makes our job easier.”
“Indeed.”
“Taking Johnson’s guts and putting them into Captain Tyler?” asked First Lieutenant Duknerts.
“No,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul. “Taking what’s left of Tyler’s guts and putting them into Johnson.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Are you drunk again?”
“Maybe. But I’m still a doctor, dammit.”
“You’re a veterinarian.”
“It’s a kind of doctor!”
“I don’t see what the problem is,” said Private Darkpinkshirt. “Everything, literally everything, would be better off if we leave him dead and save Johnson. I’ve seen what he does on Facebook... So many skanks... It’s... It’s not pleasant.”
“I think you misunderstood,” said Dr. Sodomy. “Tyler’s not staying dead. Well, not entirely dead. We’re going to combine him with Johnson.”
“But Johnson hated Tyler...” said First Lieutenant Duknerts.
“Yeah, we know,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul. “This should be fun.”
“Fun?” said Dr. Sodomy. “It’ll be fucking hilarious.”
“Well,” said the first lieutenant, “at least you’re doing it for the right reasons. Wouldn’t want to think you’d create an abomination like that just because you wanted to see what it would do.”
“Hey!” said Dr. Porniviriyakul. “There’s no point in you getting all snippy with us. We could throw you into the mix, you know. Make its wang out of you or something.” He pointed a scalpel at the first lieutenant’s face.
“No. I’m good. I’ll shut up.”
“Good. Now, let’s begin,” said Dr. Sodomy.
“Hand me that puppy,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul.
Captain Hugh Van Vanderhoort Van Tyler-Johnson woke two weeks later. He was still mostly Captain Tyler, except for his torso and his third and fourth arms and his second penis. Those were all Johnson. Also, his third penis was a cake mixer. And his second and third heads were made of cantaloupes. He had a cheese grater welded into his shoulder for some reason. And his feet were replaced with roller skates. But other than that, all Tyler.
Oh, his fourth penis was a puppy. And not a puppy penis. An actual puppy.
But that was it.
“Holy cupcakes,” said Captain Tyler upon waking. “What a trip.”
His voice rang out from all the ship’s speakers.
“Is there an echo in here?”
Doctors Porn and Sodomy looked at one another with panic in their eyes.
“Did you fuse him with the ship’s computer?” asked Dr. Porniviriyakul.
“You said to!” replied Dr. Sodomy.
“I was joking!”
“How was I supposed to know?!”
“Fuck, man!”
Dr. Sodomy was promptly shot by the room’s EIL.
“Oh, this is AWESOME,” said Captain Tyler.
“Crap,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul, “you killed him.”
“So? That damn tiger of his has caused me more trouble than a pallet full of faulty condoms.”
“Isn’t the plan to impregnate the galaxy? Wouldn’t faulty condoms HELP that cause? Also, that was my tiger.”
“OK, fine, so maybe the metaphor… Wait, what?”
“You see, condoms are created to STOP pregnancy, so, by definition...”
“No, the other part.”
“The ‘it was my tiger’ part?”
“Yeah. That’s the part I found interesting. Prepare to die.”
The EIL whirred and trained itself on the veterinarian.
“Wait! You can’t kill me.”
Captain Tyler looked over at the lifeless body of Dr. Sodomy. And again. And once more. He then returned his attention to Dr. Porniviriyakul.
“Pretty sure I can, actually. You see, I’m essentially the ship now so I can do what I want.”
“Yes, but if something were to happen to you you’d need a doctor to heal you.”
“Hmm… You do have a point,” said Captain Tyler, moving one of the robot arms to his chin in a thoughtful pose. “Fine. You can live. Just keep that tiger away from me.”
“That’s going to be hard, sir. You are its baby mama.”
“Tell them I went out for a carton of milk and, I don’t know, I hate them and didn’t want to come back.”
“But they’re on the ship. They’ll see you.”
“I’m going to guess they won’t recognize me. I’m pretty sure no one will. Now, enough of this talk. I’ve got four wangs looking for vaginas to penetrate,” said the captain. “By the way, are all of these bad boys, uh, functional?”
“Indeed. We had to make a few modifications to the puppy, though. Felt a little bad about that one.”
“He’s in a better place now.”
“Your
crotch?”
“Exactly,” said Captain Tyler. “So, like I was saying... Vaginas?”
“A thought occurs. You might be, uh, too much man, or machine, for the standard vagina.”
“How so?”
“Vaginas are generally ill-equipped to accept... puppies.”
“I’ve seen it done.”
“That’s alarming on a lot of levels.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Maybe we could convince one of the female crew members to... to take one for the team. See if it’s even feasible...”
“I’ve got a better idea,” said the captain.
“Oh, God.”
“I’m going to fuck the galaxy.”
“That was already the plan...” said Dr. Porniviriyakul.
“No, you misunderstand. I’m the size of a ship now. I am quite literally going to fuck the galaxy.”
“I don’t...”
“Find me a black hole!”
“What?”
“A black hole, Porn,” said Captain Tyler. “A gravitational singularity. An inky black vagina of the cosmos.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re not referred to that way.”
“I’m pretty sure they are.”
First Lieutenant Duknerts walked into the lab and stared at the new Captain Tyler-Johnson-Cantaloupe. He suddenly had an insatiable craving for melons. As did Tyler, but of a different variety.
“So... success?” asked a befuddled Duknerts.
“In a way,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul. “Tyler’s alive, so that’s something.”
“If you say so,” said the first lieutenant with a shrug. “I just came in to let you know that we’re coming close…”
“HA!” exclaimed Captain Tyler.
“…close to a supermassive black hole. We’ll be crushed to less than nothing in a fraction of an instant.”
“That’s awfully convenient,” said the captain.
“What?”
“The captain’s new plan is to fly the ship into a black hole,” explained Dr. Porniviriyakul, “so he can ‘fuck the galaxy.’”
“That doesn’t... We won’t...” stammered Duknerts.
“Try not to think about it.”
“We’re going to penetrate one of the largest holes in the universe!” cheered Tyler, his voice booming over the intercom.
“Wouldn’t that be like throwing a hot dog down a hallway?” asked Dr. Porniviriyakul. “What’s the point?”
“The point,” said Captain Cantaloupe, “is getting into the hallway in the first place.”
“To banging stations!” he called out over the P.A. system. “Tonight we screw the universe!”
The Zdravo was never seen again.
Officially, it was a tragic, unexplained accident. Unofficially, everyone assumed Captain Tyler did something idiotic. Very few people were surprised by the news.
Years later, the Zdravo and her crew were enshrined on a plaque, mounted above a urinal in the fourth floor men’s room of Federation headquarters. Next to the condom dispenser.
Acknowledgments:
For Sarita and Monica. You put up with us for some reason, and we are eternally grateful for that.
Also, for Matt Groening and the writers of Futurama. We love you. Thank you for not suing.
About the Authors:
STEPHEN SCHWEGLER is the author of Perhaps., a collection of incredibly absurd short fiction, and Junior Assistant Regional Editor to the Manager at Jersey Devil Press. His work has been published by Short, Fast, and Deadly, Used Gravitrons Quarterly and Curbside Splendor Publishing, among others. He has two cats, lives in England for some reason, and is a violent typist.
Visit his website: www.stephenschwegler.com
EIRIK GUMENY is the author of the novel Exponential Apocalypse (you should buy it), editor of Jersey Devil Press (you should read it), and folder of origami cranes (you should ask him for one if you ever meet him). He has never been to space, but he hears it’s nice.
Visit his website: egumeny.blogspot.com
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