Spaceships! – Episode 108
The Confederate Space Alliance (CSA) crew of the CSS Moxie are on the run from the Imperial Master Force (IMF) through the deep recesses of space…
Episode 108 – Lifestyles of the Mega Rich
(At an ice cream shop in the food court of the Imperial One, Lord Wang is being served by a pimply-faced teenager while his top adviser Chi tries to talk schematics…)
Wang: Yes, I’ll have one ice cream sandwich, please.
Teen: That’ll be four space dollars, please.
Wang: Four space dollars? That is outrageous! Do you know who I am?
Teen: Yes, sir.
Teen: That’ll be four space dollars, sir.
Wang: (turning to Chi) Can you believe the audacity of this child?
Chi: If we can just discuss our plan of attack, sir.
Teen: Do you not have four space dollars, sir?
Wang: Do I not have–My boy, I have so many space dollars it would make your head spin!
Teen: I only need four, sir.
Chi: It’s just that we’re fast approaching the last known location of the rebel ship; and if they’re still there, the General needs to know how we’re going to approach them.
Wang: I run this ship with an iron fist! I am Lord Lung Wang, son of King Hawaialekahi Wang, son of Supreme Ruler Abdullsalihehi Wang, founder of the planet Wangoria. I do not need to pay for an ice cream sandwich!
Teen: My manager will yell at me if I just give away ice cream.
Wang: But I’m yelling at you now!
Teen: It will come out of my paycheck.
Wang: I could have you hanged for treason!
Teen: Sir, there’s a line forming. If I could just have the four dollars.
Wang: (sighs) Chi, give the child four dollars.
Chi: I’m afraid I’m not carrying any cash, sir.
Wang: Well, I certainly don’t have any money on me.
(On a corner between two corridors on the CSS Moxie, chef Ray Kwong and fighter pilot Cliff Tuggs are slanging crack rocks…)
Tuggs: (hollering) Two for fives! Got two for fives here!
Kwong: I don’t think anybody’s gonna understand that lingo, Cliff. (hollers) Drugs! Get your drugs here!
(Tuggs sees Hunter Decquely — the ship security inspector — pass by the end of one corridor and clamps a hand over Ray’s mouth…)
Tuggs: Look out for the cops, man.
Kwong: Fuck the police.
Tuggs: We gotta be smart about this if we wanna clock them space dollas.
Kwong: Yeah, I guess you’re right. So how have you been gettin’ on since Decquely outed you at the Lieutenant’s birthday party?
Tuggs: (shrugs) Alright, I guess. Everybody keeps tryin’ to play matchmaker, though. Kind of annoying. There’s only like ten people on this ship. It’s nice that everybody wants me to be happy; but it’s like they can’t think of anything else to talk about.
Kwong: (glances away) Right…
Tuggs: (smirks) Who were you gonna suggest?
Kwong: (immediately turns around) See, I was thinkin’ Faried Turner; the ex-IMF pilot. He’s a good-lookin’ dude, right?
Tuggs: Yeah. But he ain’t gay.
Kwong: Oh. Well, can’t you…convert him or something?
Tuggs: Like with a gay laser gun?
Kwong: Oh my God, do they make those?
Tuggs: Yeah. But King Wang shut down manufacture; because the Underground Gay Revolutionary Party on Planet Gaylord was getting too powerful.
Kwong: Wow! …wait, are you making that up?
Tuggs: Some of it.
(Attorney Hawk LeMont straggles up to the corner…)
LeMont: Can I get a blue top?
Tuggs: Sure thing, Hawk.
(Hawk pays for a vial and goes off down another corridor…)
Kwong: We really gotta get another customer.
(That afternoon in the hangar bay, Tuggs and Cole are helping Otis clean the PL-0900 fighter jet…)
Cole: What about Jones? Is he gay?
Cole: How ’bout Miguel, the janitor?
Cole: Ollie, the Captain’s First Mate?
Cole: Hey, what about the Captain?
Tuggs: (stops polishing) I don’t even think he knows what’s going on in there.
(Inspector Decquely walks into the interrogation room and finds Hawk LeMont lighting up…)
Decquely: Oh c’mon, Hawk. Again?
LeMont: (blows out cloud of crack smoke) It’s like I’m addicted.
Decquely: I’m finding Tuggs and putting an end to this right now. (storms out)
LeMont: Can you pick me up some crack while you’re there?
(Hunter Decquely corners Cliff Tuggs in the pilots’ locker room, towel wrapped around his waist…)
Decquely: I know your secret, Cliff.
Tuggs: I think everybody on this ship knows my secret now, Inspector; thanks to you.
Decquely: Not the gay secret, I could care less about that. I’m talking about the crack secret.
Decquely: Tuggs, it has to stop.
Tuggs: Listen, Inspector. Times is tough. We don’t get paid for this work. Gotta make a buck somewhere.
Decquely: For what? We’re a revolutionary band of soldiers fighting against the empire that controls all known galaxies. We’re wanted on all planets. We’re not gonna hit a mall anytime soon.
Tuggs: I don’t know about you, Decquely; but I don’t see myself fighting this war forever. It’d be nice to have something when I retire.
Decquely: Just…no more selling on the ship. Once we find a planet, you guys can sell all you want. But not on this ship. Show me a little respect.
Tuggs: What about the lawyer dude? LeMont. He our only customer.
Decquely: We’ll have to ween him off it gradually. I’ll handle that. Here, just lemme buy whatever you’ve got left.
Tuggs: So lemme get this straight. You wanna buy crack from me?
Decquely: I know. It’s all very ironic. Here’s forty space dollars; it’s all I have.
Tuggs: Okay, boss. (hands over handful of crack vials)
(Capt. Riggs enters the locker room with a loofah and a rubber duck and spots the transaction…)
Riggs: (glowers) Inspector Decquely! You should be ashamed of yourself. Buying crack? (covers rubber duck’s eyes) Don’t look, Ducky.
Decquely: No, Captain. You don’t understand.
Riggs: I knew you’d slip up, Decquely. First you murder your partner and now you’re a filthy crackhead. Inspector! Take this man to lockup!
Decquely: I’m the Inspector, sir.
Riggs: Then…lock yourself up. And throw away the key!
Decquely: (sighs, exits locker room)
Riggs: (turns to Tuggs, smiling) You know who you should ask out? Turner, the ex-IMF pilot.
Riggs: What? He’s cute!