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Spaceships! – Episode 108

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 06/08/2012

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.

Wang:  Well?

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.

Teen:  Next.


(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?

Tuggs:  Nope.

Cole:  How ’bout Miguel, the janitor?

Tuggs:  Nope.

Cole:  Ollie, the Captain’s First Mate?

Tuggs:  Nope.

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.

Tuggs:  Oh.

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.

Tuggs:  (sighs)

Riggs:  What? He’s cute!

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