Things to Damn

(Just found this while converting over my old Blog to my new blog.  Any suggestions to add to the list are welcome!)

Things to Damn:

1. Penis
2. Science
3. Reality TV
4. Brains
5. Muses
6. Sweet Tea (apparently)
7. Moving
8. Sloth
9. My Conscience
10. Penis (again)
11. Stupid human need for sleep
12. Psych papers
13. My pitiful human speed
14. Bush
15. The other Bush
16. Women
17. Men
18. Old people
19. Basically everyone except children
20. Children
21. Work
22. Money
23. The lack of Money
24. The torpedoes
25. Cracker Barrel
26. Cracker Barrel CUSTOMERS
27. Planes
28. Airlines (Delta in particular)
29. Customers
30. Network Administrators
31. Cars
32. Rental cars
33. The TSA
34. Cat-5 Cable
35. Airports
36. Full Flights
37. Limited Standby
38. Biomeds
39. IT Departments
40. Hospitals
41. Dentists
42. The United States Postal Service
43. Downtown in General
44. Donald Trump
45. Donald Trump (Because he's worth damning twice)
46. Donald Trump (just in case)
47. Stupid people
48. Stupid pedestrians
49. Stupid drivers
50. Stupid drawbridge operators
51. Stupidity
52. "Country Fresh"
53. Students
54. The Department of Homeland Security
55. I-9s
56. Telephones
57. Starbucks
58. Haters of Sweet Tea
59. High Heels
60. Traffic
61. Catholic schoolgirls
62. (I'm really surprised it took this long)
63. You
64. It
65. Gamers
66. Fucking script errors
67. Southern Restaurants WITHOUT Sweet Tea (This tea thing may be getting out of hand)
68. Multi-National Corporations
69. Trophy Wives
70. Parents who drop young children off at the mall and then leave them for hours with only $5 in their pockets
71. Shoplifters
72. People who burn Dunkie's coffee
73. The Daystar
74. Spanish people
75. Spanish filmmakers
76. Standard-issue magic pieces of chalk
77. Harry Potter
78. Brainworms
79. Fort Myers
80. My hopelessly romantic nature
81. My car
82. My need for transportation
83. Il Trovatore
84. My current lack of a social life
85. Will Ferrell
86. The bastards attempting to cash in on my childhood dreams and memories
87. Exercise
88. Dieting
89. Waking up early
90. Politicians
91. Matt Parker and Trey Stone
92. The $@#%^&*@!~?!!!! six-week downtime gap for "Heroes"
93. There being no new Battlestar Galactica until 2008
94. MySpace.com (No!  No fucking link for them!  These bastards don't deserve any damn links to them!  ...Oh, fuck...)
95. Links
96. Yoga
97. Aching muscles
98. The D.O.T.
99. Run-off elections
100. Rehearsals
101. Tiramisu
102. The clock
103. The subjective perception of Space-Time
104. Hangnails
105. Blockbuster
106. Every day that's not a Saturday
107. Mondays, specifically
108. Taco Bell
109. Microwave popcorn that burns
110. My microwave
111. My new boss
112. Control freaks
113. A meager 24 hours to a day
114. The designated hitter rule
115. The Yankees (Gotta love Boston fans)
116. That pesky "Thou shalt not kill" Commandment (the Sixth, I believe)
117. The Man (how COULD I forget that one?  Thanks, Christy!)
118. The Internet (specifically the "freaking slow" variety, but it all bears damning from time to time.)
119. Computers
120. Vacuum Cleaners
121. Stairs
122. Lpn's with more hubris than medical sense
123. The voices in my head!

More added as appropriate

Starship Josh - the Re-Revenge of Opera Time

So, it's been a while.  My muse has been distracted by stress, shiny objects, pie, apathy, and the last season of "Lost."  But I can only suppress it for so long, and certain dark forces have inspired me to start writing again.  So, without further ado, it's time for:

Starship Josh - the Re-Revenge of Opera Time

(Confused?  Go here, or to the "Notes" section of my Facebook page.  You'll figure it out quick.)

[The Bridge is full, and everyone looks whipped.  Commander SuperEgo is slumped in his command chair, staring at the screen with a discontented expression.]

SuperEgo: ...aaaand we're home.  Thank Bob, the Sandwich Maker, another 13-hour day is done.

Emotion: [Sits up from laying face down over her console.] Ooooo...sandwich?  Can we have a sandwich?  I really, really, really want a sandwich.

S.Ego: Take it up with Id.  I'm going to go lay down for a while. [SuperEgo leaves.]

[Id is sitting in a small plastic chair in the corner beneath a sign drawn in crayon that says "Bad Boyz Korner." He jumps up excitedly and races to the recently vacated Command chair.]

Id: All right!  You heard the Commander, it's my show!  No, this "sandwich" idea sounds fascinating.  Let's get to...

[Intellect has gotten up from the floor after removing a copy of "Atlas Shrugged" covering his face.  He interrupts Id.]

Intellect: Wait, I think the Commander may have the right idea.  We've eaten plenty for today, it's only been six hours since we had that salad.  We should head to bed.

Id: Uh...yeah, sure, OK, I'm hip for sleep, let's...

Emotion: [Interrupting] Are you listening to yourself? Six hours? That's like starvation! And only a salad? That's not a meal, that's what a meal eats before someone kills it, grills it, and puts it in a bun with some of its stupid salad meal as a garnish!  Ignore the egghead, and find something dead and eat it.

Id: Um...wow. Ok, one, E, never loved you more than right now, and B, you make a strong case, so...

Intellect: That?  That nonsense?  That's not a strong case for her point, that's a strong case that a loved one should commit us.  Now, see here, we've been driving and working too long and too hard...

[Id snickers.]

Intellect: [Ignores him, continues] ...this past week, and we've only had an average of five hours of sleep per night, what with intestinal illness, rogue eyelashes in our eyes, and assorted stresses and distractions.  We need sleep!

Id: ...heh, heh, heh..."long and hard," hur hur...Ok, Brainy Smurf, I'll...

[Ego has been shaving with a disposable razor through all this.  He suddenly perks up, only half-shaved, and interrupts Id, as well.]

Ego: Oh, wait!  It's Monday!  That means we recorded the new "How I Met Your Mother!"

[Everyone looks at him blankly.]

Id: What?

Emotion:  Ego, that's stupid, and YOU'RE stupid, now let's make a sandwich!

Intellect:  No, Ego's blathering nonsense aside, we're still going to sleep.

Emotion: No, sandwich.

Intellect: Incorrect.  Sleep.

Emotion:  Sandwich!

Intellect:  Sleep!

Emotion:  SANDWICH!

Intellect: SLEEP!

Emotion:  It's sandwich, nerd, don't MESS with me!

Intellect: Oh, please!  We definitely need sleep if that's the best you can do.  It's no coincidence your name starts with "Emo!"

Emotion: I'll f*@%!#& KILL YOU!

[Emotion leaps on Intellect, scratching and biting.  They go down to the ground fighting.]

Id: [Blinks, looks at Ego.]  Um...Ego, buddy, I think I'm gonna have to go with Sid and Nancy, here.  I don't think anything you can bring to the table is gonna compete with anything they have to offer right now.

Ego: [Grins] Memory, can you pull up the picture of Alyson Hannigan from a few years back where she's wearing the boy shorts and lifting her tank top up from her abdomen?

Memory: [On Loudspeaker] Certainly, SubCommander.

Id:  It's still weird to hear her talk in Engli...whoa!

[The viewscreen changes to the picture of Alyson Hannigan.  Id grunts, and suddenly lifts up his pelvis.]

Id: ...you make a strong case, Ego.  Dirty pool, but a strong case.

[Emotion and Intellect stop fighting and look up.]

Intellect: What? Id, don't be daft. Tiny redheads are no excuse to forgo a good night's rest.

Emotion: Yeah, or a sandwich!

Ego: Suck it, guys, I think I've won this round!

Id: Uh...guys, listen, I...

Emotion:  No, YOU listen, Ego!  If I don't get this sandwich, I'm gonna...

Ego:  What?  Cry?  You'll do that anyway!

Intellect:  Now clearly neither of you are thinking rationally, because if so...

Ego & Emotion: SHUT UP!

Intellect: NO, YOU SHUT UP, YOU WHINY, UNREASONING FLUFFS OF WHIMSY!!! WE'RE GOING TO BED, AND THAT'S FINAL!!! [pants heavily]

[There's a brief moment of silence as the other three are shocked into silence.  Then Ego and Emotion both begin shouting at once.]

Ego:  Oh, so ONE brief flash of passion...

Emotion: ...SO stole that from me...

Intellect:  ...we had a PLAN, you anarchists...

Emotion:  ...can't BELIEVE we're even arguing about this...

Ego:  ...comPLETEly forgetting about Cobie Smulders, too...

Intellect:  ...we SHOULD be getting seven and a half hours, minimum...

Emotion:  ...and that's why you're all a bunch of stupid-heads!

Id:  STOP IT!

[They all blink and look at Id.]

Id: I can't TAKE it any more!  You're all MEAN!  [He begins to cry.]  I HATE you!

[Id runs off.  They three all look at each other, then all pounce on the command chair.  They begin screaming and fighting again when Commander SuperEgo walks back in, tying a bathrobe.]

S.Ego:  Hey, anyone know why Id just ran past me crying, ripped off all his clothes, then jumped in the shower? 

[Silence.  Intellect, Emotion, and Ego all look at each other, then slowly begin to set down their makeshift weapons and back away from the chair.  Intellect straightens the chair back, Emotion fixes her hair, and Ego steps up to the Commander and salutes.]

Ego: Uh...sir, I can expla...

[SuperEgo holds up his hand for silence.  Ego shuts up and stands at attention.  SuperEgo walks to the chair and looks at Emotion, and Intellect, who both look away.  He sits down.]

[Pause.  Ego stays facing away from the Commander, still at attention, while the other two shuffle their feet.]

S.Ego: SubCommander?

Ego: [Jumps and turns around.] Sir!

S.Ego: [Stroking his goatee.] I'm thinking we get ourselves a cup of "cookies and cream" ice cream, watch "Castle," and then head to bed.  Sounds good?

Ego: [Blinks] ...BRILLIANT, sir.

Intellect:  Ooo! Stana Katic is both physically symmetrical and intellectually stimulating!  I'll bet I can figure out who did it before the show reveals it!

Emotion:  ...ice cream?  I LOVE ice cream!!! [Dances]

S.Ego:  Great.  Don't know WHY Id couldn't think of this.  Make it so, SubCommander.

Ego: Sir, yes, sir!

Intellect:  I've always said YOURS is the more disciplined viewpoint, sir.

Emotion:  Yeah, Id is weird.

[Fin]

((Author's note: This is why I usually suffer from insomnia during these parts of the year.  Wee.))

Starship Josh: The Opposite of Frequency is Celibacy

            My muse, she comes for me again, that vicious, heartless mistress of my creative brain.  She has decreed there will be no food or sleep until this comes out.

            I would also like to assure my readers that this particular SJ is a completely and 100% accurate representation of what occurs in my head far too often for my liking.  I would also like to thank and apologize to R. Stevens for thieving what proved to be a far too apropos title.  Bow before his might!

            And no, without further ado, I present:

Starship Josh: The Opposite of Frequency is Celibacy

*The Bridge is crowded.  Commander Super-Ego is sitting in the commander chair with Subcommander Ego and Id flanking him on either side.  Clustered around them are Emotion, Intuition, Intellect and a whole host of other crewmen.  All of them are staring at the viewscreen intently.*

SuperEgo:  Subcommander, what do you think?

Ego:  Well, I thin…

Id: I think we should have SEX with her!

Ego: *Smacks Id on the back of the head.* Calm down, Sparky.  Eyes, can we confirm this?

*Voice of Visual on Intercom*:  Confirmed, sir.  We've checked twice, she's real.

Ego:  Auditory?

*Auditory on Intercom*:  Her words flow with a both a delicate poetry and an acid wit that leave us faint and trembling, as if a choir of angels were gently murmuring our name over a clear starlight night, sir!

*Ego blinks.  Everyone looks at Emotion.*

Emotion: *Glares around* What?!?  They asked for suggestions!

Ego: *Shakes his head, looks back at screen.* Thank you, Ears.  Hmmm… *He purses his lips and strokes his chin.* Olfactory?  Anything to add?

*Nose on intercom*:  Only that her scent is subtle, clear, yet intoxicating, and carries the subtle essence of jasmine, vanilla, and infinite promise, sir!

*Everyone looks at Emotion.  She starts looking off to the corner and whistling.*

Ego:  I see. Tactile senses?

*Touch on Intercom*:  She feels nice, sir.

Ego: *Blinks* Nice?

*Touch*: Real nice, sir.

Ego:  That's all you've got to say?  "Real nice?"

*Touch*:  Yep.

Ego:  Uh…well, all right, then, I supp…

*Touch*:  Well, real nice, and that her sensitive supple skin is so silken that satin could scarcely be so satisfying, sir.

Emotion: *Pumps fist in triumph.* I knew he could do it!  Good alliteration, Touch!

*Touch*:  Thanks, Emotion.

Ego: *Pinches bridge of nose, furrows brow.* Thank you, Senses.  Well, Comman…

Id:  Wait!  *Punches Intercom* Taste buds, we're gonna need you to…*Ego smacks Id behind the head again.*

SuperEgo:  Belay that order, Taste!  Well, Subcommander?

Ego:  Sir, I'd like to get some other opinions.

SuperEgo:  Agreed.  Emotion?

Emotion:  Well, sir, I…

Id: I think we should have SEX with her!

Emotion:  *Smacks Id behind the head."  Sir, she's a warm, gentle, compassionate person who's clearly been wounded enough before to be wise to the world, yet still passionate enough to seek love and brave enough to trust.  She's graceful, wonderful, and she makes us laugh.  Do I need to go further, or should I should you the "magical first date" plans I've just had the imagination whip up?

SuperEgo:  No, thank you, Emotion, I think that will do…

Emotion:  Maybe a rough layout of how our wedding should go?

Id:  No!

Emotion:  Perhaps what our children might look like?

*Everyone else*:  No!

*Emotion pouts*

SuperEgo: *Rubbing temple* Intellect?

Intellect:  Thank you, sir. *takes out a huge bundle of index cards.* Well, drawing on our knowledge of biology, sociology, genetics, ethics, anatomy and physiology, our dating history, social availability, scheduling, and by making several educated extrapolations vis á vis our perceived compatibility, sexual preference, respective ages, economic status, and expectations for the future, I'm compiled a nineteen-point statement which, in full, states that….

Id: I think we should have SEX with her!

Intellect: *glares at Id*…well…yes, that, essentially. * Waves index cards* Although, Commander, if I may, I believe the merit of my nineteen points still bears mentioning, namely that…

SuperEgo:  Yes, thank you, Intellect, another time, perhaps.

Ego:  Hmm…Intuition?

Intuition:  I think we should ask her out.  Maybe.

Ego:  Thank you, Intuition, succinct and too the point as always.  *Sighs* Well, I suppose for fairness, and the sake of the official record, we should ask…Id, your thoughts?

*Silence*

Ego:  Id?

*All look around.  Id has disappeared.*

Ego:  Id?

Id: *off to the side.* Hee, hee!

*All look.  Id is over in the corner, not even looking at the screen, playing with a Koosh ball on a rubber lead, bouncing it up and down from his palm to the floor.*

Id:  Boing boing boingy boingy boingy boing boingy boing boing…*Looks over, sees everyone staring.* Boi…Um… *Stuffs Koosh in pocket, hastily looks back towards the screen.* Uhh…Yes, what they…ahh…well, clearly I think we should…

Ego: *Scrubs face in frustration* Yes, thank you, Id.

Id:  No, wait, I'm ready now!  Ask me again!  I've got it pat!  Heh, heh, pat…Uh, I mean, Got it!  Completely focused now!

SuperEgo:  The moment's gone, Id.

Id:  Awww…darn!

Ego:  Well, sir, after careful review of my colleagues' thoughts and opinions, I would conclude that we should ask her out as a start to a sincere, concerted effort to carry out a romantic and sexual relationship with the subject in question.

SuperEgo: *Nods* I concur.  Well, it's settled!  Now, let's get cracking!  I going to need some good date ideas, Imagination, and Verbal, let's get cracking with the words we'll need to ask her out!  For now, Legs! *Punches Intercom* Forward march!

*Pause.  Nothing happens.*

SuperEgo: *Looks Confused.  Punches Intercom button again.* Legs?

*Static*

SuperEgo:  What in…

*Looks around.  Over off to the side, sees Anxiety's massive, towering form holding a massive drink in his hand.  He's holding it slightly behind himself while his arms are folded.  The glass has tipped, so it's pouring over a panel that says "Intercom Relays.  Keep clear of liquids!"*

SuperEgo:  Anxiety!

Anxiety: *looks down* Oops. *Tries to wipe off console, but smashes it instead."

Insecurity: *Comes lumbering in from below.* Hey, guys, check this out! *Trips and falls, smashing a crate marked "Witty Remarks" to splinters, destroying its contents, and dropping a massive jar filled with dark slimy things, which begin to escape everywhere.* Aww, darn, my catalog of our personal flaws!

*The chaos worsens*

SuperEgo:  Catch them!

Intellect:  Remain calm!  Remain cal…*smash*

Anxiety:  Oops.  Careful, tiny.

Intuition:  Insecurity, man, I think you should…

*CRUNCH bang tinkle tinkle SMASH*

Intuition: …well, never mind.

Ego:  Stop!

Anxiety:  Hey, Insecurity, catch!

Ego:  I am not a baaaAAAAAALLLLLLLLAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH - *THUD*

Insecurity:  Oops.

SuperEgo:  Inhibitor Squad!  On the double!  We need to a quick rein on these emotions!

*Tasers fire*

Emotion:  AAAAIAIAHGHGHHEEEEEE!!!

SuperEgo:  Not Emotion, you imbeciles, THOSE - *Smash*

Insecurity:  Hey, man, I think you sat in something.

Anxiety:  Gross.

*A scene on unimaginable carnage, chaos, destruction and personal injury ensues.  When it's over, SuperEgo in sitting in what remains of his smashed chair, painted yellow from head to toe, Ego is stuck headfirst in the wall, Intuition is wandering around with a bucket crammed over his head, Emotion is sprawled senseless in the shattered pile of witty remarks, and Intellect is huddled over a small pile of confetti on the floor with a giant roll of tape.*

Intellect:  My notes!  My beautiful notes!  It's ok, it's just a few small rips!  I can fix it!

Intuition: *Pats bucket with hands* I think someone turned out the lights.

Emotion: *singing quietly off-key* Oh, won't you…take me…to…Funkytown…won't you take me…Funky…

SuperEgo: *sits quietly, tilting to the left in his off-base chair.  He scowls grimly, and then deliberately presses the intercom button, which squeals with a burst of static and then clears.* Sensory Command?

*Captain of Sensory Command*: Sir?  For the love of God, what happened?

SuperEgo:  Oh, nothing much.  Can I get a status update on our target?

*Sensory Command*:  Uh…yes, sir.  Let's see…

SuperEgo:  Yes, Sensory?

*Sensory Command*:  Umm…well, sir, it seems our target is confiding her romantic problems to us, values us as a friend, and is currently dating another woman.

SuperEgo:  I see.  Thank you, Sensory Command. *Releases Intercom button.*

*Memory's voice chirps on the intercom*:  Same as last time, Commander?

SuperEgo:  A little better this time, I think.  I assume we've already started dealing with this in our usual manner?

*Memory*:  *Hiccups* Naturellement, Monsieur!

Id: *Walks across, bouncing his ball between his hand and the floor* Hee, hee!  A Koosh on a rubber band…Genius!  Boing, boing, boing, boingy, boing…

Starship Josh: The Uncharted Territories

I have no words.  The only way I can express myself is through...

Starship Josh: The Uncharted Territories

[The Bridge is a wreck.   The viewscreen is trashed, the commander's chair is upended, and the chained door to the subconcious has "SuperEgo is a dumby-face" spray-painted on it in big orange letters.  Warning lights are flashing on and off.  Commander SuperEgo enters, looking beaten and disheveled.]

SuperEgo:  What... [Blinks at the harsh lights]  What the hell?  What's going on?  Someone give me a status report!

[Silence.  Somewhere, something is dripping.  The silence makes the sound seem much louder.]

SE:  I don't...what's going on?  Visual!  Give me a scan!

[The viewcreen flickers on, unsteady and blurry.  SuperEgo stares, uncomprehending.]

SE:  That's...that's not our room.  Where are we?  What happened?  [Squints]  Visual, look down!  [Scan moves down]  ...wait.  Where the HELL are our pants!?!?  MEMORY!

[Silence]

SE:  [Looking worried]  Memory?  Memory!  Can you hear me?

[Static, then female voice stir over intercom.]

Memory:  Kaptein ? Jeg har en banan.

SE:  [Blink]  What?

Memory:  Jeg ikke forstår. Det hadde rett her, siden en andre.

SE:  I don't understand!  That's not French!  What's going on?  Memory!

[Voice floats out of debris on one side of room.]

Ego:  It's not good, sir.  It won't work!

SE:  SubCommander!  Where are you? 

E:  Here, sir, under what's left on the morality meter and the inhibition-control relay.

[SuperEgo rushes over and starts moving wreckage.]

SE:  Ego!  For the love of all that's holy, what's going on?

E:  Nick's birthday party, Sir.

SE:  [Pauses, looks horrified.]  What?  Nick's...that' impossible!  This much damage isn't done after a Songy party!

E:  I'm afraid it's the truth, Sir.

SE:  Well, what happened?

E:  I couldn't really say, Sir...I was in control when we went to dinner at Kobe, returned home for Brit to change, and when Jesse gave us a ride to the party.  After that...Well, Sir, I'm afraid I'm not sure.  I vaguely recall Id laughing, but beyond that everything is a blur.

SE:  And Memory?

E:  No good.  Whatever she's speaking, it's not French.  I think we may have sailed into uncharted waters, sir.

SE:  Don't you start using nautical expressions on me, SubCommander!  Don't you dare!  Memory!

Memory:  Je ja'ta', 'naDev SoH ghoS, 'ach ghobe' naDev lIj DIchDaq tah!

[Both look up, blinking.  Both look at each other.]

E:  Was that...Klingon?

SE:  [Shakes head, goes back to clearing debris off Ego.]  No time for that now.  What about visual memory?

E:  [blinks]  Didn't think of that, sir.  Good idea.

SE:  Well, that's why they pay me the big money.  Visual!  Put what you have up onscreen!

[Viewscreen flickers again.  The two watch as SuperEgo keeps working.]

SE:  [Grimaces]  Cleavage in a white shirt, with no view of the face.  Typical Id.  Do we have a view of her face?  That could be anyone.

E:  Not anyone, sir.  That configuration looks new.  I don't think it's anyone we know, sir.

[SuperEgo stops clearing and looks down at Ego, hands on his hips.  Arches an eyebrow.]

E:  [Clears throat.]  Umm...I think, sir.  Can't be sure.

SE:  [Shakes head, resumes clearing.]  You've been spending too much time around Id.  What else, Visual?

E:  "STOP!  Josh's cup" with a backwards "J" at the bottom of a cup.  Did we write that in the bottom before we started drinking?  Seems dangerous.

SE:  I think we wrote it on the bottom of the OUTSIDE of the cup, SubCommander.

E:  Oh.  That makes more sense.

SE:  More Cleavage shots.  Damn it, Id!  We need faces!

E:  Bonnie...Kris...Brit...Angie, Tori, Jen...and I think that's Tai.

SE:  [Glares down at Ego.]

E:  [Gulps]  Sorry, sir...I have been on Id patrol more often lately, sir.

SE:  [sighs]  No, no...that's all right.  And it appears that's the end of the file.

E:  Sorry, sir.

SE:  No, it's all right.  Sensory control, keep scanning.  Movement control, get us up and moving.  I want a detailed look at our surroundings.

E:  [Watching screen.]  A notebook with some poem and the rules of "Circle of Death..."

SE:  Oh, joy.

Memory:  一根香腸提高我！

SE:  [Blinks, looks up]  Thank you, Memory.  What else, Ego?

E:  A damp carpet, the smell of cleaner...

M:  Vis steekt!

SE:  Someone made a mess, no doubt.

E:  The fridge...hands, can you open tha...Holy shit!

SE:  [Whistles]  That's a LOT of booze.

E:  Yes, sir.  Let's see...our phone, wallet, and key on the counter...a girl sleeping on a mattress, I'm not sure who, and...that's it, sir.

SE:  [Grunts, shifts last of debris.]  All right, that will do.  Up, SubCommander.

[SE helps Ego up.]

E:  Thank you, sir.  OH!  There's Nick!

SE:  Excellent!  Let's ask him to fill in the blanks, shall we?   Maybe our third ever blackout from drinking need not remain a mystery, eh?

[Some time later...]

[SE and E sit on the bridge.  Ego is clutching his hand over his mouth, clearly horrified.  SuperEgo's face is tight, his eyes screwed shut, rubbing his temples.]

SE:  Oh, Lord, why couldn't our third ever blackout from drinking remain a mystery?

E:  We did what?!?

SE:  I guess we'll have to call them the four rules, now.

E:  We did WHAT?!?!?

SE:  Three rules, depending on how much we took off before, possibly.

E:  WE did WHAT?!?!?!?

SE:  Oh, there's even pictures of us passed out.  Fantastic.  Hmmm...seems you were right about the female guest list, SubCommander.

E:  ...did...we...what?

SE:  SubCommander!

E: [Blinks, looks at SuperEgo]

SE:  Plot a course.  Let' go get some breakfast.

E:  [Numbly nods, getting to his feet.]  ...sir.  Yes, sir.  [Runs off.]

SE:  [Shakes head.]  Good lord.  Some party.

Memory:  You can say that again, Sir.

SE:  Thank you, Memo...wait, what?

Memory:  Жаль?

Starship Josh: Birth of a Nation

We all know what time it is. Time for:

Starship Josh: Birth of a Nation

[The Bridge is, once again, trashed.  Crew members are scattered about, and Id is passed out in the command chair in his underwear, with his pants on his head like a jester hat.  Commander SuperEgo walks in.]

SuperEgo:  I...see.  I'm pretty sure I know what happened here, but...Memory?

Voice of Memory on Speaker: Oui, Commandant?

S.Ego:  [Slap hand to head, Sighs]  I want to be surprised.  I'm not, but I want to be.  Ego?

[Ego enters the bridge.  Rising out of his shirtcollar, traveling up his neck to his right cheek, is a giant penis drawn onto his face in black ink.]

[S.Ego and Ego look at each other]

S.Ego:  So...still won't come off?

Ego: [Right eye flutters, inhales]  No, sir.  Id used permanent ink.

S.Ego:  [Gestures to Id in the command chair] Well, by happy coincidence, I need Id dragged back to his quarters.  Think you can handle that?

Ego:  Oh, I think so, sir. [Takes out Sharpie, flicks off the cap.]  I think I'm extremely capable.

[Grabs Id's ankle, hauls him out of the chair, begins dragging him off the bridge.]

Ego: I need an inhibition squad with a case of permanent markers to Id's chambers, on the double! [Leaves]

S.Ego:  Ego, I don't think...oh, never mind.  All right, Memory, what happened?

Memory:  Dans deux mots, Pat Songy.

S.Ego:  [Grunts]  That'll do it.  Anything interesting happen?

Memory: Bien, oui. Nous avons parlé, nous avons bu, nous avons joué "le Cercle de Mort" et "Jamais J'a Jamais," alors...

S.Ego:  Wait, wait..."Cercle de Mort," Circle of Death I got, but...Jamais, that's ever or never, J'a, j'a...I have! "Ever I have Nev..." Oh, fuck.

Memory:  C' est que j'ai dit.

S.Ego:  We played "Never Have I Ever?"  Do we still have friends?

Memory:  Non, non, c'est bien. Songy et Branwyn ont joué, aussi, donc nous étions dans la bonne compagnie.

S.Ego:  Those two played, too?  Oh, good, at least we had company in our shame.

Memory:  Oui, Monsieur. C'est un morceau brouillé, mais il y a quelque chose des chiens et de la corde et le séminaire.

S.Ego:  [Moment of Silence]  I have no idea what you just said and have decided that I am happier this way.  To celebrate, I am shutting us down again and engaging the napping protocols.

Senesors:  Commander!  Cell phone ringing detected at 11 o'clock!

S.Ego:  That's still too early.  Hands, ears!

Auditory:  Commander, it's Kris!  She wants us to bring her Benadryl at work!

Ego on Speaker:  Let's do it, Sir!  We all love riding in like a white knight!

S.Ego:  Ego, do you truly propose to play the white knight while wearing, what [checks visual], a doo-rag, sunglasses, and an "Also Available in Sober!!" shirt?

Ego:  ...Sure, why not?

[Pause]

S.Ego:  There's no part of this plan I don't love.  Let's do it.

*Fin*

Starship Josh: The Aftermath

I'm exhausted, thirsty, cranky, out of sorts, and the only thing my brain is urge me to do is write.  The.  Fuck.  What.  Damn my Muse.  Damn her for steering me to:

Starship Josh:  The Aftermath

[The bridge is a wreck.  Intellect is passed out on a rail wearing a lampshade, Emotion is naked with party hat covering her business, unconscious on the bridge floor, Intuition is propped up against a wall, staring straight ahead and blinking, and Ego is asleep in the Commander's chair, with his shirt off and wrapped around his head like a ninja hoodie.]

[Id walks in.]

Id:  Hey, guys, I'm getting all kind of weird readings and I was wond...

[Looks around, blinks]

Id:  Whoa.  What the fuck?  [Seeing Intuition, crosses to him]  Hey, man!  Innie!  What the hell happened?

Intuition:  [stares straight ahead]  Too much...too much...

Id:  Well, that's nice and coherent.  What...

[The door to the bridge bursts open.  Commander SuperEgo comes in, wearing the bottom half of a bear costume, and enormous polka-dot bow tie, and wielding a 3 Iron.]

SuperEgo: Я разобью язычников!

Id: Holy toes of Moses!  [Ducks as SuperEgo swings at him.]

SE: Я поражу Вас со сладкими рассолами, пока Вы не смягчаетесь! Кто послал Вам? Действительно ли это были белки? Я ненавижу белок!

Id:  Right!  Time to use my head!

[Headbutts SuperEgo, who falls down unconscious.]

Id:  OK...can ANYONE hear me?

Memory:  Good...well, morning, technically.  What's up?

Id:  [Looks up, blinks.]  Wait, we're not drunk?

Memory:  If we were, don't you think you would have been involved?

[Pause]

Id:  Ok, that's a good point.  But, Member-me, why's everyone passed out?  What's with Starey McMumble over there?  And why the FUCK is the Commander screaming in...what, I don't know, Klingon?

Memory:  I think it's Russian, Id.

Id:  Same thing.  So what happened?

Memory:  Well, we worked a 17 hour day yesterday, which consisted of our normal job, and then working a Phil Lesh concert from 6 to 1:30.

Id:  Who's Phil Lesh?  Some kind of polka accordian player?

Memory:  Not so much, no.  Phil Lesh was the bass guitarist of "The Grateful Dead."

Id:  [Looks around, whistles]  A few things begin to become clear.

Memory:  Right.  We basically spent seven and a half exhausting hours earning almost a hundred bucks in cash by running around the theater, handing out flyers in the heat, stopping a total of seven people from getting stoned in the bathroom, helping burn about 900 CD's, having three middle aged men begging for some of the "little red pills" from our Excedrin bottle, staring at a large number of women with a staggeringly few number of supportive female undergarments, getting sloppily kissed on the neck twice by a drunk, hairy old man in a wheelchair, inhaling the scents of over 2,000 unwashed hippies smoking god knows what in a packed auditorium, moving and loading a truck with thousands of dollars worth of very, very heavy sound recording equipment, and having a seventy year old man stopping us repeatedly from putting eye drops in our dry, contect-lens-wearing eyes, telling us, "No, no, son, don't do that, that shit will fuck you up!"

Id: [Takes out a Sharpie marker, walks over to Ego]  So, basically, after long hours, intense physical labor, hilarious situations, extreme arousal followed by extreme repulsion, no sleep, and what I can only assume is a massive contact buzz, we have had all our reserves drain, rendered exhausted, strung out, brittle, and altered by the most dedicated, disciplined, responsible, and hardworking parts of this ship.

Memory:  C'est vrai, Id.

Id:  [Blinks]  And we're drinking?  But I didn't...

[Sees SuperEgo whispering into a console.  Steps over and punches him out.]

Id:  AND we've been driven to drink!  This is awesome!  [Finishes drawing a penis on Ego's chest and neck and shoves him out of the chair onto the floor.]

Memory: Impressionnant, Id?

Id:  Hell yes, whatever you said!  We're tired, starving, horny, in an altered state mind, and we've got cash!  [Plops in command chair]  And no one else is here to dispute my command!  Navigation, plot a course to the nearest strip club!

[There's a dull thud, and Id, still grinning, slumps out of the chair, falling face-first onto the ground.  Commander SuperEgo is standing behind him with a dented 3 iron.]

SE:  Отменить...[cough]...uh...Cancel that order, Navigation.  Set a course for bed.  No, first the bathroom.  I want the hippie spit washed of our neck, then bed.

Memory:  Bon avoir vous soutient...[Cough]...um...good to have you back, Sir.

SE:  Thank you, Memory.

Memory:  [Hiccup]  Bonne nuit, Commandant.

SE:  [As he is passing out] Хорошая ночь, Memory...

Beatings and "The Starship Josh"

This is less my muse biting me and more a savage, angry need to rant and scream at myself in order to purge some nasty self-recrimination.  If it also happens to be humorous or entertaining, I can't be held accountable for that.

Starship Josh:  The Trail of the Captains!

[On board the Bridge of the Starship Josh.  Super Ego and Ego are sitting side by side, chained to their chairs.  The assembled crew stands around them, murmuring.  Id, Emotion, and Intellect stand before them.]

Intellect:  All right, all right.  Quiet down, everyone, and we'll begin.

[The Bridge quiets.]

Intellect:  We will now begin the formal inquiry into the actions of Commander Super Ego and SubCommander Ego on May 24, 2006 C.E., specifically focusing on the alleged charges of gross negligence and conduct unbecoming an officer, stemming from their actions, or lack thereof, at the Central Downtown Post Office, from 10:30 am to 10:45am.  Although this is necessary, it is with heavy heart that we proceed in this...isn't that right, Emotion?

Emotion:  I'll fucking kill you two!  [Lunges for S. Ego and Ego.  Intellect pulls her back.]

Intellect:  Veritably stricken with melancholy, then.  You stand accused by Emotion, obviously, and...

Id:  She had a FANTASTIC ASS!

Intellect:  ...Id.  Id, please, try to contain yourself, you'll have a chance to speak later.  We will now review the evidence.  Memory?

[Voice of Memory on Speaker]:  Yes, Intellect?

[Everyone blinks, stares up at Speaker.]

Memory:  What!?!?  It's the afternoon on a Wednesday, you assholes!  We're still at work and haven't had a drink since Friday!  We're sober and I speak just as clearly as the rest of you!  Now, do you pack of mouth-breathers want to make something of it, or do I replay the scene from last night's "House" where the guy's testicle exploded?!?!?!?

[Everyone hisses]

Intellect:  Ummm...no, thank you, Memory.  Let's just review the time in question.  What happened?

Memory:  We had just entered the...

Id:  She had a FANTASTIC ASS!

Intellect:  Id!  Once more and I will call the Inhibitor Squad!  Please continue, Memory.

Memory:  Hmm...we had just entered the main office of the Post Office after picking up our workplace's mail from the P.O. Box.  As we took our place as third in the line, we noticed the subject of this inquiry picking at a dispenser of tape.  She was a young woman in her early 20's, with red hair, and a fair complexion.  As I said, we noticed her just as she was bending over...

Id:  She had a FANTASTIC ASS!

Intellect:  Right, that tears it, you are REMOVED!  I want a fully armed Squad up here double time, there is NO excus...wait.  No, no, wait, that actually works.  Id, your point is, if out of turn, well taken.  Please continue, Memory.

Memory:  Libido's alarms went off, Id increased the heart rate, and the Protocol and Decorum department was desperately sending signals to Visual trying to get them to break off their too-lengthy scan.  At this point, the subject turned to us and asked, "I'm sorry, but you give me a hand with this?  My nails just won't do the job."

Emotion:  Tell the court HOW she said it, Memory!

Memory:  The subject spoke in an educated and musical British accent.

[The crowd gasps.  Ego's head sags, S.Ego's head is thrown back defiantly.]

Emotion:  It was like being verbally caressed by poetry!

Ego:  We're screwed.

S.Ego:  Shh!

Visual:  Her hips were dunes in moonlight!

Olfactory:  She smelled of orange blossoms!

Tactile:  Her fingertips on our hand sent a chill up our spine!

Id:  She HAD a FANTASTIC ASS!!!

[The mob devolves, surging forward, flailing and kicking.  Intellect shouts for order as the Inhibitor Squad rushes in, breaking up the melee.]

Intellect:  All right, all right!  Now, we are going to do this in a civilized fashion!  Memory, please continue!

Memory:  The accused gave orders to assist her unraveling the tape.  We let three other people pass us in line as we proceeded to assist the subject in securing her package, the Internal Editor suppressed Id's comment about securing our package, and then the subject began to search around for a pen to fill in a customs form.

Intellect:  And?

Memory:  ..we offered them ours.

Intellect:  We offered them ours!  And did we get that pen back?

Memory:  The subject offered, after we had completed our business and walked up to offer her our good-byes and best wishes.  We noted that she was not finished with it, and declined.

Intellect:  We let her keep the pen!  And then?

Memory:  The accused directed us to our workplace's truck and we left.

Id:  She had a FANTASTIC ASS!

Intellect:  And there it is, fellow crewmembers.  We left.  We did not inquire as to her name...

Memory:  ...or her phone number.

Emotion:  Or if she wanted to have dinner!

Id:  Or her stance on casual group sex and whether or not she had a flexible, open-minded roommate!

Intellect:  We simply left.  Now, Commander, SubCommander, how do you respond?

S.Ego:  [Inhales, resolved]  I can only express my regret and sorrow that the situation turned out as it did.  It is my deep, sincere wish that next time a situation like this develops, Ego and I possess the strength and courage not to lose control of the bridge to usurpers and mutineers.

Intellect:  Usurpers?  Mutineers?  What do you mean?

[The massive steel doors to the subconscious in the back of the Bridge creak open, the heavy chains that bind them shut swing open with broken links.  The bridge shakes as footsteps crash like thunder as two huge figures step out.]

S.Ego:  Intellect, I believe you remember Anxiety and Insecurity?

[All look up.]
[And up.]
[And up.]
[Almost...almost...there.  Stop.]
[That's their names on their chests.]
[Keep going up.]
[Up...little more...aaaaaand stop.  All look in Anxiety and Insecurity's cold, dark eyes as they smile with jagged maws of shark, serrated, razor-sharp fangs.]

Anxiety:  Hey.

Insecurity:  'Sup?

Intellect:  [Hangs head]  Ah.  The old monsters of the Subconscious won again, then?  Very well, Id, let them go.

Id:  Let them...but, Intellect!

Intellect:  No, I've lost battles to them too.  No matter how strong we are, we will, all of us, still occasionally fall before these behemoths.  [He releases Ego and S.Ego.]

Emotion:  True...and we can either beat the Commander and the Subcommander up about it, or we can forgive ourselves, and hope we do better next time.  Memory, let's make sure we remember this for next time, ok?

Memory:  Absolument, émotion!

[All blink]

Id:  [Whispering into the intercom]  That's right, we'll drown them!  Stomach's already got the two doubles of whiskey, and...uh...

[All glare]

Id:  I'm gonna have to call you back.

S.Ego:  Come on, crew, let's get back to work.  We'll get pizza for lunch.

Emotion:  We LOVE pizza!

[Everyone goes back to work.  Id slumps in the former prisoners' chairs.  He looks up at Anxiety and Insecurity.]

Anxiety:  Come on, Id.  We're gonna go throw rocks in the Imagination.

Insecurity:  You in?

Id:  I guess.

[They head off towards the doors to the Subconscious.]

Id:  Her ass really was fantastic, though.

Anxiety:  Yep.

Insecurity:  True.

Anxiety:  She kinda smelled like flowers, too.

Id:  ...what?

Anxiety:  ...uh, I meant she had nice knockers.

Id:  Yeah.  Yeah, she sure did.  She sure did.

[Fin]

Author's note:  I'm not making this up.  This shit happens in my head ALL THE TIME.

Starship Josh - An Interlude

[Onboard the Starship Josh, in a small room, dimly lit by one overheard light shining down into Id's eyes.  Id is tied to a chair.]

Super Ego:  Come on, Id.  Let's just make it easier for all involved.

Id:  Fuck y...

[Ego hits Id.]

Ego:  Sorry, Commander.  I slipped.

S.Ego:  It happens, SubCommander.  So, Id, what do you say?  Are you going to say it, or is Ego going to get clumsy again?

Id:  Fu...

[Smack]

S.Ego:  We can do this all day, Id.  I think you'd...

[The intercom chirps]

[Voice of the Ear]:  Captain?  Our alarm for our Taquitos just went off.

Id:  What?

S.Ego:  Oh, really?  Thank you, Ear.

Id:  Ummm...aren't we going to get that?

Ego:  [Shrugs]  Eh.

Id:  But they'll burn!

S.Ego:  We'll live.

Id:  But it RUINS the taste!

Ego:  Oh, well, it's too bad we're tied up here.  If we were DONE, well, we could just go get them out right now...

Id:  Fine!  Fine, you bastards!  "I will not take joy in the misfortune of others."  Happy?

S.Ego:  I don't know...seemed to lack feeling.  Ego?

Ego:   Definately subpar.  Emotion would be hurt.

Id:  I WILL NOT TAKE JOY IN THE MISFORTUNES OF OTHERS!!!  NOW LET ME GO, YOU ANAL WARTS!

[They cut the ropes.  Id runs out]

Id:  Feet, get moving!  Memory, where's the oven mitt?

Memory:  Dans le droit placard!

Id:  Got it!  [Runs upstairs]

Ego:  Sir, couldn't we have just called up Remorse rather than torturing Id?  It might have been easier.

S.Ego:  Well, we could, but really, where's the fun in that?

Ego:  But...Sir, isn't that finding Joy in the misfortunes of others?

[Pause]

[Smack!]

Starship Josh: Patient is Confused and Prone to Wandering

My Muse has bitten me with venomous, barbed, pointy teeth.  I must write, or suffer its wrath, which is terrible, brutal, and slow.

Onward.

Starship Josh: The Da Vinci Code, Blasphemy, and Emergency Runs

[The crew is sitting around the bridge.  Commander SuperEgo walks in from his quarters.]

SuperEgo:  Ok, I'm back.  Status Report?

SubCommander Ego:  We've purchased a ticket for the 10:00 "DaVinci Code."

Intellect:  We are currently in Bennigans and have just ordered an Apple Crumb Sizzler.

Emotion:  We LOVE Apple Crumb Sizzler!

Intuition:  I think that's the Apple Sizzler now.

Ego:  We're waiting with Corey, Toivoh, Rene, Tai, Stephanie, Jerry, and Brit.

Emotion:  We LOVE...

S.Ego:  Yes, yes, we know.  Now, wher...

Id:  And we've been accused of being Blasphemers!

[Pause]

S.Ego:  Blasphemy?

Id:  Well, OK, no, not really, but sort of!

[Pause]

Intellect:  Yes...ah...wait...no, yes...Hmm...I think...yes.  That makes no sense.

Id:  OK, we were buying tickets, and some guy had a truck that said "STOP BLASPHEMY NOW!" and that was LIKE being accused, and you KNOW how must I enjoy taunting the emotionally frail, so...

S.Ego:  Yes, thank you.  Have we consumed any alcohol?

Voice of Memory on the Intercom:  Seulement quelques-uns boivent, Commandant. Un Amaretto pourrit et deux Whiskeys.

S.Ego:  ...aaaand that answers that.  Anything to chime in, Memory?

Memory:  Bien, en fait, oui, monsieur. Nous avons oublié d'acheter un billet pour Britanny.

[Everyone blinks]

S.Ego:  Anyone catch that?

Ego:  I'm stumped.

Emotion:  I'm so confused!

Intellect:  It's a simple linguistic code...

Intuition:  I guess we should should hold on to something, man.

S.Ego:  Wait, what was that, Intuition?

[The bridge lurches forward, everyone tumbling to the ground.  Id remains seated in the command chair.]

Id:  There!  There it is!  Grab it!  Dig!  Dig, hands!  Mouth!  Prepare for creamy sweet goodness!

Anxiety:  Um, actually, that DOES sound a little, um, well, you know... gay...

S.Ego:  What the HELL!?!?  Visual?

[Voice of Visual on the Intercom]:  Sensing Apple Crumb Sizzler, Commander.

S.Ego:  Ah...of course.  Carry on, ID.

Memory:  Commandant! Vous êtes calme oubliant complètement le billet du Britanny! Nous n'avons jamais choisi un en haut!

S.Ego:  All right, what the Hell?  Does anyone know what Memory's trying to tell us?

Intellect:  I believe I caught "Britanny," Sir.  Perhaps a reference to our roommate?

Intuition:  I think it's important, Commander...

Ego:  Hmm...what's a "billet," Intellect?

Intellect:  Well, it usually denotes a small, uniform piece of wood, or a segment of a large piece of a greater group, like firewood or a shingle.  It can also refer to a place to quarter troops, and the verb version thereof.  In its archaic form, it was a short note or letter, which has been expanded, in several Romance languages, to include bank notes, official notices, or tickets...

S.Ego:  Tickets?

Ego:  Brittany?

[Horrified pause]

All:  We forgot to buy Brit's Ticket!

Id:  Verbal, this is Id.  We're going to need a profane utterance.

[Voice of Verbal Center]:  How about "Oh, Fuck!"

Id:  Love it!  Thanks, let's go with that.  [Turns to crew.]  It's all taken care of, guys.

S.Ego:  [Shoves Id out of chair] Legs!  Stand!  We need to get the hell out of here!

Emotion:  I'm so upset!  HOW could we forget this?

Ego:  No, Stomach, I don't care if we just ate, you're going to have to hold it in!  We're kicking this puppy into overdrive!  Commander!  We're getting queries as to what's wrong!

S.Ego:  We need a convincing lie, fast!

Id:  Verbal?

Verbal:  "I'm going to the bathroom!  Seriously!  Back in a flash!"

Id:  Genius!  Guys, it's all set.  No one will suspect a thing.

[Ego and S.Ego look at each other]

Ego:  Sir, really, the sad part is that he believes that.

S.Ego:  Let's just get Brit's ticket.  I'd really hate to have to activate the "ducking and avoiding" protocols tonight.

Memory:  Jésus robinet-dansant Christ sur un baton...ce qu'un paquet d'idiots.

The Starship Josh rides again

Fan-TASTIC.  I'm feeling great today, boys and girls.  Now, it is time for the Starship Josh to convey this greatness unto you all.  You might want to put up a sheet or something.

Starship Josh: Great C'thulu and Bone Marrow

[Setting:  Central Command. There are party streamers on the ceiling, confetti on the controls, a dainty, strappy red stiletto heel shoe on the corner of the Commander's chair, and the viewscreen is playing a transmission.  Enter Commander SuperEgo.]

S. Ego:  Wow...That was...wow.  Some night.  Wait...what's this?

[Looks at screen.  Ego comes in.]

Ego:  Good morning, sir.

S. Ego: [Grunt]  Maybe, Subcommander.  We'll see after we wake up "Bonnie and Clyde" next door and go donate platelets.  What's this on the screen, do you know?

Ego:  Hmm...not sure, sir.  It's pretty degraded.  A dream, probably?

S. Ego:  Yes, but what does it mean?  It's pretty screwed up.

Ego:  I'm not sure, sir.  Were we drinking last night?

S. Ego:  Memory?

[Memory on Speaker]:  Oui, commandant?

S. Ego:  We were drinking.  What was the damage?

Memory:  Divers "Amberbachts" et beaucoup de "Meyer's Dark Jamacian Rum."

S. Ego:  Fantastic.  Do you know anything about this dream, here?

Memory:  Non, commandant. Peut-être vous devez demander le subconscient?

[S. Ego and Ego's eyes grow wide.  They look at each other, then back at a huge, quadruple-locked, and heavily chained door in the back of the room.  Massive, blocky, engraved letters are carved into the door: ONLY THOSE ELEMENTS TIME CANNOT WEAR WERE MADE BEFORE ME, AND BEYOND TIME I STAND.  ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE.]

Ego:  The Subconscious?  Umm...Commander, is that wise?

S. Ego:  Well, it IS responsible for dreams.  Come on...courage, Subcommander.

Ego:  Sir!  Yes, Sir!

[They tentatively approach the door, slide open a slit in the forbidding door.]

S. Ego:  ...hello?

[Hollow echoing]

Ego:  Umm...Subconscious?

[Echoes]

Ego:  Well, Sir, we tried, obviously he's no...

VOICE:  SLOBBER granfnaf BLURBLEL GRooWLlwWoll maaarxxswek!

Ego:  [Leaping into S. Ego's arms]  Sweet marshmellow Jesus on a stick!

[S. Ego glares at Ego.  Ego gets down, straightens uniform.]

Ego:  ummm...Sorry, sir.

S. Ego:  Subconscious, we're sorry to bother you, but we were wondering if you could tell up what the screwed-up dream we're looking at here means.  I'm afraid we can't understand what you're trying to get across.

VOICE:  burb FLNARPH yolowasrgm SAcmLOPVMNAAAAKeFEf [slobber] meeeeekeeelp ROOOAAAAAAAAAAAGGGG!!!

S. Ego: I...see.  [Turns to Ego]  Did you catch any of that?

Ego:  Not really, sir.  we'll probably need a translator.  Who can communicate with the Subconscious?

S. Ego:  Well...Id takes cues from the subconscious all the time, he probably understands the subconscious perfectly.  I suppose Intuition, might have some ideas, too.

[Pause]

Ego:  I'll go get Intuition.

[Five Minutes later]

Intuition:  Hey, guys.  Hey, Memory, you listening in?

Memory:  Bonjour, Intuition!

Intuition:  Whoa!  We were drinking last night?

S. Ego:  Apparently.  Intuition, could you look at the dream playing on the screen?

Intuition:  I guess so, Commander.  Whoa!  That's kinda messed-up.  What's it mean?

S. Ego:  Well, that's why we called you.  We were hoping you could communicate with the subconscious and figure out what he's trying to tell us.

Intuition:  Sure, why not?  [Walks to tiny slit in huge door]  Hey, big guy, what's up?

VOICE:  MooaoaarrRRRAAAUWWN!
Intuition:  Nice to talk to you, too.  So, big guy, about this dream here...

VOICE:  PWQAAARnnnK!!  mllluuuUUUUuAAAAUYYYYBWASSnnn  [slobber] EEEEEEEEE!!!

Intuition:  Oh, ok.  Go on.

VOICE:  ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssFN'ANKsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Intuition:  Cool.  But how does that relate to the first part?

VOICE:  WAALLLAAAAKKKMuurr   tTaGeFxWvOOOOOOOOUUUUXXXx zzzaLLLLLLKItA MarN ak SQUP SBIIIIGGLE    CORt aaaaAAAhn MAK vish forn <ROAR> shaggAAATH MELORN VIP SOURN GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWAAGHHHH!!!

Intuition:  OK, gotcha.  Where you going with this?

VOICE:  FNAP.  Muuuyyyyrn! GORR kaaaLALnk.

Intuition:  Wow, OK!  Thanks, big guy.  I'll talk to you later. [Slides slit closed as VOICE grumbles and fades out.]

S. Ego:  Well?  What does it mean?

Ego:  What did he say?

Intuition:  Well, approximately...

S. Ego & Ego:  Yes?

Intuition:  He said, "PANTS!"

[Pause]

S. Ego:  Pants.

Intuition:  No, you have to inflect up.  Imagine an exclamation mark at the end.

Ego:  Pants?

Intuition:  No, exclamation mark, not a question.  Also, sound it out like there are two syllables, like pah-ANTS!  Accent's on the second part.

Ego:  Oh!  Like, "PANTS!"

Intuition:  There you go!

S. Ego:  [Slaps forehead]  I'm...I'm gonna go lie down.  Ego, go wake up Dave and Kris and set a course for the Blood Center.

[Several hours later]

S. Ego:  Well, that was a good thing we did.  SubCommander?

Ego:  PANTS!

S. Ego:  [Glare]

Ego:  Ummm...sorry, sir.  Everything's accounted for.  Elbows are reporting some discomfort, be we appear to be fine otherwise.

S. Ego:  Well, fantastic.  Let's corral our light-headed "Wonder Twins" here, and we'll...

[Voice on Speaker]:  Holy GOD, Sir!  We have an emergency down here!

S. Ego:  Whoa!  Calm down, son!  Ego, any alerts on sensors?

Ego:  [Checking]  Negative, Sir!  All five senses reporting situation as normal!  Who IS this?

[Voice on speaker]:  Sorry, Sir, this is Bone Marrow Control!  We have a code Red down here!

S. Ego:  Calm DOWN!  Now, quickly but calmly!  What's the problem?

B.M.C.:  We have a massive, critical shortage of platelets down here, Sir!

S. Ego:  ...

B.M.C.:  I'm not sure what happened, Sir!  We were sitting on a surplus that built up last time we had an unexplained shortage, and now it's all gone again!  I don't know HOW this keeps happening, sir!

S. Ego:  Bone Marrow Control...

B.M.C.:  Sir, I'm getting really worried!  It seems like every two or three weeks we just come up short!  Sometimes we even lose a whole pint of blood!

S. Ego:  Bone Marrow Control, if you'd just listen...

B.M.C.:  No time, sir!  We're going to get to work making EVEN MORE platelets than last time!  Hah!  I'd like to see how we could end up with a shortage after THIS!

S. Ego:  But... [Speaker clicks off]  Subcommander, do you think they even READ the memos I send out?

Ego:  Well, sir, they are...

[Id runs in]

Id:  Hey, Supes!  The B.M.C. was yammering something about needing supplies or some crap, what the hell are you doing up here?

S. Ego:  It JUST so happens that...

Id:  No good, I'm already bored.  Anyway, out of the chair, I'm gonna go get us food.

S. Ego:  But I...[Id picks him up, sets him next to chair]

Id:  OK!  Tell Intellect to start calculating lunch costs!  Eyes, full scans!  Appetite, I need options, coordinate with eyes!  Hands, feet, get this car moving!  Libido, Wit, Mouth, I need a compliment for Kristina's breasts STAT!  Move, people, Move!

S. Ego:  [Shakes head, turns to Ego]  Subcommander?  What does one say when faced with such utter nonsense?

Ego:  ..."PANTS!"

The continuing adventures of Starship Josh

Some of you may remember this, back on the Daily Songy. Others of you may not have any clue what this is about...and that's ok. Just know that I'm insane, and the muse has struck me...struck me like a cranked-up pimp strikes a ten-dollar ho coming to him with a five. Anyway.  The following was based on a true story.  No animals and only one circus midget were hurt in the making of this production, and the little bastard had it coming.

Starship Josh: The Apfel Korn Incident

[Setting:  the break room in Josh's brain]

[Emotion, Intuition, and Logic are sitting in the break room chatting.  Commander Super Ego comes in, sits back in chair, puts feet up on divan.]

Emotion:   Commander!  I'm so happy to see you!

Logic:   Commander.

Intuition:   I guess you're off for the night, Sir?

S. Ego:   Good evening, everyone, happy Friday the Thirteenth.  All's well?

Logic:   No disruptions that I have observed, Commander.

Emotion:   Hee hee!  I feel great!

Intuition:  [Shrugs]  I guess everything's ok.

S. Ego:  Splendid.

Logic:   Sir, if I may be so bold, if you're down here, who's in command?

S. Ego:   Don't worry, Logic, all's well.  SubCommander Ego is in charge.  It's Friday night, and we thought it would be nice to arrange a schedule to let each of us have a Friday night every other week.

Logic:    [frowns] Well, Sir, that sounds all well and good, but creating such a schedule would take foresight, planning, and organization of our schedule, and I don't recall being asked to assist with such a task.

S. Ego:   No, it's all right, Logic.  It was late last week, and you were busy with that Sudoku puzzle.

Emotion:   So I helped!

Logic:   What?  You let EMOTION help with a task like this?  Commander, doesn't that seem like a truly bad idea?

S. Ego:   It's not THAT hard, Logic.  A simple on-again, off-again schedule, with each of us switching weeks.  It's easy!

Emotion:  Ooo!  That would have worked, too!

[All blink, look at Emotion]

Logic:  What.

S. Ego:   Ummm...Emotion?  What do you mean?  Isn't that how you did it?

[Sound of toilet flushing.  Ego steps out break room bathroom washing hands.  Stares at S. Ego, and vice versa]

Emotion:  Well, really, both you and Mr. Ego have been so rattled and stressed out this week, Sir, so I thought BOTH of you could use a night off!

S. Ego:   Emotion, who did you leave in charge on the schedule?

Emotion:   Well, Id said...[Everyone else rushes out the door]

[The Bridge.  Everything jolts to the right as S. Ego, Ego, Logic, Intuition, and Emotion rush in.]

S. Ego:   What the Hell?

Id:   Ahd-miral!

S. Ego:   Commander, you mean!

Id:   *Hic*  Whatever.  Hey, what are you doing here?  Aren't you off tonight?

S.Ego:   Never mind that, Id!  What the hell are you doing?

Id:   What?  Nothing!  You know, nothing MUCH...I mean, we were a little thirsty...

Ego:   Commander, sensors are showing elevated temperature, all the inhibition protocols are down, and the inner ear...well, the crew in there seem to be singing old Simon and Garfunkel tunes.

S.Ego:   What!?!?  Are we DRUNK?  Memory!

[Voice of Memory on Speaker]:   Oui, commandant?

S. Ego:   We're drunk.

Ego:   We have a bottle of Apple Schnapps in our left hand.  It appears to be empty.

S.ego:   Id...please explain what's happened here...and be convincing.

Id:   Captain, it's ok.  I just got a little thristy, so I grabbed the bottle of Schnapps from the fridge before hitting the shower.

S.Ego:  We were drinking in the SHOWER?!?!?

Id:  Yeah, but it's totally cool.  Anyway, it was tasty, so  I kept drinking.  I got us clean, dressed, walked around the complex, made some phone calls...

S.Ego:  What?  Walking around?  Phone calls?  While DRUNK?  Who did you call?

Id:   Uh, well...you know, no one, REALLY...

S.Ego:   Memory!

Memory:   Jess, Petit Jen, notre mère...

S.Ego:   Our MOTHER!?!?!  You called our MOTHER while we were drunk?

Id:   Chill, S.E.!  We weren't that drunk, ok?   I looked at the bottle before I started drinking it...it's only 20 proof!  10% alcohol, that's nothing!  It's barely hard liquor!  It's like, what, a couple of beers, tops!

Logic:   Not quite correct.

Id:   Hummina stooffita huh?

Logic:   [Into headset] Eyes, can we focus on the label?  No, left.  The other left.  The real left.  Your left.  WE HAVE THE SAME LEFT, DAMN IT!  Ahem.  Yes, thank you, there.  See, Id?  It's not proof, it's 20% alcohol by volume.  Also, that was a practically fully liter, wasn't it, Memory?

Memory:   Vous êtes corriger, Logique!

Logic:   That's...splendid.  That would translated to roughly 200ml of pure alcohol.  Since roughly three beers makes a liter, and beer is only 5% average alcohol by volume, we've drank roughly the equivalent of 12 beers in the past two hours.

Id:   Uhh...is that a lot?

[Voice on Speaker]:   Hey, every-*Hic*-body, hey, guysh...thish ish the boysh in da Inner Ear, and we jusht wanted to shay...we love you guysh!

Intuition:   It's enough.

[Voice]:   No, like, *hic* really, guysh, you guysh are the BESHT...whoops!

[Crash]

Id:   Well!  Uh...you guys are back, now, so I'm just gonna go hit the hay!  Have a good night, everyone!

[Id runs out]

Ego:   Commander?

S.Ego:   [Sigh]  Screw this...set a course for home.  We're all going to bed.

Ego:   It appears we can't, Sir...a girl just sat in our lap to keep us from leaving.

Id:  [Runs in]  And I'm back!

S.Ego:  [Sigh]

The Beginnings of "Starship Josh"

Ok...so, after my post, certain individuals have informed me that while my previous post was vaguely entertaining, they don't understand some things, like why there's people in my head (no, wait, actually, most everyone just kind of assumed that to start,) what cracked out night of madness and altered brain chemistry spawned this, and why the hell my memory speaks French.

Well, the Starship Josh started in a haze of drunkness, sleep deprivation, and general surreal hallucinations after a night of very hard drinking...the night, in fact, that I found "the Tequila Cow." If you're interested, go ahead and read on to see the first four "Starship Josh" episodes. If you have better things to do than read the insane ramblings of a lunatic, just move on, and no one will judge you...you bastards.


Episode 1  "Jackie Chan so Drunk Right Now"  (Posted first on March 2, 2002)

[A scene in Josh's head]

Ego: Jesus GOD! The Commander's on his way! Everyone, stations, stations! Tuck in your shirts! Sweep that under the console! And what the hell is that?

[SuperEgo enters]

Ego: Commander on deck!

[SuperEgo surveys commander center]

SuperEgo: Hmmm...Good morning, Subcommander.
E: Good morning, Sir.
SE: Quite a state we're in this morning, I see.
E: Sir, yes, sir.
SE: Mmm...you have a report?
[Ego hands over report, SuperEgo double takes]
SE: Is this number correct?
E: By our best counts, Commander.
SE: [Hits console] Memory! Come in, Archivist!
Archivist: Bonjour, Commander! Comment ca-va?
SE: Our memory is French?
E: Ummm...only temporarily, sir. At some point last night, we kept trying to translate everything relayed between the body parts to French and then retranslate it back into English.
SE: Good Lord...Memory, are these figures I'm seeing correct? NINE shots of 99 Proof BLueberry schnapps, bottle lobotomized?
A: Oui, Monsieur.
SE: Six shots, Jose Cuervo Tequila, bottle lobotomized?
A: Oui.
SE: Four shots of Captain Morgan's Spiced rum, plus one bowl of Special brand on the rocks?
A: Oui.
SE: "Various" Smirnoff Ices? No exact count?
A: Non, Monsieur.
SE: An Amberbacht, an Amaretto sour, and a shot of Creme de Cacao?
A: Si, Senor?
SE: What?
A: Uhhh...Désolé, Monsieur...c'est toujours assez désorganisé en bas ici...J'ai géré pour épargner tout qui est entré hier soir, mais ce n'est pas vraiment dans l'ordre au courant...
SE: Fine, get to work. SuperEgo out. [Leaves console] All right, who exactly was in charge last night? And what the hell is thing I'm reading about a "Tequila Cow?"
E: [Coughs] Uhh...Id MAY have gotten loose last night, Sir.
SE: [Pause] Excuse me?
E: Well, sir, you had taken the night off...
SE: AND YOU THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO LEAVE THAT MANIAC TO ROAM FREE? IS THAT WHY "I AM THE YETI" IS WRITTEN ALL OVER THIS GODDAMN REPORT!?!?!?!
E: [Hangs head] I'm sorry, sir...we were able to keep him mostly contained...
SE: [Checks report] You opened the arms cabinet?
E: Yes, sir...the Inhibition team's numbers were weakened, so I had to resort to some extreme measures...
SE: Stun Batons?
E: Id met two midgets named Steve and Andrew while searching the complex for the Tequila Cow.
SE: [Checks report] Tear Gas?
E: Bryan kept insisting that he was drunker than us, sir, and Id considered it a challenge. The reft of us felt we had to do something to keep the stomach from more Alcohol, so...
SE: Riot Gear, Fully-automatic weapons loaded with rubber bullets, and the authorization of Brutal force?!?!?
E: Id got to the libidio.

[Momentous pause]

SE: Sweet Zombie Jesus...was anyone harmed?
E: Thankfully, no, sir. But we did win a game of chess!
SE: What the HELL does that have to do with anything?!?
E: Umm...I'm not sure, sir...We're still pretty drunk right now.
Ensign: Sir? Report from Stomach...it says that if it doesn't get something substantial that doesn't tear up its lining soon, it's coming up hear and murdering every single on of us.
SE: [Sigh] Fine, fine. Legs, set a course for the Kitchen, and then we'll initiate the Showering protocals.



*End*

Episode 2 "The Continuing Voyages" (First posted March 9, 2002)

SuperEgo: [Snore, start] Huh? What? I'm awake!  [Looks around]  Navigation, where the hell are we?

[Voice chirps on intercom]

Navigation: Hello, Commander...we are currently at Corey's Mother's place.
SE: What? Since when? Who gave the order?
N: SubCommander Ego, Sir. He placed us on Autopilot right before we left work.
SE: [Scrubs face] Right, right...I had gone to get some rest, and figured nothing much would happen getting home...Well, all right, let me just find some pants and I'll...

[Sudden loud wailing alarm]

SE: What the HELL? That's the hunger siren! Stomach, what the hell is going on?
Stomach: [Over intercom] FOOD! MUST DEVOUR!
SE: Helpful, thank you...Now, why the alarm? Ego wouldn't gear the body up like this, he'd just start looking around and asking Corey...So who...[Eyes widen] Oh, sweet tap-dancing zombie CHRIST!

[SuperEgo runs for Central Command, yanks on pants]

[In Central, Id sits in the Commander's chair]

Id: Mouth, commence drool! And lick those lips, I want this to go down without a hitch! Stomach, prepare for food! Repeat, prepare for food! Adrenal glands, I need all you've got! This one could be difficult...
SE: [Bursts in, followed by Ego] All right, hold up! Belay that order! What the HELL are you doing, Id?
I: Commander! Hi! What's wrong?
SE: Id, you have exactly TWO SECONDS to explain what's going on before I call the Inhibition Swat Team.
I: Commander, we haven't refeuled in 26 hours...I'm merely securing us nourishment.
SE: [Blinks] Oh...well, I suppose that IS your job.
I: Precisely. Don't worry, Commander, everything is under control.
SE: Well, fine, fine...I suppose I misjudged you. Carry on, Id. [Turns to leave]
Ego: Uh, Commander...
SE: WHAT!?!?
E: Sir, I can't detect any foodstuffs in the immediate vicinity.
SE: What? Id, what are you planning on eating?
I: It's right there, Sir. Visual? Put it on the main screen.
SE: That's Monica!
I: It's a small, fleshy mammal. Full of protein and nutrients. So, if you'll excuse me, Commander...
SE: MONICA IS NOT FOOD!!!
I: Really? Pity...well, there are those two backup targets right there, so, no loss.
SE: Corey and Songy are ALSO not edible!
I: No, it's all right, Sir! I checked first! Logic?
Logic: Actually, Commander, nothing states that they are NOT, in fact, edible. They are composed of a similar substance to beef, mutton, venison, and any number of other mammals that we have consumed. There are potentially negative consequences, such as potential legal difficulties, potential illnesses, and cleanup to consider, but nothing rules them out as inedible.
Emotion: No! We love Corey, Monica, and Songy! Don't eat them!
SE: Thank you, Emotion, and don't encourage him, Logic. You know he just uses you to justify his actions and then otherwise ignores you. Id, you CAN'T eat those three.
I: But, Sir, I think we can! By my scans, we're larger, stronger, and have a greater reach! They're quicker, but the enclosed space of the apartment will eliminate that advantage!

[Everyone stares, stunned]

See? I thought ahead. Now, prepare to grapple on my mark, and mouth, I want you to land on the jugular on the first shot, so standby!
SE: Belay that! [Punches intercom] System, this the the Commander, stand down Red Alert. Repeat, stand down Red Alert. Olfactory, start scanning for VIABLE foodstuffs, and I need a heavily armed Inhibition Squad up here five minutes ago.

*End*

*No Monicas, Songys, or Coreys were harmed in the making of this episode of
Starship Josh. The same cannot be said for Joshs, but hey, that's what
makes the show funny.*


Episode 3 "The Search For Inspiration" (First posted on May 26, 2002)

Author's note: I swear to god this is all true. Enjoy.

_________________________________________________________________

[Commander SuperEgo walks down the halls of the mind towards command]

SuperEgo: I always seem to drift off in the last few hours of work. [Checks update screen] We're in the car? Damn it, I specifically left Ego strict orders to keep me posted. Memory Archives?
Memory: Oui, Commandant?
SE: How long have we been moving?
M: Onze minutes, Commandant.
SE: I see...headed home, I trust?
M: Non, monsieur. Apparemment, nous sommes dans chasser de mode.
SE: What? Damn it, Archive, do you HAVE to keep speaking in French? How the hell can we act on what we've done if we can't understand a God-damn word you're saying?
M: Je demande pardon, Commandant. Je n'ai pas retrouvé toujours pour la quantité massive de Tequila que nous avons consommé au le "Birth-Tacular" au Patrick Songy.
SE: The Tequila's STILL THERE? Archive, how much did we DRINK?!?!
M: Nous avons trouvé la vache, monsieur.
SE: [Sigh] Right. I'm going to forward command...maybe someone THERE can tell me what's going on in a way I can UNDERSTAND.
M: Baisez-vous, monsieur le cochon!
SE: What?!?!
M: ...rien.
SE: I didn't think so.

[SuperEgo walks into forward command]

SE: What the...SubCommander!
Ego: Yes, sir?
SE: What the hell is going on?
Ego: I just got here, sir...apparently adrenaline levels are up, and visual and olofactory acuity has been heightened to maximum levels.
SE: Muscle reaction time is up, heart rate has increased...what is...

[Yellow alarm lights start to flash.]

SE: Fight or flight has been triggered? Ego!
E: Sir, blood is flowing to arms and shoulders. Testosterone and Aggression levels are through the roof! We're getting ready to take SOMETHING down!
SE: Blood flow, visual and olofactory up, adrenaline...we're stalking something. Logic!

[Logic steps out from side room]

Logic: Sir?
SE: I left you in charge here for an hour! What's going on? Who's in charge?
L: The Id is, sir. It is customary in such situations.
E: Sir, we're parking! Legs have DEFINATELY been given a "stalk" command!
SE: ID!?!? What?
L: Id IS the most primal one of us, sir...he's the most qualified to bring down prey.
SE: Prey? What prey?!? Id!

[Id steps out from side room]

Id: Supes! Hey, what's up?
SE: What's going on, Id?
I: Orders, sir. Logic and Emotion gave the command. I'm just doing what I do best.
SE: Emotion? What? [Emotion steps from room]
Emotion: Oh, yes sir...I'm so sorry, but those people on the phones were just NASTY today...They were all demanding "Lion King" tickets, and we didn't have what they wanted, and some were just RUDE, sir...I...I...[sniff]
SE: Oh...well, yes, there, there, but I don't underst...
Em: And so I wanted to go out and SLAUGHTER EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM! CUT
OUR THEIR SPLEENS WITH DULL SPORKS AND DANCE ON THEIR INTESTINES! I WANTED
TO SHAVE THEIR CATS AND FEAST ON THEIR EYES!!!!

[All take a step back.]

Em: [Pants] WHAT!?!?!
All: Nothing.
M: Rien.
Logic: I suggested that this plan might prove unwise, Sir. I put forth the idea that maybe alternatives could be found.
SE: [looks alarmed] Alternatives? What alternatives?

[Voice of Stomach over intercom]

Stomach: Oh, they called me, sir. They thought I might be able to provide a substitute GUARUNTEED to make us feel better.
SE: Stomach, is that you? What are you babbling about? We're geared up to take down an elephant here! What kind of prey could possibly require this much energy?

[Voice of Eyes]

Eyes: Id, we have our target in sight!
I: Excellent! Bring it on-screen!

[All look]

SE: We're in Publix.
Id: Yes, sir.
SE: What's that?
Id: Our target! Be careful, all! It could be dangerous!
SE: That's...
L: The chilled, soldified lactation of the common bovine fortified with assorted sweeteners and flavoring, both natural and artifical, sir.
SE: ...Ice cream?
Em: Oh, yes, Commander! Yay!
SE: We are stalking ICE CREAM?!?!?!?!?!?!
Stom: Yes, sir! The best comfort food there is! Delicious!
SE: We don't use this much physical energy if we're in a fight!
Id: Ummm...Ice cream has many natural defences...
SE: Like WHAT!?!

....

Emotion: It's cold, sir! It always annoys me, holding it!
Logic: It is fattening, Commander.
Id: Those stockboys there are JEALOUSLY defending their prize! Look, they're moving in to protect it!
SE: They're attaching prices!
Ego: Oh, I know! It always hides! We can NEVER find the kind we want, it's camoflouge is UNDEFEATABLE!

[All applaud]

SE: Et tu, Ego? That's it. You're all a disgrace. This is, without a doubt, the most irresponsible management of resources I've ever seen. You all are a disgrace to officers of this body. I'm going to retire, and I want to see a MAJOR improvement in performance and responsibility in ALL of you, do you understand me?

[All look ashamed]

All: Yes, sir.

[Commander SuperEgo leaves. Everyone looks crestfallen, starts slowly heading back to stations]

Id: well, that's that. Cancel yellow alert.

[Door opens]

SE: Id?
I: Sir?
SE: Edy's Mint Chocolate Chip. On the double>
I: [Look of joy] Sir, yes, SIR! Red alert, crew! Legs, CHARGE!

*End*


Episode 4 "The Last Gasp of Conciousness" (First posted on March 14, 2003)

[Commander SuperEgo walks onto the Bridge, looking at the destruction before him. Sighing, he walks over to his chair and sets it upright. He sits.]

SuperEgo: Subcommander?

[The Subcommander Ego appears on the main screen. It has a crack along the right side and a chocolate milkshake at the bottom. Ego is dressed in riot gear.]

Ego: Commander, Ego here.
SE: Have you contained ID yet?
E: Almost, sir. He's injured several members of the Inhibition squad, but we almost have him back in his place.
SE: Are you new Cattle Prods working?
E: Yes, Sir. But you know Id...he's very adaptable. He turned several of our own weapons to his own advantage.
SE: That'll happen. What about the Libidio?
E: I've programmed the routine for a cold shower.
SE: Good work.
E: How's Central Command, Commander?
SE: You can guess, SubCommander. Memory?
Memory on overhead speaker: Oui, Commandant?
SE: God DAMN it, Ego, haven't we fixed that yet?
E: Umm...not yet, Commander. But our french is getting better...
SE: Christ. Back to your task, SubCommander.
E: Yes, Sir. Ego out.
SE: All right, Memory, let's hear the Damages. Do you have full files on the events of this evening, complete and in order?
M: Nous faisons, Commandant. Aimeriez-vous que les j'ait traversé?
SE: Please do.
M: Très bien, Commandant. Pour commencer, nous avons consommé trois boissons alcooliques.
SE: Only three? Liver will be pleased.
M: Il est, Monsieur. Nous avons embrassé cinq femmes, quatre hommes, et un nous ne sommes pas sûrs de.
SE: Christ...Five women? Four men? and one we couldn't tell? Well, it was the Castle. Did we kiss any of them against their will?
M: Umm...pas vraiment, le Commandant. Seulement Bastion et Petit Mikey.
SE: Poor Bastards. Well, they probably provoked Id, looking all sexy and desirable. What else?
M: ...en fait, le Monsieur, il y AVAIT un incident de "l'Heure sans les Chemises."
SE: Fuck..."Shirtless o'Clock?" Were there any law enforcement officials involved?
M: Non, Commandant. C'était pendant la chanson "Baby Got Back."
SE: [Sighs] I see. Was anyone injured?
M: Non, Monsieur.
SE: Were we banned from the Castle?
M: Non, Monsieur.
SE: Bien...I mean, great. Well, then, at least there's that. I'm going to start the sleep proto...wait a second. What this playing in the Imagination theater? [Hits button on console]
M: Non, Commandant! La mère de DIEU, non!

[The Screen flashes on. A scene begins to play from the Imagination.]

SE: [Arching eyebrow] Interesting. Id's work?
M: Ummm...Libidio a aidé. Monsieur, je vraiment pense que vous devez le tourner de...
SE: How many are there in this scene, Memory?
M: Les femmes, soixante-dix trois, dix-neuf hommes, et sept qui ne pourrait pas deviner. Commandant...
Ego: [Flashing into "picture in picture"] Sir? Libidio just went beserk! What's going on?
SE: All right, Ego, just turned on a lovely dream orgy he and Id cooked up. I'll just it down now...[looks at the screen while reaching for the off button.] Wait a second...[Looks closely] Is that...
M: Baise-moi! J'essayais de vous dire, le Monsieur...
SE: [Looks closer] Oh, God...is that our GRANDMOTHER!?!?!
M: DIEU NOUS AIDE TOUT!

[Alarms go off]

E: Commander! Libidio just collapsed, screaming in agony! Klaxons just went off in the Stomach!
Stomach: [On overhead] Commander! Alert! Forced rupture in progress! SHE'S GONNA BLOW!
Sensory officer: Sir! We've just lost signal from eyes, and they're bypassing Central Command, sending signals to the hands to claw them out! What's going on!
SE: MEMORY! Subroutine 54-Delta-Omega, on my mark!
M: Le sous-programme prêt, le Commandant!
SE: ENGAGE!

[Screen changes. Lights dim, and slowly, alarms diminish]

E: Commander? Libidio seems to be uncurling. He's quiet, and it looks like he's going into a trance.
SE: Secure him, Ego. He should go peacefully.
E: Sir! [Picture in picture blanks out]
SE: Stomach? Status.
Stomach: Commander...wow. All levels normal. Status green across the board.
SE: Senses?
Sensory Officer: Signal from eyes returned, Sir. Signal to hands has stopped. Thank you, Commander.
SE: Wonderful. Perfect end to the evening. [Looks at the screen] God bless those Chinese acrobats. In the meantime, start that cold shower. I'm damn well going to bed.

*End Transmission*