If it were posssssible for a Sssspace Lizard’s scalessss to blusssh, then mine would be visible from Old Home Herpeton VI. (Footnote for confused Lizardss/Humanss/Androidsss: For thossse who haven’t yet experienced the pleasure/horror/phenomenon, rather than blushing we Reptiloidsss disssplay our rut by explossssively molting our cloacal feathersss in a ssspectacularly erotic/revolting/singular fashion.) Captain Nixon of the Pussssssillanimous Patty hintsss that either his own persssonal sssssurveillance gear far exceedsss the capabilities of the I.C.U.P.'s Maritime All-seeing Yeomen corps (informally referred to as the MAY-I.C.U.P., though they generally just peep away without asssking), or there’s a sssystemss fault in my Arcturan Cone of Sssilence.
I greatly fear it may be the latter. Nixon may have caught wind of my, er, sssplenetic plans for last evening’s after-party hors d’oeuvres through thoroughly aboveboard (by Nixonian ssstandards) meanss, but there’s at least a ghossst of a chance that our, uh, noble vendors may have gained intelligence regarding our little… er, conssspiracy through my own natterings-on when I thought… [glares balefully at Lt. Gilligan] …and was in fact asssssured that my communicationsss were sssssssecure.
Be that asss it may. There’s no point in sssealing shut one’s ovipositor after one’sss final egg has crashed to the rocksss below. Let us look forward.
Yesssternight’s adventure was gloriousss, and I perssssonally don’t mind donning the formal badge of Outlaw. My clan’sss family businessss has alwaysss made a practice of obeying the local regulationsss when convenient, but some circumsssstancesss force our clawss. In the inssstance of onerousss and revenue-ressstrictive interdiction and regulation by the local powersss-that-be, both duly appointed by the official government of consssensssuss and alssso the ssstrongarmed amphibiousss thugss who would grow fat and warty on the profitsss gained by the blood, crocodile tearsss, uric passste, and toxic sssecretionss of those who perform the actual labor, in inssstancess ssuch as we jusst experienced under the boots of the late toad Don Mondo and the Coalition Squadron, well, as far as I’m concerned, if groovinessss is outlawed, then only outlawsss will be groovy. Ssso be it.
I am grateful that Sssscrapyard Pete underssstands that my beef with Mondo was entirely persssonal, ssstrictly between me and the Toad. My move againssst the Coalition more truly reflected my own political and philosophical beliefsss, and all my liplessss yap-flapping about Don Mondo did not actually reflect any hossstility toward Mondo’s organization and affiliations in general. Look at the results: I took a fair beating for taking on the coalition, and made not a thin dime for my effortsss. That’sss ideological purity to be admired, that is. In short: Ssscrapyard Pete’s a hell of a guy, and my gunsss are always and forever at his back.
Uh… in a friendly sssenssse, of courssse.
Ssso. With his kindly-offered ssstore credit in hand… (and it is “store credit” and not just credit, right? I’d hate to be hit with my first monthly billing ssstatement and find out that “credit” meanss “at 9.75% compounded daily.” But no. Mondo’s dead now.) …with credit in hand, I’m pushing full shopping cartsss with both foreclawsss:
Hull Repairs x38: $1900.
Hull Density x20: $6000.
Mondo Cannon: $5000.
Armor: $5000.
Bits & Piecesss x4: $2000.
Lucky Pence x2: $1000.
Jug of Moonshine: $4000.
Thisss should bring the Flatulent Deity’s hull integrity up to 120, her FirePower up to 33, her SHields alssso up to 33, her ENgineering up to 24, and now she’s gotta be the Luckiest barge thiss sside of the Ssscylla Nebula at 56.
I kinda wish thisss mission offered sssomething to shoot at, but with nothing but lint in my toadssskin coinpurssse, I’m obliged to take on the Cryssssstal Quessssssssssst: Outlaw Missssion #1.