The Omega Cloud

Captain's Log, stardate.... Who knows? The Moon has been traveling through an area of space with a lot of pretty red, and violet cloud thing-a-ma-jigs. It has the quality of making you yearn for all of the good things that were so readily available on Earth. All of those giddy, silly--in my case, wooden headed, cigar store indian--school girl urges bubble over in a froth of unquenchable desire. Side Note: Commander Koenig looks so delectible (DELETE), I mean decisive when his uniform is cleaned, and pressed. It's a rare treat. I can say that can't I? Sure I can? No one gives a honk to read this any way.

But I digress. What was I saying? Oh, yes. The area of space we're in--it's so gorgeous. Just staring out the viewport makes me think of fruit bowls. It's been quiet so we decided that now was the time to remove the late Antonio Dean Verdeschi's belongings from his quarters. Our security chief of old, having received a horrendous comeuppance by an alien intelligence vastly superior to his own. Then again, he wasn't a tough act to beat when it came to that, or so I'm told. We desperately need the space in his quarters to open a new Puzzle Marathon Tournament Hall.

Our tale of danger, and destitution began when two of our moonbase custodians, Horatio Milkdale, and David Reilly (recently demoted), were given the task of removing Verdeschi's beer still from his quarters. Little did we know, intelligences vast, and keen, and unsympathetic, regarded our moon with envious eyes....


After concluding her status report, Helena Russell capped her very best, Made In Denmark, ink pen, and layed it across the wizened red leather cover of her journal. She returned to munching her pasteurized, proceesed Limberger Cheese Food sandwich, crowned with anti-social heaps of onions. Bob Mathias looked up from his celery sticks, and thought he was going to die.

"What's wrong?" Russell said, obliviously, chewing as she spoke. She reached for her jug of powedered milk concentrate, and gulped it like a road house biker, twin trails of the crap dribbled down her chin, and onto her uniform. "Bob???" She said, embarassed. "Don't stare." She giggled drunkenly. "It's rude."

Mathias fainted from nausea, but Helena Russell didn't notice. She was half-way through with her nasty Limberger Sandwich when she did notice that an odd--but not altogether unpleasant--stench was coming through one of the ceiling grates.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, " she said, wiping her chin with her forearm, and craning her lead neck upwards, a centimeter at a time.


In the late Tony Verdeschi's quarters, the battle had been joined.

"Let me get this straight, me good fellow." Big Dave Reilly said, his tool belt jingling merrily at his side. "You're 'askin me--a man of precocious means--to empty all of the spoiled crap out of this contraption."

"Yes." The senior janitor said blandly. "I'm asking you to empty it all out. Preferrably into these gallon canisters for orderly disposal."

"What then?" Reilly laughed impossibly.

"Then, we will probably flush it down the toilet." Milkdale said, unaffectedly.

"No, I mean, what am I supposed to do after that?" The Irish Buckaroo inquired. The joke was getting better all the time.

"Then you will take the ratchet set that I gave you, and dismantle the apparatus unit, by unit. The modules will then be cleaned by you, and sanitized by you. They will then be returned to their rightful place in Hydroponic's Section."

"Be'gora." Reilly said, scratching his chin. "And what--pray tell--will happen if I refuse."

Milkdale shrugged.

"Then you most certainly will be thrown upon the mercy of Commander Koenig. I have been told that if you do not cooperate, your next placement will be in the Catacombs of the Moon; mining salt peter with only a tea spoon, and a gravy boat."

Reilly twisted the plastic top off of one of the transparent modules, demoralized, defeated. Nary could this big mouthed 'boyo begin to understand, but he accidentally pressed the ON/OFF switch on the jury rigged control panel. Concealed burners came on, and brought to life the Frankenstein Monster of all brewskies. A red light came on, like a warning from beyond. Black home brew fumes graduated upward in a gloomy, intoxicating column. It was an Anheiser Busch V. Purple Jesus nightmare. The recipe was no better than the day Verdeschi had half-assed fomented it. Pure hooch; indigestible to homo sapiens, and aliens alike. Milkdale, and Ireland's answer to Flippo The Clown, felt the buzz move immediately over the tops of their block-shaped heads.

"!!!Great Scott, what have you done!!!" Milkdale exclaimed, his knees turning to rubber.

"I 'didna do a thing except to remove this little cap." Reilly hicupped--more intelligent when stoned than he ever was when sober.

"You've set off a chain reaction." Milkdale said, his vision blurring.

"I feel o'kay, though." Reilly argued, grinning like Barney The Singing Dinosaur.

"I feel o'kay too." The senior janitor agreed.

They both fainted dead away.


In Main Mission, Commander John Koenig sat at his desk, swiveling slightly in his highback leather white chair. He was deep in thought, as evidence by the furrowing of his brow. Professor Victor Bergman was leaning against his desk, holding his clipboard and tapping his pen against the critical document in front of him.

"Ten across," Bergman announced. "Adjective for season 2. Five letters, begins and ends with 's'. John? What's a 'season 2'?"

"Nevermind, Victor," Koenig waved him off. "Try 'sucks'".

"Yes, yes, that fits," Bergman answered, excitedly writing it down.

Paul Morrow sat at his controller's desk with at least 5 cups of coffee in front of him. Angelina Verdeschi was trapped at the technical station; Ed Malcom was whining again as he stuffed yet another Alpha version of Hostess Twinkies into his fat mouth. Twinkie cream, also used a rather good lubricant when WD40 was low, was oozing from the sides of his mouth onto his ample gut.

Sandra Benes, in her black leather mini skirt and punk spiked hair, suddenly announced, "Hey, check this out. We have a contact."

Nobody paid attention . Sandra looked around then bellowed. "DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GET OFF YOUR ASSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WE HAVE A FRIKKEN CONTACT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Everyone jumped.

One the big screen, a glowy orange Octagon thingy appeared surround by a misty equally glowy orange cloud.

"What is is?" Kate Bullen asked.

"Sensors show that it is a glowy orange Octagon thingy surrounded by a misty equally glowy orange cloud." Angelina ventured.

"Didn't you just say that?" Koenig asked.

Angelina shook her head. "Said what?"

Before Koenig answered, he weaved backwards. "AAAAHHHH"

Bergman caught him. Andy Dempsey dropped to the floor in a faint.

"John?!? John?!? Are you alright?" Victor asked as the color drained from Koenig's face and his eyes rolled in back of his head.

"AAAHHHH....Victor....It's either....the cloud....or....I'm gonna have to Eddie Collins...about ...the extra umph...he put in that...last batch ...of weed.."

Koenig passed out as Kate Bullen dropped into his lap, face down, unconscious...


Never fear--Captain Alan Carter had the situation well in hand. Space was a risky business, and there was no room for those who stand around with their underwear showing. Andy Dempsey fell to the floor behind him, and Tanya Alexander fell face first into plate of nutritious, organic lettuce. They were going like flies around a blue patio light.

"???What the devil is going on here???" He exclaimed, standing at the capcomm station with macho thumbs hooked to his tan belt. Suddenly, he was no longer in the cold, cybernetic recesses of Moonbase Alpha. He was Law West Of The Pecos, and the Dalton Gang had just ridden into town.

Carter emptied all mercy from his soul.

"Main Mission, this is Horowitz in Residence Building-A." The speakers crackled to life from all around them.

"Horowitz." Carter said. "Yeah, I remember. One of the custodians."

He scratched his head feverishly.

"We've had a little infarction occur here." His voice sounded unbearably anxious. "We were moving Tony Verdeschi's still out of his quarters, and Dave Reilly accidentally turned it on without the filter cap. The fumes made their way into our exchange system, and now everyone is passing out--all except for those with a high tolerance for bad home brew."

"Bad home brew." Carter wondered, puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," Horowitz explained. "I think it had something to do with the amount of yeast he used. See, if you use too much it becomes possible for the quantities to spoil. As long as that crap sat around, I'm sure there's not a bootlegger on Alpha who would touch it.

"But any way, my main point is that it's causing everyone on the base to crash in a drunken stupor."

"I copy 'ya, Horowitz." Carter said, adding these calculations into his equation.

"What do we do?" Sandra Benes asked as Pete Irving collapsed behind her. The spikes in her hair were too cool. "The cloud is getting closer with each passing second. We can not afford to have everyone stoned."

Carter snorted.

"I'm taking Eagle One into orbit." He said, and promptly disappeared through the left archway beside the big screen. Sandra saw his shadow stop against the corridor wall. The pilot bobbed like a Punch Me Bobo Doll, and collapsed on the floor like a bull in a slaughter house.


Moonbase Alpha Status Report--1,536 days since leaving Earth's orbit; Dr. Helena Russell reporting:

1) Three carrots

2) A sack of onions

3) Cincinnati Chili Powder

4) One box of Pizza Goldfish

5) One gallon of milk (2%)

6) One box of Hostess Twinkies

7) One case of Diet Cokes

8) One economy size container of Rolaids. did that get there???


Medical Center was loaded with patients. There were sick Alphans everywhere.

Angelina had just spent several hours in Medical, helping Dr. Russell care for the patients. Ang was helping Carter back to bed, as they emerged from the medical supply closet. Her hair was dishevelled and her tunic was not tucked into her belt. Carter was adjusting the draw string on his Alpha karate pajamas with a huge grin on his face. Once she got him back to bed, she left.

The only people left standing on the base were Angelina Verdeschi, Helena Russell, Ed Malcom, Bill Frasier, Paul Morrow, Victor Bergaman and Sandra Benes. Sandra Benes, spiked hair and all, had taken command.

When Angelina returned to Main Mission, everyone was staring at the big screen. Eagle 6 had been sent out to reconnoiter the wierd octagon and accompanying cloud. Eagle 6 was making its final approach, despite the fact that it would have exhauted its fuel the day before.

"Eagle 6, this is Alpha," Sandra boomed from Koenig's desk. "It is about friggen time you got back; Graham, you slacker."

Paul Morrow kept looking behind him with a clear view under the Commander's desk and Sandra's thighs barely covered by the balck leather mini. Angelina noted a line of drool on his chin.

"EYES FRONT, MORROW," Sandra barked with authority.

"He must be riding on fumes." Ed Malcom said. He had positioned himself directly behind the interim commander, and the over the plunging neckline view was so hot, his peanut butter Pop Tart lodged sideways in his throat. "Where do you think he's been?"

In a deft move, Sandra swivelled in her seat, and did the hippopotamus in. Malcom crashed to the floor, causing cracks to form in the ejecta surrounding the Main Mission Tower. She strolled dominantly down to the operations level, smacking her punk, gloved fists together precipatantly.

"That's abusive." Morrow balked, seeing Malcom's big feet beneath the chrome plated desk. A single untoasted Pop Tart had soft landed to a crumble on the steps. "We don't have to take that shit from you."

Commander 'Sahn grabbed Beatle Boy by his mop top, and jerked his head back so hard, his jugular veins turned a tortured red color. She eskimo smooched him with her nose, blowing a mammoth bubble with her chewing gum, and popping it in his face.

"Listen to me, walrus boy." She cooed. "The next time you open your big, stressed-out mouth, I am going to put my foot in it. Comprendez vous?" The controller's eyes strained into slits. His cheeks pulled taught from the tremendous G-Forces.

"!!!You make a good argument!!!" Morrow said, relenquishing command before he was pulled bald.

Victor Bergman strolled down from the computer deck gripping a yard of register tape with pale hands.

"Hey, we've got a serious situation developing here." He looked at Sandra, and then at the big screen, and then back back to Sandra again. "Take a look at this."

"Hey dink." She told Morrow while reading the print out. "Put it on the big screen."

What appeared before them could best be described as a manse, straight from Hell's half acre. The floor was covered wall to wall with a delapidated, blood red carpet. The furniture--a love seat, a couch, and two chairs--was some ominous, rococco, and Louis Keyens combo. A dessicated corpse was propped against the wet bar.

"What on Earth have we gotten ourselves in to." Bergman said with great trepidation.

An identifiably male figure with a square head, a square torso, and a pitifully square mid-section strolled into the room carrying what appeared to be an assault rife. He moved to examine the goner sitting at the bar. Then from behind him came a barber shop trio of tarantulas--as big as Great Danes, with black fur, and yellow piping. Before the gunner with the pompadour hairdo could turn, the razor sharp mandibles were upon him. A scarlet puddle expanded on the floor as the arcane arachnids vivisected him.

"I'm going to be sick." Morrow said, his skin turning sallow.

Sandra removed the plastic blue gun from her hip, and fired three shots towards the big screen. The nine volt battery in it's haft caused it to vibrate in her hand. There was an electronic BOOP-BOOP-BOOP, which pissed off the alpha tarantula, and caused it to turn towards her. She fired three more shots, but it actually took ten before she was able to do him in. The whole time the bar graph on the side showed her vital signs fading into the black.

"I hate this game." She said. Tarantula Number Two collapsed after about twenty shots, but she was running low on ammunition. It seemed as though it was prohibitive to win, and in fact--it was. It became clear that if she was to defeat the third spider, she would have to use her one, and only potatoe masher grenade. A fake-ass digital hand appeared in the center of the screen, holding a fake-ass explosive. Sandra pressed the red button on the side of her gun, and the hand hurled the grenade.

"Nice graphics." Bergman said as Tarantula Number Three was incinerated in the explosion.

"Enough of these shenanigans." Sandra said, saving her settings before she turned the Playstation II off. "What is the situation with that cloud."

Angelina was getting readouts on the cloud as well as Eagle 6.

"What is the situation, cutie?" Commander Sahn asked, standing behind Angelina, massaging her shoulders. "Relax, Ang, you are tense," she continued.

"Well, uh," Ang shifted, uncomfortably, as she gave her shoulders some particularly aggressive squeezes "the cloud is is stationary."

"Looks to me like its closing," Paul Morrow volunteered.

"No, it's stationary," Ang replied.

"Are you sure?" Paul asked again.

"IF SHE SAID IT IS STATIONARY, IT IS STATIONARY!!!!!" Commander Sahn reiterated for Ang. Morrow immediatlely clammed up.

Turning to Ang, "What about Eagle 6, Angie?" Sahn continued in a uncharacteristically gentler voice.

"Uh, well, Eagle 6 would have exhausted it's fuel yesterday."

Professor Bergman piped up. "There is no life signs on board Eagle 6."

"Are there any life sign readings?" Commander Sahn asked Ang.

"Too early to tell," Ang replied frowning.

"There is no life on board Eagle 6," Victor offered.

"I wonder who could be piloting Eagle 6," Ed Malcom mused, now standing behind Morrow, reaching for the tray of chocolate creme puffs in front of the cap comm station.

"There is no life on board Eagle 6." Victor continued.

"Shouldn't someone go meet Graham on Launch Pad 2? That's where Eagle 6 is heading.."Paul Morrow cautiously volunteered.

"There is no life on board Eagle 6."

"Do you hear a voice?" Sahn asked, looking around.

Everyone in the room shook their heads.

"There is no life on board Eagle 6," Victor reiterated.

"Victor, shut up," Commander Sahn said, "See? we are trying to find out the situation with Eagle 6. Geez, rambling old man..."

"There is no life on board Eagle 6."

Sahn glared at him.

"Morrow, Frasier, come with me," interim Commander Sahn started. Then looking at Malcom with disgust, "You come with us too...maybe if it is hostile you can sit on it and crush it to death. Bergman, you stay here and take care of Main Mission. If you get any life readings, let us know immediately."

"There is no life on board Eagle 6," Bergaman restated.

"Right," Sahn turned, "Ang, you go to medical. You'll be safe there. Leave now and let me know when you get there."

Angelina gladly left and called Main Mission when she got to Medical.

"Computer, this is interim Commander Sahn. All doors are to remain locked unless opened by my voice command. Got it?

"Computer acknowledged" computer monotoned.

"Why are you doing that?" Paul asked.

"Because I want does not have to make sense! Got a problem with that?!??" Sahn came over to him.

"Uh, no, no, that's cool. You're doing a great job, Sahn, really" Morrow answered nervously.

"Good boy," Commander Sahn smiled approvingly, patting him on the cheek with leathered hand. "Now, let us go....."


As Graham's Eagle--which may have contained life; which may not have contained life; which may have contained fruits, and vegetables of various phylum--landed triumphantly on the launch pad, the boarding party humped to get there. Morrow darted through the corridors, slightly ahead of Commander Sahn. Behind her was Bill Frasier, intermittently stopping to hitch his pants. A long, long way back was Ed Malcom; hyperventilating; aching in joints he didn't even know he had; unable to tow the line. After only thirty seconds at full gallop, he crumbled to the floor, and began to cry.

"I'll handle this." Morrow told Sandra as the double doors to the travel tube opened. "Your line of bull may have bamboozled them back in Main Mission, but we're in the field now. Better let some one with experience take over, or you'll look so bad."

"Be my guest, walrus." Commander Sahn said, indicating with her laser that they should board the coach.

The boarded the tram, Sahn sitting in one of the tough, plastic couches with her weapon folded over her breast. Sitting across from her was Morrow, his right leg cocked confidently over his left knee. Standing was Bill Frasier, a look of fiery explosion on his face, and with his ankles crossed because he had to use the john so bad.

The coach accelerated down the dark, mysterious tunnel--subway lights passing by at light speed. Then it ground to a halt. Then the reversing engine kicked on, and it started to go in the opposite direction. It stopped half-way, and turned down a connecting tunnel. It passed the Eifel Tower in gay Paris; it passed through an alternate dimension where dinosaurs ruled the Moon; it passed by an office building with the legend FRED FREIBERGER PRODUCTIONS hoisted mid-building. It was here that Commander Sahn hurled out her empty Big Mac carton. The travel tube moved up; it moved down. The tunnel stretched into relative time.

Then the car stopped.

"Morrow, where the hell are we going. Are we lost?!?!?" Commander Sahn said, accusatorily.


Moonbase Alpha Status Report...Dr. Helena Ruuuussell recording...

Since we have been near the glowy octagon thingy with the misty glowy cloud, and, coincideeeently since Big Dave uncapped the ranciiiid crap in the late Tony Verdeschi's still, the peeeeople on this base.....oh, yes, yes, John, that feels soooooo...uh, the people on this base have been suffering from depression, decreased work ethic and increeeeeaed sex drive. Some Alphans appear to have immuuuunity to whatever the hell it is that is making our people sad and horney...this skeleton crew is keeping Moonbaaaaaase Alpha....oh..oh...oh...right there...right there!!!! barely operational.....


When the travel tube opened, our heroic trio encountered: Ed Malcom.

"What the....." Commander Sahn bellowed. " MORROW, you dumb shit, we are right back where we started from!!!" Then grabbing Malcom by the ear and dragging him inside, "Get in here, blubber butt. I am back in command now!"

Commander Sahn closed the door, fuming, and aimed her comlock at the door.

"Hey, I have to take a whiz," Frasier whined, his face turning about 5 different shades of red. Commander Sahn handed him a Mason jar as the travel tube started to move again.

The travel tube slowly came to a halt.

"Cover me, " Commander Sahn ordered, aligning her trigger arm. Sahn looked back and forth between Morrow and Frasier. "On second thought, I will take care of myself. I am not your mama, though, so you boys are on your own. Open the door."

The door to the boarding tube slid open silently. Then, the door to Eagle 6 open as the heros bolted into the boarding tube.

"Yo Graham!!!" Commander Sahn yelled, charging into the passenger module. "Graham, you friggin' slacker, when I get my hands you, I am gonna kick your ass. You better listen to me, homeboy, cause I......"

"Holy Shit!!!" Commander Sahn froze, gaping at the thing emerging from the Command module.

The hideous creature was strange yet familiar. At 7 feet tall, it was covered with yellow feathers and had a great big yellow beak. It's bulbous eyes stared back at the trio. It opened its cavernous mouth to speak.

"This episode is sponsored by the letter 'S' and by the number '5'."

"The letter 'S'?" Morrow said, aghast.

He screamed, and his sphincter betrayed him. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Ed Malcom came up from behind, and slapped sense back into Morrow.

Creecha, approaching Malcom, asked " How about a cookie, big guy?"

"How dare you." Morrow boiled..

Morrow and Malcom proceeded to choke each other.

"Cookie," Malcom strangled, as Morrow tightened his grip. They fell to the floor, and rolled around the Eagle.


Commander Sahn took charge of the situation. "Walrus!!! Lard-ass!!!! Get up!!! They have come for the brain center!!! "

Ed Malcom continued to beat Morrow to a pulp.


Morrow's face turned purple.Sandra glanced at Fraiser, shivering and cowering in the corner of the Eagle " What are YOU afraid of, pussy boy?!!?

Morrow fired his kill laser at Cree-cha, but his aim was terrible. But Malcom siezed Morrow’s collar bone, and they rolled around some more, choking each other.

"Is it gone???" Fraser asked, traumatized.

Big Bird, uh Creecha, takes the opportunity to waltz into the travel tube. The doors close as the tube speeds off…..Leaving our heros in the Eagle..

"WHERE'S MY COOKIE!!!!!!!!" Ed Malcom screamed with insanity! Morrow gagged, and choked, and turned green.

Fraser began to cry. "I'm supposed to be the hero."


Meanwhile, back in Main Mission...Victor was having a conversation with same disembodied voice...


Victor stammered " aaahhhhh........arrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh"


"We cannot survive without our life support," Victor dumbly stated the obvious.



Victor brought out the brandy and cigars..


"It's 60 year old brandy...I've been saving it for years..and cigars."


"Join me in a philosophical discussion before you kill me? We have to improve on this terrible dialogue somehow"


"No." Victor shrugged and lit his Cuban.


"Oh, I don't know about that," Victor took another drag from his cigar as he pours his brandy in a Kmart special cordial glass. "I just spotted him in one of the base cameras. Big guy with yellow feathers and big yellow beak?"


"Oh, I don't think he is killing anyone. Right now, he is reading to our youngest Alphan resident, a baby, Nicky Carter. Yes, we may keep him as a teacher.."


The Powerful Cloud transmits it's evil thought waves to Cree-cha: "SERVANT, YOU AREN'T BEING NEFARIOUS ENOUGH. I WANT IMMEDIATE ACTION TAKEN."



Creecha is reading to little Nicky Carter, who is sitting on his lap ".. and the little duck went over the bridge followed by his friends: the chicken, the dog and the kitty.."


Mr. Pierce Quenton, and his garrison appeared out of nowhere. They covered the door to the travel tube and wait for it to open.

Creecha prepared to stand as the travel tube came to a halt. " Oh...Ok...come on little boy...let's go to life support...we'll skip there..."

"Alright, lads. This is the big one. Let's pray that we prevail."

The doors opened and three of the guards panicked at the sight of Cree-cha, and ran, crapping in their pants. Peirce Quenton fired his laser, but it rebounded, and scorched his mod squad moustache.

"I've had just about enough of this."

He disappeared into a nearby closet and emerged, with his hair permed, and wearing plaid pants, and a black leather jacket. A gold chain wass around his neck.

The orchestra strikes up the theme to "Shaft."

A Lincoln appears... Tanya and Yasko, wearing spaghetti strap disco dress in slut pumps on each side of him..

"Alright, you yellow turkey. Let go of the baby, or you're going down hard."

"Bi..Bir...", Nicky proclaimed sweetly.


Nicky insisted. "Bi..Bir..."

"I've had about enough of this barnyard bullshit." Quenton/Shaft said, and aimed his Remington single action at Cree-cha."Put the kid down, cool breeze. That's your last warning."

Tanya and Yasko swayed to the Motown beat.


"Your damn straight." Quenton/Shaft said to the disembodied orchestra.

***** Medical Center

Koenig snored.

So...back in the travel tube.


"That was lousy how you handled that." Morrow griped at Commander Sahn.

Ed Malcom ate his cookie contentedly. Frasier was catatonic in a corner...still.

"Look at diaper boy over there. Funny you picked him to go on this mission." Morrow chuckles. I think it's time I took over this mission." Morrow is certain.

Sahn pushed Morrow to the ground....sits on his chest. ‘If you even think you want a kissey face scene in the end with me like the other version of this story…. You better do it my way...."

"I need to be kissed." Malcom said.

Commander Sahn, ignoring Malcoms existence, grabbed either side of Morrow’s moustache and pulled his head up...Morrow shrieked. "Comprendez vous?!?!"

The cloud voice gloated: "YOU'RE WASTING YOUR TIME. AH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Morrow snapped his fingers. "We're in trouble." He revealed, awaiting a response. "Well, I see no one appreciates my genius." Morrow said. Ed Malcom showed Commander Sahn the food on his tongue.

Sahn got up...." You are an idiot, Walrus..What are we going to do about this. You heard that thing. It wants our life support--and to read us mediocre fan fiction."

Malcom, talking with a mouthful of cookie, offered" Maybe first we should catch up to it?"

"Do come along, Malcom." Morrow said disgusted. "Where do you get these hairbrained ideas."

Malcom shrugged and licked the chocolate crumbs off his fingers..

"The thing to do...." Morrow explained. "Is wait until the last minute. Let us sit here, and twiddle our thumbs until the end of the episode...then....""You, and I, Sandra, will run from one corridor of Alpha to the next, You must show a handsome amount of thigh. Then we'll try to get that puss over there to erect an electrical forcefield in front of Life Support."

"That," Morrow says emphatically, "is what we need to do."

"Hmmm..." Sahn patted Morrow on the head."You got a smidge of intelligence, there, Walrus."


Meanwhile, the standoff between Shaft/Quenton, and Cree-cha escalated…

"Last warning, let the kid go, or you'll get both barrels."

"Bi...Bir..." Nicky reiterated with a giggle.

Shaft/Quenton's sunglasses reflected the number cards that Cree-cha was showing Nicky. Then Cree-cha ran for it, and Shaft/Quenton took after him in the Lincoln, mowing down any number of commstations.


Shaft/Quenton, cruised along, with his elbow hanging out the window, yellow bird feathers flying by him. Funky SHAFT music got louder and louder. Shaft/Quenton mowed through Section-C, and the solarium, and the lady Alphans swoon as he mowed down their tanning beds. Shaft/Quenton threw them kisses. Then, Cree-cha entered Main Mission. Victor backed towards the commander's office.

"I know why you're here."He gulped, fearfully. "You think you're going to bore me to death with one of your fan stories, don't you?"

Creecha began to cry "Well <sniff> that isn't nice, Professor. You hurt my insult my worth as a creecha" Creecha cried....Nicky hugged him.

"I won't fall for that!!!!!!!!!!" Bergman shrieked. You aren't going to read me bad Balor stories, and you certainly aren't going to take our life support."

"Hello, Nicky." Bergman said, waving.

"You're a nice little boy," Creecha said as he put Nicky in Koenig's chair. "Here, have a cookie.."


Shaft/Quenton drove through the bulkhead in his Lincoln. Tanya was combing his hair for him. He opened up with both barrells, and turned Main Mission into the police station from "The Terminator". Cree-cha pulled out a piece of bad fan fiction.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOT THAT!!!!!" Victor cried out, grasping his chest in the area of his mechanical heart.

"You're some piece of work." Shaft/Quenton said, backing away. "So, I guess you'd read that shit to the kid, wouldn't you???"

They all shrieked...

"YES, WE WOULD, ACTUALLY. AH-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" bellowed the Cloud Intelligence. Then to the Creecha "HEY...DUMMY... YOU ARE IN MAIN MISSION THE LIFE SUPPORT IS NOT THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Shaft/Quenton, walked past Cree-cha, and confered with Bergman.

"You know, I think it's time we took the gloves off. Don't know about you, but I'm heading for Tactical, and Defense Section. I'm getting pretty tired of 'THE MAN.'" Shaft/Quenton decreed. Creecha disappeared through the left archway...

"What man?" Victor asked confused.

"Later." Shaft/Quenton high fived Bergman. "I'm going to boil some cloud."

He climbed in the Lincoln. Tanya steered the car, while Yasko sucked face with him.


Bergman scratched his head.


Cut to Medical...Koenig was snoring.

Cut to the travel tube.


"We still have about three more commercials to sit through before we have to take action." Morrow proclaimed, looking at his watch.

Morrow activated his comlock..."Helena, I have to talk to the Commander!! I am not sure of my second in command abilities."

XXX-Rated breathing ensued in the background.

"Helena?!?!?! Helena?!?!?! Dr. Russell?!?!?!

"Command?" Helena said, and they heard a spanking sound. "Oh, you bad boy. MMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmm."

Morrow looked to Sahn desperately. "OK.....Let me talk to Alan..."

Helena giggled girlishly. "Who is Alan? Oh, John. John, John, John!!!!!!"

Suddenly they heard a commode flush.

"Where's the blasted toilet paper." Carter grumbled."'Ang, baby, we've got to do better than this. Right? If there's one thing I can't stand, it's not having it there when I need it, o'kay???"

Morrow looked horror stricken at Sahn.

"What Alan? Your toilet paper or your sex?"

"Right now, my blasted corn cobbs. 'Angie, we talked about this. Every other week, you stock the spool. Right?"

"No!!!! That's YOUR job"

"It ain't my job."

"I do EVERYTHING else in this relationship...and you can't handle one lousy chore..."hhhmmmph!!!" Ang stormed off and slammed the door.

"Alan, it's Paul, listen, we're in desperate trouble." Morrow said into the comlock.

"Tell me about it. I got your trouble, Paul."

Morrow looked gravely at Sahn.

"He's neutralized them. We're totally on our own. Sahn???" Morrow took her hand. "There's something I want you to know. Come, walk with me. I'll make it short. We have a Tang Commercial coming up."

"What do you want, Morrow?" Sahn was picking her fingers.

Morrow rubbed her palm, and they sat upon a rock in the middle of the corridor.

"Here we are." Morrow began.

"Hey...where did this rock come from?!?!" Sahn asked, surprised.

"Away from monitoring instruments, and funky, multi-colored, red, blue, and green flimsies." A hatch opened behind them, and a tuxedo-clad violin player emergef.

"What the hell?!?!" Sahn blurted." Where did he come from?!"

"Yes, we've pulled the longest tour of duty of all." Morrow began to breath heavily. Too heavily, actually.

"Hey, Walrus, do not collapse on me..." she said, with just a speck of concern.

"You know, we deserve a break." His legs, and chest began to quiver with desire.

"Sure...we deserve a break today...let us go to McDonald's."

"Couped up in here." Morrow said orgasmically. The effect of holding her hand was just too kinky. "There are thoughts we dare not have."

"Heh heh dare not have, Morrow..."

The violin player waited for Sahn's response. Morrow pulled Sahn's face towards him, and then....

And then....And then...he coped out on her.

"Sorry, Sahn. I can't do it. As badly as you want me. I have my duties, and you have yours."

"Bullshit" Sahn blurted. She grabbed Morrow by the mop top and gave him some serious tongue.

"Sahn-awhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, mmmphhh, ughhhhhhhhhhhhh."

The violin player struck up a polka.

" that what you wanted, Walrus?" She said when she let him up for air..

Morrow acted as though he was stoned. The violin player moved between them and intensified his solo.

"Sahn, we have the good of the base to think about. You know what they say. Now, what are we going to do about this situation."

The violin player looked at him like he's crazy; he winked at Commander Sahn.

"Let us make a pointless trip to....Medical" Sahn grabbed his hand in a vice grip...

"Sahn, not again." Walrus boy said, and we realize why he's such a stick in the mud in every episode of the first season. Sexual deprivation, and it's of his own making.


Meanwhile in Tactical, and Defense Section…

Shaft/Quenton raised a laser canon into position and aimed the crosshairs at the cloud entity.

"That's right, that's right, asswipe. You're going down."


He fired the laser, cutting it in half. Funky, disco porno music was playing on the comm system.

"Keep on laughing, scum bag."

He fired again, cutting it into thirds. "Too cool."

He fired again, cutting it into quarters. Tanya and Yasko dance on the counters, and snap their fingers.

He fired again, cutting it into fifths.

He fired again, cutting it into sixths.

He pulled out a Havana-Corona Cigar, and chewed the tip off.

"Fuck with me." He said, satisfactorily, and lit his smoke.

AAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA All the pieces came together again!!! Shaft/Quenton dropped his cigar.

"Now, something bad's going to happen to you." He said.

He cut the cloud into tenths, and fifteenths. Yasko and Tanya tool seats on his lap, smoothing his hair out. Shaft/Quenton tipped his smoke in the air.


The pieces come together again!!!


"Hmmmmm." Shaft/Quenton replied, tapping his cigar ash. "Now, that is a bit of a snag, isn't it? O'kay ladies, time to go to Plan-B."

They left Tactical and Defense Section, driving down the corridor at 55mph in the Lincoln.


Meanwhile in Medical Center ….Koenig was snoring louder.


Meanwhile, Morrow and Commander Sahn were running down the corridor. Morrow stopped, totally out of breath.

"That's ten laps now." Morrow activated his comlock..."I really need to talk to the commander …I-I I don't care if he's sleeping...I'm incompetent"

"'Ang," Carter groused. "Where's the coffee, babe. It's almost twelve, and the beds still aren't made. C'mon sweetie. Shape this place up."

"Alan, you can't go out there! You can barely stand up! Besides, you’re half naked..."

"You never seemed to mind that in the past."

"You belong in to me" She patted the bed, gazing at him seductively.

"We've already done it six times. 'Geez, you're insatiable, Ang."

"Is that a problem?"

Carter immediately cut the link.


Sahn sat next to Morrow revealing some very nice thigh. Then, the yellow monster appeared. Nicky Carter was trailing after him. Morrow's eyes widen.

"Here's our chance. Hey you!!! ….Cree-cha!!!…Over here!!!…Come on, Sahn, help me to get his attention." Cree-cha merrily sang "A, B, C, D, E, F, G...."

Commander Sahn had an idea "hhhhmmmmmmm...

"Come and play, everything is A-O-K..." she sang "Family, neighbors here, that is where we will be…"

"Yeah," Morrow said, tired of jogging. "We want to be your friends."

Sahn continued singing. "Can you tell me how to get? How to get to Sesame Street?"

"If we can get him in this chlorine chamber, he's history." He whispered to Sahn.

Sahn looked doubtful..."Ya think?!"

"And I can't wait." Morrow, said, looking at the yellow bird, disgusted. Morrow picked up a chair, and threw it at him.

"Cree-cha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Over here, ugly." The chair missed, and nailed Ed Malcom. Cree-cha just kept on walking, and singing, with little Nicky trailing behind him.

"There's only one more chance." Morrow said.

"Yeah!! He is on his way to life support..." she replied, pulling her comlock off her belt. "Frasier!!!"

"You need to direct Fraser in how to build a stable threshold.. I will call the cree-cha names, and get on his bad side." Paul nodded autocratically.

"ME?!?!?! I do not know shit about electricity....Tell Ang to tell him how...she is the friggin engineer..."

"Y-y-y-y-y-yeah???" Fraser trembled on the other end of the monitor.

"She's not herself right now. You're our only chance, Sahn." Morrow said, and grabbed her, pressing his lips against hers.

"L-l--l-l-listen. I-I can't cope with this." Fraser said, crying.

Sandra, unimpressed by Morrow's kiss, keyed another code on her comlock...

"Angie...what are you doing?"

Morrow, pushed the comlock away.

"Morrow! You dipshit....what are you doing?!?!?"

"You listen to me--lady, since I've known you, I've been shot at, hectored, and I've been stoned on mushrooms. The least you can do is be nice." He sucked her face again.

"I-I am actually at a point in my life, where I really don't need this." Fraser said.

"Someone help me set up the electrical barrier!!!" Frasier wept.

Morrow winked, looking directly into the camera. "I knew she was crazy about me."

Meanwhile, Cree-cha, and little Nicky, were getting closer to Life Support.


"Bi...Bir..." Nicky gleefully chirps.


"Bi Bir..."


Frasier has contacted Ang on his construct the electrical barrier...Ang was on audio only. "Oh yeah...oh yeah...right there... Oh my GOD!!!! You're still as good as the first time!!!"

"'Ang, for godsake, you've got to help us. Instruct me on how to create a stable threshold. I've got all these extension cords." Fraser tried to untangle them, but it got worse.

Ang cleared her throat. ", dummy, don't use extension cords!!!"

"It's all we've got." Fraser moaned.

"OK....go to the supply closet that just happens to be next to you..Pull out the cable marked U10.....Not U15....U10..."

Fraser pulled out a cable marked Do-It Powermaster. "Got it." He said.

"Got it?!?!"

"Sure, you can trust me."

"Good...U10...good conductor...good for bondage games too..but that's beside the point..."

"That's useless to me." Fraser moaned.

"Anyway, take the 6 cones...set them up...3 to a've got to create an electrical barrier.."

Frasier took eight cones, and left them everywhere. Funky y2 music got louder again.

"Right, I've got to create an electrical thingamajig."

Cree-cha lets Nicky ride on his shoulder as they got closer…

Ang pushed the mute button on her comlock and looked at Alan, "Did you hire that yutz?"

"No," Carter admited. "He got grandfathered in. Good old Uncle Gorski. Know what I mean."

Ang unmuted her comlock..." does it look?"

"I'm erecting the forcefield now." Fraser said. He had cable taped to the ceiling; cable running up form the floor to the bulkhead; cable running down the corridor; none of the sockets were plugged in.

"Good," Ang smiled...only because Alan is starting some heavy foreplay on her...

"We're at full power." Fraser said triumphantly, though not a single outlet was plugged in. The only thing plugged was his intelligence. Morrow, and Sahn arrived at the stable threshold.

"OK..."Ang continued..."Now"…Put one clamp on the lower wire...Put the generator switch on...."

"What a fucked up job." Morrow shrieked

"Right." Fraser rigged everything with duct tape.

"Be careful....don't touch the cable as you pass under it….It should be OK...

"That's not what she said." Morrow criticized.

"It should be OK...if you followed my instructions.."

Fraser adeptly touched the cable as he passed it under. ….AND GETS ZAPPED!!! Just like Marv from Home Alone II….Fraser's hair was white.

"Is it working?!?" Ang asked doubtfully.

"Where did I go wrong." He asked, his face, black, and his hair smoldering. "She doesn't know how to do this, does she?"

"No, it's not working." Morrow answered, with dread. "He's screwed the entire thing up."

"OK...people...think...think..." Ang prompted but the situation was nearly hopeless.

Cree-cha, and Nicky arrived "I need to get in there." Cree-cha pointed to the entrance to Life Support..

"Oh my God!!! WHAT IS NICKY DOING WITH THAT THING!!!!!" Ang yelled helplessly over the blue and white monitor.

"Never." Morrow replied, and kick boxed Creecha in the yellow bill.


Ang turns to Alan in desperation. "Think...Think, Alan...think... What will kill that thing...?"

"I've got it." Carter said. "Look here." he said, producing a cue-tip. "That's the answer."

Ang was puzzled...


"I've been thinking all day." Carter declared. "This cue tip?"

"Yes?!?!" Ang asked eagerly

Morrow half heard what they're saying.

"Well, I've had this problem with me balance." He stuck the cue tip in his ear, and started to dig. "Time to clear a little path, 'Angie."

Morrow reacted to Carter’s idea. "We need a cue tip fast!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Cree-cha, and Nicky entered Life Support.

Carter continued to dig through his ear wax, looking quite pleased with himself. He winked at 'Ang. "Want to help me with it."

Ang was suddenly struck with an idea. "Wait!!! I got it!!!! Bad fan fiction....Paul, Sahn, Bill, if you're still alive....."


"You've got to read it bad fan fiction!!!!"


Morrow walked up to Cree-cha, and began to read. "Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock Celebrate St. Valentine's Day"

Cree-cha became enraged. He picked Morrow up, and threw him against the bulkhead. He sat on him. He used his face for a punching bag. He spat in his face. Morrow tried to stand, and Cree-cha jumped in the air like the Matrix, and then slowly brought his feet into Morrow's mug. Morrow was thrown against a stack of octagonal packing crates.

Sahn continued to read... "Mr. Spock prepared a lovely dinner for Captain Kirk with candles and music."

Cree-cha shrieked, grabbing his ears.

"Oh Spock, Kirk chuckled, this is very nice. Spock, rather than have dessert, would you do the ...

Morrow came out of the crate pile with two black eyes. He looked like a raccoon.

"…you know, the thing down there. I enjoy it. Spock giggled, girlishly... oh yes, Jim...after you finish your peas..""

"Alright." Cree-cha said, forming a tee with his hands. I see you people are never going to be nice to me."

"Nice?" Morrow replied. "We hate your guts."

Sahn continued "I had these peas prepared especially for you...along with the Porterhouse steak."

Cloud entity screamed in agony" NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Spock smiled.."Nevermind how I got the steak...but lets just say the two doves in the rec room are now down to one."

"It could have been worse, they could have sent Barney." Cree-cha patted Nicky on the shoulder.

"Yeah, well, kiss-off." Morrow snarled.

Sahn was reading louder." Oh Spock," Kirk smiled, taking his hand. And look at these wine glasse...they sparkle...did you use Cascade?"

"I can't take this." Cree-cha said, tearing up his contract.

"Is it gone? Can I stop reading this shit!?!??!"

"Please." Cree-cha said. "That was absolutely the worst prose I've ever heard. You should be ashamed of yourself. I can't annihilate you if you're going to treat me like this."

"Send Barney." Morrow challenged. "I'll fuck him up, too."

Sahn groaned. "Believe me pal, this hurts me worse than it hurts you.." Sahn continued reading..

Creecha screamed....and melted into a yellow pile of feathers...


The Powerful Cloud screamed: YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS. ALL OF YOU.

"We're not afraid of Barney, if that's what you mean." Morrow yelled bravely.

In deep space, a pair of fans appeared, and the cloud was blown away, leaving behind a Donald Duck outline.


End scene: Corny Derek Wadsworth music starts up ….wahwahwahwahhhhhhhhhhhh..wah wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Main Mission returned to it's happy family normalcy.

"How did you all ever survive without me." Koenig chuckled, grabbing a handful of Helena's butt.

Victor chuckled. "Of course, Quenton made quite a mess of things, but according to Mathias, he'll be out of the psych ward soon."

"It was all in the reading of bad fan fiction, Commander," Ang piped up triumphantly..

"Well, we at least have that to be grateful for." Helena said.

"Is that all?" Koenig winked. "Who's your daddy."

"If only we listened to Victor when he told us that Eagle 6 was lifeless to begin with," Ang mused.. "Then we would have known what to do"

"That's o'kay." Victor forgave them. "They never listened to me in the past, why should this have been different."

"It wasn't all bad." Morrow said, starting in on his second mushroom. "We got to do some interesting things."

"HA-HA, that's how you know who your friends are, Paul." Koenig said, and gulped his Vodka.

Ang turned to Carter, wrapping her arms around his neck..pressing her body against his... "Are you still mad at me for forgetting the toilet paper?" I know just how to make it up to you.. "

"Of course not, baby. I want to tour your underwear drawer. We deserve it."

"Way to go, Alan." Koenig said, and gulped another swig of Vodka.

Ang and Carter engaged in some serious kissing and foreplay..leaned her back up against the commstation...Morrow looked on enviously..looked at Sandra...

"Maybe we can...hold hands, or something." He said, risque.

Sandra grabbed him and threw him to the ground. She jumped on top of him and gave him tongue...We hear Paul's muffled cries for help from under the controller’s desk.

"Isn't love, and romance a beautiful thing." Bergman told Koenig. Helena giggled like a brainless school girl.

"We have each other." Koenig stated profoundly. "Thank God."

The music got cornier, and cornier, as the camera pulled back. A FRED FREIBERGER PRODUCTION

Starring: Big Bird as Cree-cha.

Co-starring: Obnoxious Grip as the Cloud Entity

Guest Artist: John Hugg as Bill "Shock Boy" Fraser

Wardrobe by Frederick's Of Hollywood

Filmed on a shoestring budget, on the most remote back lot--so as not to offend--at Pinewood Studios, and Bray.