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Wednesday, October 20, 2004
KENNY ROGERS: Insertion +00:04:17
Our submarine was inserted into the body of the giant, hyper-dimensional Kenny Rogers. We entered under the large toenail on his left foot. That part was easy ... too easy.
I was standing on the bridge of the sub with some of the crew of bloggers I'd recruited.
ADMIRAL BLAMB: How's it handling?
CAPTAIN CHRISTIE: Sluggish. Like a wet sponge.
LT. ARMCHAIR: Admiral, may I have a word with you?
We stepped into the map room. Dr. Chip was sitting in a chair, his head wrapped in tinfoil. Smoke hovered in the air.
ARMCHAIR: You can't smoke on a submarine!
DR. CHIP: I beg your pardon, sir! I resent your accusations!
BLAMB: Forget him. What's this about?
ARMCHAIR: I don't think the Captain should be piloting this sub. Have you heard about her driving record?
DR. CHIP: Are you talking about Captain Christie?
ARMCHAIR: Yeah.
DR. CHIP: I used to eat that cereal when I was a kid.
BLAMB: You're thinking of Cap'n Crunch.
DR. CHIP: No, it was Rice Crispies.
BLAMB: Oh.
DR. CHIP: Wait, no. Actually, it was Special K. Forget it.
ARMCHAIR: Anyhow, like I was saying ...
BLAMB: Oh, come on! We're on a road trip, we're supposed to be having fun and she wanted to drive!
ARMCHAIR: Sir, she has an imaginary friend.
BLAMB: Really?
ARMCHAIR: A turtle named 'Dave'. She talks to him when no one else is around.
BLAMB: Aw, isn't that nice.
ARMCHAIR: NO! It's not nice! It's crazy!
BLAMB: Well, it's a crazy world!
DR. CHIP: [shaking his head] We're doomed. [exits]
ARMCHAIR: [whispers] And I don't trust him. All he cares about is money. He'd sell us out at the first opportunity.
BLAMB: I know, I know. That's why the Robot and Ultra-Baby are keeping an eye on him.
Dr. Chip walked down the corridor and into the medical bay. The Robot and Ultra-Baby were there.
ROBOT: [electronic monotone] GOOD MORNING, DR. CHIP.
DR. CHIP: Not bloody likely.
ROBOT: ULTRA-BABY SAYS GOOD MORNING AS WELL.
Dr. Chip snorted.
ROBOT: ULTRA-BABY WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHY YOU ARE WEARING TINFOIL ON YOUR HEAD. ULTRA-BABY SAYS THAT IT BLOCKS HER TELEPATHY. ULTRA-BABY SAYS THAT IT PREVENTS HER FROM COMMUNICATING WITH YOU.
DR. CHIP: She's communicating just fine through you, you bumbling bucket of bolts.
ROBOT: ULTRA-BABY THINKS THAT YOU ARE HIDING SOMETHING. ULTRA-BABY SAYS THAT SHE DOES NOT TRUST YOU.
Dr. Chip leaned towards Ultra-Baby and pointed his finger at her.
DR. CHIP: Listen you, you, you ... you tyrannical, toddling tyke! I don't need you or anyone crawling around in my consciousness. Stay out, you hear me? OUT!
ROBOT: ULTRA-BABY SAYS THAT SHE IS WATCHING YOU.
Suddenly, sirens started wailing. Armchair and the Admiral dashed to the bridge.
CHRISTIE: There's a fleet of subs! We're surrounded!
A voice crackled over the intercom:
POWER DOWN YOUR ENGINES AND PREPARE TO BE BOARDED.
OR BE DESTROYED.
1:03 PM
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