Screw the Universe (15 page)

“Yeah, all right, whatever,” said the ship’s computer.

The Zdravo orbited the planet Timeskipado, as the landing party of Captain Oswald Van Vanderhoort Van Tyler, First Lieutenant Archibald Duknerts, Private Yvette Redshirt and Private Percival Q. Purplepants, against the wishes of the planet’s indigenous people, examined the first known working time machine.

Assuming by “examined,” one meant “Captain Tyler immediately jumped into it and started pressing buttons, then vanished in a flash of pink dust and something that smelled like asparagus.”

First Lieutenant Duknerts and Privates Redshirt and Purplepants, not really knowing what else to do, sat around and waited for their intrepid captain to return from the past. Or the future. Or wherever the hell he ended up. Again, ignoring the natives’ requests.

Eventually, the first lieutenant and his girlfriend got bored and decided to start making out. Aggressively. Private Purplepants, horrified at what he was watching and clutching his helmet with both hands, began apologizing to the natives who, tired of being ignored, were gathering with lit torches and sharp rocks.

Then, all of a sudden, Percival Q. Purplepants vanished. Disappeared into thin air. Then the natives turned into giant, sabre-toothed butterflies.

First Lieutenant Duknerts and Private Redshirt stopped their grope fest and just stared at each other.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” asked the private, removing various parts of the lieutenant from various parts of herself.

“Me? What about you? I’m your commanding officer!” retorted the first lieutenant.

“You’re not commanding me to do anything, you pervert!” yelled Private Redshirt, before storming off to the teleportation rendezvous area and beaming back aboard the ship.

“Crazy bitch,” grumbled First Lieutenant Duknerts.

Three seconds later, Captain Tyler emerged from the time machine. Behind him stood a small hill of pirate gold.

“’
Nerts! How ya been? How’s the missus?”

“Uh, fine, sir,” replied the first lieutenant, looking confused. “And who?”

“Booby McFuntits?”

“I don’t....”

“Damn it, I know she has a na— Redshirt! That’s her face.”

“Oh, her. While you were gone, that
harlot
somehow covertly stuck my hand in her pants. I called her out on it and she got mad and now she’s back in the ship.”

“Wait, you ‘called her out?’ Why would you ever
not
want your hand in her – Hey, where’s Purplepants?”

“I don’t know who you’re referring to.”

“Percival.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Still got nothing.”

“He was here five minutes ago when I left.”

“No... It was just me and that sex fiend.”

“What about the natives?”

“The native... population? Of butterflies?”

“No, they were people. I know because I tried to bone one and he slapped me.”

“He, sir?”

“Where did they go, Duknerts?”

“Nobody went anywhere, Captain. Except Private Redshirt.”

“Is this some kind of a trick, Lieutenant? Are you trying to bait me into doing something stupid so you can murder me again? Because that’s illegal now. I spoke with Space Marshal Orr and –”

“Space Marshal who, sir?”

“Orr. Space Marshal Phil Orr.”

“There’s no Space Marshal Orr, Captain,” said First Lieutenant Duknerts. “Are you feeling okay? Did you catch something in the past? Who did you nail, captain? Some kind of ancient prostitute? Because we still don’t have cures for some of the stuff they were carrying.”

“Are you messing with me? No Purplepants? No Orr? You and Redshirt aren’t doing it as we speak? Is Ashton Kutcher here?”

“No, yes, right, that woman is nuts, and who?”

“You’re going to have to slow it down a bit.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Captain? You’re the smartest man I’ve ever met. I don’t like this new you.”

“That is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

The captain and the first lieutenant made their way back to the Zdravo, which then made her way towards headquarters. During the journey, Duknerts explained to Tyler that the Zdravo was under the direct command of Major General Philomena Moore, no one by the name of Percival Q. Purplepants had ever set foot aboard their ship, that he and Private Redshirt had never been romantically involved, and, according to the internet, Ashton Kutcher was either a plumber from Lawrenceville, New Jersey, or a drag queen in Reno, Nevada. Duknerts was very confused as to how the captain might have heard of him and wondered just what Tyler thought had happened that would involve a plumber or a cross-dresser.

“This is all so confusing,” said Captain Tyler, his head in his hands. “Get Private Darkpinkshirt up here. I need to update my Facebook status. And a hug.”

“There’s no Private Darkpinkshirt on board...”

“What? Then who updates my social media? What about Crimsonshirt? Is he here? What about Hank?!”

“I don’t...” First Lieutenant Duknerts furrowed his brow. Then he said, “Computer! Get Second Lieutenant Rhinotestis up here. I think I’m going to need some help.”

A moment later, Second Lieutenant Angelo Rhinotestis hovered into the room.

“Holy balls!” exclaimed Tyler. “It’s a floating sack of gonads!”

The voice of the second lieutenant – who was in fact a giant, floating scrotum – exited from an undisclosed location and said, “Is there something wrong with the captain? He’s not usually this vulgar.”

“Ever since he came back from the time machine he’s been acting strangely,” explained First Lieutenant Duknerts.

“How peculiar. We should probably bring him to the ship’s vet.”

“The vet?” asked Captain Tyler. “I don’t want Dr. Porn fiddling around with my bits. Knowing him it’ll probably wind up on the internet. Sodomy! Now that’s who I need. A doctor, not some damn vet.”

“But, sir,” said Second Lieutenant Rhinotestis, “a vet is a doctor.”

“For animals,” said the captain. “I’ve had this explained to me many times. Porn’s all right for a quick fix if Sodomy’s on vacation or something, but that’s it. Besides, I’m pretty sure he hates me.”

“Sir,” added First Lieutenant Duknerts, “a vet is a
human
doctor. And our vet is Dr. Porn, who loves you dearly, while Sodomy is generally frowned upon, for a variety of reasons.”

“Yes,” interjected Rhinotestis. “He’s... a bit of a butthole, if you’ll pardon the expression, so we tend not to talk to him. Just let him work on the animals and he keeps to himself.”

“Well, if you say so. Testicles have never lied to me before.”

Second Lieutenant Rhinotestis sniffled slightly, then hovered quickly from the room.

“What? Did I say something?”

“You know Angelo’s incredibly sensitive about his appearance!” thundered First Lieutenant Duknerts. “I can’t believe you just said that!”

“He looks like balls. What was I supposed to say?”

First Lieutenant Duknerts pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he shook his head.

“Fine. You’re not yourself. I understand. Let’s just get you to Dr. Porn,” said the first lieutenant. “Corporal Cokkenbawls! Please take Captain Tyler to the vet’s room immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Corporal Christian W. Cokkenbawls, squirming his way to the captain’s side.

“That man... is a snail,” said the captain.

Captain Tyler stood outside of what he remembered as Dr. Porniviriyakul’s office, perplexed at what he was seeing. It was a normal door, just like the rest of the ship, but written on the nameplate was “Dr. Porn.” Tyler knocked and, unlike normal – which was Dr. Porniviriyakul yelling at people to leave him alone – the good doctor actually opened the door.

“Tyler!” cheered Dr. Porn, giving the captain a hug.

“Porn!” replied Captain Tyler, both in reference to the man hugging him and the type of films he loved oh so much.

“What can I do you for, good buddy?”

“We’re friends?”

“I should certainly hope so,” replied the vet with a chuckle, “otherwise what we do in our twice weekly sauna meetings is a little forward.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pornypoo.”

“Pornypoo! I love it!”

“Seriously, doc, I don’t know what the nuts is going on,” said Captain Tyler, genuine fear on his face. “We’re friends, there are all these made-up ranks of enlisted Space Marines on the ship, Space Marshal Orr doesn’t exist, there’s a nymphomaniac onboard going unbanged... Nothing makes any sense!”

“I see,” said the vet, looking severely at Captain Tyler. “Have you put anything strange in your mouth recently?”

“Nothing that I haven’t had thousands of times before.”

“Have you been in contact with any new people or places?”

“I don’t know if I’d call them new,” said the captain. “They’re all probably really old now. Or dead. Or in history books.”

“You’ll need to explain that.”

“Oh, right. We – the old us, anyway – found a time machine and I went into the past.”

“You don’t say. Where did you go?”

“Vaginas mostly. All kinds of them. Ended up spending a lot of time in the twentieth century. Specifically, the nineteen-sixties.”

“Go on.”

“There was this music festival or something. It seemed more like a giant orgy to me. Lots of drugs and women… and dudes. Most were naked.”

“I see.”

“And the ones that
were
wearing clothes didn’t have any underwear on!”

“So, as I’m to understand it, you went back in time and had lots of sex with random people and came back and now you say everything is different?”

“That’s basically the gist of it.”

“I have to say, this really has me stumped.”

“Did I mention it was unprotected sex?”

“No, you had neglected to mention that.”

“Ah, well, yeah. Bareback the whole time.”

“Then I may have a theory.”

“Lay it on me, Pornalicious.”

“By going into the past and, shall we say, bedding your way through time...”

“By bedding, you mean humping, right?”

“Yes, I was just trying to be tactful.”