I wouldn’t be surprised if this is illegal, but I’ve had enough of this sobriety shit. I’ve been stuck on this damn ship for six months now; I need something to lighten the load. Gradually I cracked open the fuel compartment of the ship’s torpedo with the end of my wrench. A melodious odor lingered from sludge as it poured into the small bucket in my hands as the chief engineer clambered down the distant ladder of the torpedo bay. The almost but not muppet with flesh flopped down the gangway of the room at full speed, screaming. “What are you doing? Stop, no! Why are you doing this; we need that!”

In due time the liquid continued to drain from the torpedo as the muppet slapped the side of my head repeatedly with the force of a feather duster as I remunerated to the frantic conversation. “I need it more! I haven’t had a drink in months!”

CE: “That’s torpedo propellant! You can’t drink that! There are so many dangerous chemicals in that liquid!

E: “Fuck You! I’m getting my torpedo juice!”

CE: “No! Give it back; there’s a pirate skiff in the system!”

E: “This is a battle cruiser! Use the guns!”

CE: “We have no guns!”

E: “Why don’t you have guns!”

CE: “They don’t work in space!”

E: “That’s a lie!”

CE: “Well, ours don’t!”

E: “Then get a different damn torpedo!”

CE: “No, this is federation property!”

E: “No, it’s mine!”

CE: “Fuck You!”

The blaring claxons and flashing red lights heralded my secured prize as I raised the bucket of torpedo juice moments before the projectile was shunted from the weapon’s room airlock.

E: “Ah shit.”

CE: "That's going to get stuck."

E: "Yep."