“Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!”
“Cap’n, we’re already going full speed. And what do you mean ‘torpedoes’? We’re in space, for God’s sake!” Ensign Holtz replied with a confused look.
“Ignore him. He’s just quoting Civil War military leaders again.” Tactical Officer Brady explained patiently. “Now, make sure the shields are up. Very soon we will be under attack. By highly trained space dolphins, no less.”
“How do you know this?”
Brady shook a sheaf of papers. “Don’t you read the script?”
Laura turned off the TV.
“Honestly. This show gets stupider every week. Trained space dolphins, my foot.” She got off the couch and walked to the door of the kitchen.
“Laura, honey, did you finish you’re homework?” Her mother was chopping vegetables and meat for that night’s dinner. She occasionally slipped a piece to Mercury, the canine laying on the floor at her feet. He responded by lifting one of his heads and chomping the meat in one bite.
“Yes, I finished it. All three papers. Oh, yeah, we need more ink. And another printer. It exploded again. I don’t think it liked the story was printing.”
Mercury lifted a head. “It was probably the grammatical errors,” he said snippily, with a slightly British accent. “And don’t think I’ll eat your homework for you again. Last time it gave me gas.”
“Sure. Blame that on my homework.”
Max slammed the book shut. “Why do I keep reading these stupid books? I don’t even like them.”
“Maybe it’s because you’re stupid,” his little sister retorted.
“Clever,” he sneered. Max got up and threw the book on the table, where it scattered the other rejected novels. He snapped his fingers and they rearranged themselves back into a neat pile. “C’mere, Spot!” he called to his pooch pal.
The little dog scurried up to Max and sniffed his hand for treats. He yipped and growled until Max pulled a biscuit from his pocket and fed it to the dog.
“Hmph. Imagine a dog with two heads that can talk. Crazy, huh?” He petted Spot, who was currently chewing a spot on his leg. “Walk time!” The dog jumped excitedly, all six legs flailing, and they crossed to the portal swirling in the wall.
I put down the pencil, rubbed my eyes, and let loose a large yawn.
“Done for the night?” my friend, Gary, asked. “You’ve been writing for a long time.” He flipped an M&M into his mouth.
“Remind me not to write when I’ve been awake for 18 hours. The stories are starting to get weird. Trained space dolphins, talking six-legged dogs, exploding printers. You know, the usual delusions.”
“You haven’t been awake for eighteen hours. It just feels that way because of the shift in the space-time continuum.”
“I hate that cliché.” I yawned again. Gary shrugged, and passed me the M&Ms.
“Whatever. Just make sure you close the airlock this time when you go to bed. Last time you left it open, and I’ve never found my evaporation ray.”
I blinked and stared at him for a second. Then I just shook my head and headed out the door. I couldn’t wait to get to my room and plug myself in for the night.