Read Online Screw the Universe by Stephen Schwegler, Eirik Gumeny - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephen Schwegler, Eirik Gumeny
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Santa.”
“I’ve got an idea,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul, striding boldly onto the bridge in a stunning example of excellent timing.
***
Captain Oswald Van Vanderhoort Van Tyler came to, dressed in red fur and piloting a sled propelled by rocket-powered reindeer over Canada.
“What the hell?” he asked.
There was no one there to answer him.
A tiny viewscreen in the sled’s dashboard fizzled to life. It was a smirking Space Marshal Orr.
“What the hell?” Captain Tyler asked again.
“Congratulations,” said Marshal Orr. “You’ve been promoted to Santa Claus.”
“That’s a Federation position?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t appear to be able to move, Marshal.”
“Yeah, First Lieutenant Duknerts thought it would be better to restrain you, just tie you to the sled as tightly as possible.”
“The straps are crushing my boys.”
“That was Private Redshirt.”
“Ah.”
“Anyway, apparently most of this is automated. You just sit back and let the sled do the work. Kids get their presents, parents don’t have to explain how we accidentally murdered Santa, and everyone’s stockings get stuffed.”
“As soon as I get out of here, I’m gonna stuff your stocking.”
“Was that a threat? Or a come on?”
“I... I really don’t know. I’m still a little woozy.”
“Right, well, just take a nap then. You’ll be a lot less likely to fuck things up if you’re asleep.”
“Twenty bucks says you’re wrong.”
“I’m going to go now, Tyler. Merry Christmas.”
“Up your mother, sir.”
The screen fizzled back out. Santa Tyler looked around at the stars flying past him. Then he shrugged and swung his bound-together legs up onto the sled bench so he could take a nap. In the process, his foot flicked a bright green switch.
“Huh, that was –”
The sled, and the reindeer, exploded.
What Have I Done?
The Dumbassedness of First Lieutenant Duknerts
Captain Oswald Van Vanderhoort Van Tyler sat at his desk, browsing the seediest pornography websites the universe had to offer, when he got the sudden and uncontrollable urge to find out more about one of his bestest friends, First Lieutenant Archibald Duknerts.
“Computer,” said the captain.
“Yes?”
“Send First Lieutenant What’s His Name in here.”
“Duknerts, sir?”
“That’s the ‘Nert.”
On the bridge, the crew was performing the same menial tasks they performed everyday when the computer’s voice came over the loudspeaker.
“First Lieutenant Duknerts. The captain would like to have a word with you in his chambers.”
“Really?” asked First Lieutenant Duknerts, full of dread.
“Yes. He sounded quite adamant about it.”
“He probably wants to become butt-buddies with you,” theorized Private Yvette Redshirt.
“I thought we were butt-buddies,” said the first lieutenant to his girlfriend.
“Oh, sweetheart. You have NO IDEA what I consider a butt-buddy.”
“Oh. Oh!” said a very curious, and now very aroused, First Lieutenant Duknerts. “Hold that thought, then, ‘til I’m done meeting with Captain Farthead. Someone else make sure that we don’t crash into something while I’m gone.”
“On it,” said the computer.
First Lieutenant Duknerts knocked on the captain’s door.
“Enter!” beckoned Tyler.
First Lieutenant Archibald Duknerts walked in and sat in the chair directly next to his commanding officer.
“What’s up, sir?”
“Not much, ‘Nerts. Just thought we could have a chat. Get to know the inner you. You know, without the anal violation.”
“I’m touched, sir, that you’ve taken an interest. And I’m very glad you’ve decided to forgo the butt stuff.”
“Well, I imagine you get enough of that from Redshirt. How’s things working
“I’ve got an idea,” said Dr. Porniviriyakul, striding boldly onto the bridge in a stunning example of excellent timing.
***
Captain Oswald Van Vanderhoort Van Tyler came to, dressed in red fur and piloting a sled propelled by rocket-powered reindeer over Canada.
“What the hell?” he asked.
There was no one there to answer him.
A tiny viewscreen in the sled’s dashboard fizzled to life. It was a smirking Space Marshal Orr.
“What the hell?” Captain Tyler asked again.
“Congratulations,” said Marshal Orr. “You’ve been promoted to Santa Claus.”
“That’s a Federation position?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t appear to be able to move, Marshal.”
“Yeah, First Lieutenant Duknerts thought it would be better to restrain you, just tie you to the sled as tightly as possible.”
“The straps are crushing my boys.”
“That was Private Redshirt.”
“Ah.”
“Anyway, apparently most of this is automated. You just sit back and let the sled do the work. Kids get their presents, parents don’t have to explain how we accidentally murdered Santa, and everyone’s stockings get stuffed.”
“As soon as I get out of here, I’m gonna stuff your stocking.”
“Was that a threat? Or a come on?”
“I... I really don’t know. I’m still a little woozy.”
“Right, well, just take a nap then. You’ll be a lot less likely to fuck things up if you’re asleep.”
“Twenty bucks says you’re wrong.”
“I’m going to go now, Tyler. Merry Christmas.”
“Up your mother, sir.”
The screen fizzled back out. Santa Tyler looked around at the stars flying past him. Then he shrugged and swung his bound-together legs up onto the sled bench so he could take a nap. In the process, his foot flicked a bright green switch.
“Huh, that was –”
The sled, and the reindeer, exploded.
What Have I Done?
The Dumbassedness of First Lieutenant Duknerts
Captain Oswald Van Vanderhoort Van Tyler sat at his desk, browsing the seediest pornography websites the universe had to offer, when he got the sudden and uncontrollable urge to find out more about one of his bestest friends, First Lieutenant Archibald Duknerts.
“Computer,” said the captain.
“Yes?”
“Send First Lieutenant What’s His Name in here.”
“Duknerts, sir?”
“That’s the ‘Nert.”
On the bridge, the crew was performing the same menial tasks they performed everyday when the computer’s voice came over the loudspeaker.
“First Lieutenant Duknerts. The captain would like to have a word with you in his chambers.”
“Really?” asked First Lieutenant Duknerts, full of dread.
“Yes. He sounded quite adamant about it.”
“He probably wants to become butt-buddies with you,” theorized Private Yvette Redshirt.
“I thought we were butt-buddies,” said the first lieutenant to his girlfriend.
“Oh, sweetheart. You have NO IDEA what I consider a butt-buddy.”
“Oh. Oh!” said a very curious, and now very aroused, First Lieutenant Duknerts. “Hold that thought, then, ‘til I’m done meeting with Captain Farthead. Someone else make sure that we don’t crash into something while I’m gone.”
“On it,” said the computer.
First Lieutenant Duknerts knocked on the captain’s door.
“Enter!” beckoned Tyler.
First Lieutenant Archibald Duknerts walked in and sat in the chair directly next to his commanding officer.
“What’s up, sir?”
“Not much, ‘Nerts. Just thought we could have a chat. Get to know the inner you. You know, without the anal violation.”
“I’m touched, sir, that you’ve taken an interest. And I’m very glad you’ve decided to forgo the butt stuff.”
“Well, I imagine you get enough of that from Redshirt. How’s things working
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