"The Pilot...Or Something Like It"
Houde woke up to cantankerous ramblings of his Albert Einstein alarm clock.
Houde: Science for the win.
He rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses. On the radio some A.M DJ was rambling about how George Lucas has just been beaten to a bloody mess due to a recent announcement that his preparing to write another Star Wars trilogy.
Houde: Good. ****ing Jar Jar.
Today is gonna be a good day.
Doom woke to the sight of a gorgeous brunette next to him.
Doom: Good morning Sexy Brunette girl……..whose name I don’t know.
He rolled over and found a redhead on his other side.
Doom: Good morning to you too Red…….whose name I also can’t remember.
Today was gonna be a good day.
Later at GeneSpliceInvent-O Inc.
Random Girl: Mornin’ Nathaniel!
Houde stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to her direction.
Houde: It’s Nathan. Not Nathaniel. Nathan. And moreover---it’s Houde to you. In fact, after my promotion this morning to Lead Tech…you can just call me “Boss”. Or “God”. Yes. “God” will do.
Random Girl: Ugh. What’s up your ***?
Houde: I’d ask you the same question…but I already met the Boston Red Sox. Buh-bye.
Yep. With a promotion coming his way and a sound burn on the office skank….it was definitely gonna be a good day.
Across town at the local Air Force Base…
Major Payne: DOOOOOOM!
Major Payne: Doom…what in the **** is your problem?!?!?!?
Major Payne: What on Earth made you think that you could sleep with the General’s daughter and then blow up his car?
Doom: 47 mojitos?
Major Payne: You think this is a joke!?!?! You think anyone else is laughing!?!?!
Doom: I know I was………..sir.
The Major turned red in the face. The kinda red your face turns when you eat a jar of jalapenos soaking in Tabasco sauce.
Major Payne: Doom…the only reason you’re not out on your *** is because the General’s daughter has fallen madly in love with you. She’s spent the entire morning begging her daddy not to kick you out.
Major Payne: WHAT!?!?!
Doom: Nothing sir. By the way…how’s the Missus doing?
Major Payne: She’s fine. She’s taking up a new hobby. Something involving nunchukus or something. Wait---how do you know my wife?
Doom: Uuuuuuuhhhhh….I met her at the Christmas party last year.
Major Payne: Oh. Ok. Well dismissed.
The major sat down in his chair with a look of satisfaction on his face from the great ***-chewing he just gave.
Major Payne: Wait a minute…we didn’t get to this base until March of this year. Sonuva---DOOOOOM!
Yep. Today was gonna be a good day.
Later that day---let’s say Lunchtime…
Houde bit into his chilidog.
Houde: Ugh. This is gross. Should’ve gone with the taquitos. I like taquitos. Oh well…at least the day is going good so far. Just gotta wait for the the good news after lunch.
He wiped the side of his mouth and got up from the table. His Jolt cola spilled onto his lap.
Houde: Oh come on!!! Is there nothing sacred about lunch anymore? Damn I hope this isn’t the start of a trend.
Meanwhile across town…
Doom: Mmmmm……I :heart: sushi. So good. Look at you tender fishy morsels. Just begging for me to eat you. And why should I deny you your life’s pleasure? And why should I delay the tasty time that lay before us? Especially tasty for me. Come here you cold wet delicious treats!
Doom grabbed a roll with his chopsticks and inched the bit closer and closer to his mouth.
All of a sudden, the phone rang!
Doom: Information Management, Sgt Doom speaking. You’ve got questions…..I’ve got answers. Sexy answers.
Voice: DOOM! Shut up. I heard about last night. The General wants you in his office in 20 minutes.
Doom: His daughter probably filled him in on all the details from last night and he wants to awards me a medal.
Doom: A medal. You know….for my hard work. Trust me…it was totally medal worthy. You remember that for future reference.
Voice: You a trip!
Doom: I know. Alright….I gotta go. Later days.
Doom hung up the phone.
Doom: Crap on a stick!
And back at Houde’s job…
Houde adjusted his lab coat. He was a little fidgety.
Houde: A little.
Secretary: Don’t be. He’s really a big teddy bear.
Houde: Heh. Thanks. I’ll try to keep that in mind.
Secretary: No…I’m serious. He’s as harmless as a baby. Like yesterday I forgot to take a message for this important call he’d been expecting---and he totally didn’t even notice. He just wanted to continue with me changing his diaper and singing “London Bridges” to him.
Houde: ‘Scuse me?
Secretary: Or like this other time when I was like 2 hours late for work----I thought he was gonna fire me. But instead he just wanted me to scratch him behind his ears. His leg would not stop shaking.
Secretary: Don’t worry. Whatever you did…you’ll be fine.
Houde: I’m just here for him to tell me I got my promotion.
Secretary: You did the finger thing with him too?
Houde: IS IT TIME FOR ME TO GO IN YET!?!?!?
Secretary: Oh yeah. Go ahead. Remember….big baby.
Houde had already determined that that was an image that wouldn’t escape his mind for a long time. Definitely not looking forward to the nightmares later.
He walked thru the smoky glass doors and entered the giant office.
Bossman Bing: Nathaniel! Welcome! Sit sit sit sit…
Houde: It’s Nathan sir.
Bossman Bing: What?
Houde: My name. It’s Nathan. Not Nathaniel.
Bossman Bing: Oh…my bad. Sorry about that. Take a seat Nate.
Bossman Bing: So….Neville….how long you been with GeneSpliceInvent-O?
Houde: Uh…about 7 years now.
Bossman Bing: And that’s been some really productive 7 years. What was your biggest contribution so far?
Houde: Uh..I made these clonebots.
Bossman Bing: Clones? I love Star Wars!!! Tell me…can you make a lightsaber for me?
Houde: That’s not really my area of scientific know-how sir.
Bossman Bing: Oh. Well how about one of those Darth Vader voice things? Can you make me sound like Vader? With the breathing and all that jazz?
Houde: Sir…I splice genes and map DNA strands to find the cure to cancer and diabetes and stuff. I’m the gene-splice part of the company. You want the invent side of the house.
Bossman Bing: Have you cured cancer yet?
Houde: No sir. No one has yet.
Bossman Bing: And that’s why our competitors are beating us! They’re solving and inventing and curing stuff---
Houde: Sir…no one in the world has cured cancer yet.
Bossman Bing: ERRONEOUS! What about that diabetes thing? You fixed that yet?
Houde: No sir. Science has proven that, although it’s hereditary, it can be prevented by a proper diet and---
Bossman Bing: Goddammit man! You can’t make a lightsaber. You can’t make me Darth Vader. You haven’t cured cancer or diabetes. What the hell am I paying you for!?!?!
Houde: Sir---even with all the technology on the planet we’re still YEARS away from being able to cure stuff like that.
Bossman Bing: And I suppose next you’ll be telling me that you’re dragging your *** on the curing AIDS too!?!?!
Bossman Bing: Why the hell are you even in my office!?!?!
Houde: Sir…I thought I was here to discuss my promotion to lead Tech?
Bossman Bing: Promotion!?!?!? Why the hell would I give you a promotion!?!?!
Houde: Well….there was the clonebot thing. My research allowed us to go from making 7-headed goats, to perfect genetic clones of people. A patent which we sold to the govt for $27.8 million. It actually paid for this building here. I was passed over for promotion then because that one scientist in Inventions created that Han Solo blaster that fired silly string. I believe his name was Jonathan Muney….but I think he goes by Moony or Moonmaster or something like that.
Bossman Bing: We have Han Solo blasters that shoot silly string?
Houde: Yes sir.
Bossman Bing: Get out. You’re fired. AND FIX AIDS ON YOUR WAY OUT!!!!
Bossman Bing: You heard me. Out! You’re fired! Done! Kaput! You’ll never splice genes in this town again! Now out! And tell my secretary to come on in….and tell her to bring the gag ball, raccoon suit and paddle.
Houde got up and walked out.
Houde: ****ing George Lucas!
On the Air Force Base...
General Hot Pants: Enter!
Doom: General. Sgt Doom reports as ordered.
General Hot Pants: Stand at ease. You know why you’re here?
Doom: Because I slept with your daughter?
General Hot Pants: That’s not the only thing.
Doom: Because I blew up your car?
General Hot Pants: That too. But there are also other things.
Doom: I had no clue she was married to you sir. She said she was divorced sir. It didn’t even dawn on me until afterwards that the big star on the front door and the mailbox with your last name was all yours sir.
General Hot Pants: What!?!?! You slept with my wife?!?!?!
Doom: What!?!?! No sir!!! Where did you hear such a nasty rumor like that????
General Hot Pants: You just said it! Just now!
Doom: No I didn’t.
General Hot Pants: Yes you did.
Doom: No I didn’t.
General Hot Pants: I just heard you!
Doom: Sir…I’m not calling you a liar….but…..
General Hot Pants: THAT’S IT! I’ve had it with you!!! You’ve done nothing but cause headaches for all the leaders here on base. And I’m sure the clinic isn’t too happy with the sudden rise of base pregnancies.
Doom: Sir…I am not those babies’ daddy. They all said they were on the pill! Plus….those 4 new babies that were just born look nothing like me! Aside from the brown curly hair. And freckles. And birthmark I have on my shoulder. And fairly thicker than average lips. And odd craving for sushi. How can they even want sushi at like 3 weeks old? That’s just weird don’t you think?
General Hot Pants: YOU’RE DONE! I’m kicking you out! You are no longer gonna suckle off of Uncle Sam’s teat!
Doom: Not the best visual image. He’s like what? 150? That’s gotta be one crusty teat. And he’s a dude. How’s that possible?
General Hot Pants: GUARDS!!!!
Several armed men rush into the room and encircle Doom.
Doom: That’s it? 6 men? Come on sir. Don’t insult me.
General Hot Pants: Ahem….
20 more armed men run into the room.
Doom: Well played Montezuma. Well played.
General Hot Pants: Guards…..escort Sgt Doom off the premises of this base and make sure he never returns. And then escort my daughter to the clinic. And my wife.
Doom was quickly overtaken. His rank was ripped from his sleeves and his combat boots were ripped from his feet. It took 10 men to properly restrain him and escort him from the base. As the pulled up to the gate, they quickly heave-hoed Doom over the gate and told him to get away from the base.
He turned and began to walk away. After he took about 10 steps he turned around and looked at the gates. The armed men cocked their guns. Doom looked down at his bare feet.
They didn’t have to take his socks too.
Doom: That’s ok. I LIKE WALKING BAREFOOT!
To be continued…
Tune in tomorrow for Pt.2 of our adventures.