Thursday, June 02, 2005

Captain Stupid Part 2

One week to go before flying out to Coruscant for the “Death Star” briefings. I’m beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t start calling myself Captain Stupid instead of letting the title sit with its current owner. He still hasn’t returned the plans to me, which I knew would happen. I’m supposed to be studying the technical layout of the freakin’ turbolaser units in my department and instead the plans are with the most annoying person on the Devastator.

After I checked out of the office today, I moseyed over to Captain Stupid’s quarters. He hasn’t returned any of my vid screen messages, so the smartest option seemed to be prying the plans out of his cold, stupid, stupid hands.

Before I can hit the visitor button on his door, it swings open and I am greeted by a shirtless, pantsless (but not underwearless) Captain Stupid. He’s surprisingly fit for being so, well, stupid. In fact, he’s shockingly fit – I am extremely disturbed by the fact that his forearm muscle appears to be bigger than my entire head. It must be true what they say about these Imperial uniforms – the drab gray DOES have a slimming effect.

I am also disturbed by the fact that I’m disturbed more about Captain Stupid’s muscle tone instead of the fact that he’s standing with just a thin piece of fabric guarding his loins.

Captain Stupid seems shocked to see me. “Oh, um, hey Grumpy Moff. What are you doing here?” he asks in an atypically wavering voice.

“Look, I really gotta get my plans back. I need to start studying the station layout before I ship out,” I say, stretching my neck to look behind Captain Stupid’s chiseled pecs. “Hey, is that it right there on your desk? Are you transmitting it to someone?”

Captain Stupid cocks his head awkwardly and purses his lips. “All right, all right, you got me. I’m a Rebel spy.”

“What?”

“AAAAAAAAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I fooled you for a second, didn’t I? Yeah, yeah, I got my mom on the vid screen phone right now. I was just so excited about the plans, I mean have you seen the size of the station? I was counting the turbolaser turrets – it turns out there’s exactly 5,262 units on there. My mom’s an ex-contract designer so when I told her about the design, she got really excited – she’s more excitable than I am, if you can believe that. I had to show her, she gets really jealous about stuff like this and I’m not even going on the mission – “

“Captain Stupid, you can’t send the plans out to anyone, not even your mom. The Emperor will kill you – and me! And I’ve heard the Emperor’s surprisingly strong despite his appearance.”

“Grumpy Moff, get that bantha out of your ass! It’s just my mom. I told you she’s a designer – she’s just looking at this from an architectural point of view. She teaches a course in design and I’m sure she’d love to share some of the design tips she’s learned from this to her students. Hey, maybe then can even have you come in as a guest speaker, whadaya think? You can tell them all about turbolaser…”

Deep breath, I tell myself. “Um, yeah, that sounds great. Can I get my plans back NOW?”

Captain Stupid’s eyes shift around for a few moments. I think I can see the wheels in his head slowly grinding out my request before bursting into hyperspace. “Sure, sure. Just, um, ah, come on in. MA! MA! It’s the turbolaser maintenance guy I told you about! Remember, the one that I got the plans from! I was just –“

I shove Captain Stupid out of the way (this takes way more physical effort than I could have possibly imagined), step through a disastrously messy living space, and work my way to the vid screen and my precious “Death Star” plans sitting in front of it. “Mrs. Captain Stupid, I’m sorry to take this back on such short notice, but I need these plans back. I hope it doesn’t disappoint your students too much.”

Mrs. Stupid glances at Captain Stupid and then focuses back on me. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

I shut off the holopad and stuff it back into my pocket, secure in the knowledge that I’ll never have to deal with Captain Stupid again after a week. “Well, um, have a good day out there on…uh…”

“Alderaan.”

“Yeah, Alderaan. Have a nice day on Alderaan.”

I hop scotch over a pile of uniforms here, some papers there, and manage to ungracefully knock over a vid frame holding a photo of Captain Stupid and Alderaan’s hot young female senator, causing the image to static up and transform into nothing more than a series of horizontal lines and the floating video head of Captain Stupid. I turn back to the vid screen and say, “Mrs. Stupid, you should really encourage your son to be more clean.”

“Oh yes, that’s something we’ll discuss. Thank you for thinking about my dear Captain Stupid, young man.”

“Whatever,” I mumble under my breath as I leap over another stack of papers and fall out of the room. At least I won’t have to deal with any Stupid or Stupid-related people when I get to the “Death Star.”

I’ll begin reviewing the plans tomorrow. I need a Corellian ale right now.

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