Toes!

Captain Seymour Dicklogic admired the fleet. He furrowed his brow and clenched his fists in approval. There were twelve ships today. Doctor Firm-Posterior's toes.

"Good morning Captain♥ According to the script, you're supposed to skirt the event horizon before diving straight in and firing the sub-ether cannons at full power."

"Cliff hanger ending?" He asked, there were other parts of the Doctor to admire, but the surfeit of toes was nearest.

"Mid-season climax surely. They even fixed the teleprompter in the cosmogalactibath." She pointed. It was, indeed, working.

Captain Seymour Dicklogic admired the hand too, also with six fingers. Doctor Firm-Posterior came from a planet where base-12 was normal. "It's never been the same since you were possessed by the headbanging psychic aliens. The Ayseedeesee."

Doctor Firm Posterior blushed, she only vaguely remembere that episode, she had been stoned on cold medication and the ratings had been three times higher than their previous record, The Bikini Apocalypse.

"Is there anything else wierd?"

"We could have Tiffany Bangbangbangbangkaboom ask a script writer nicely." She held out a towel, "time to get out." The captain did. "Hello, sailor!"

---

"You totally missed the mud wrestling with chocolate sauce, where were you?"

"Getting my doom bra upgraded. Look, it even has sublight drives."

"Cor!"

HUMMMM... VWEEEEP!

The bridge hummed cheerfully, the door swished swishily and Captain Seymour Dicklogic sauntered manfully onto the bridge, no need for an angry striding, doubtless there would be plenty of that later. He noticed. "Ensign Lovelyjugs, you're back!"

BEEP!

"You're just in time," the master-at-arms, Tiffany Bangabangabangakaboom chimed cheerfully.

The science officer looked glum, it was in his job description. "We have experimentally determined that we are in deep trouble."

Captain Seymour Dicklogic grunted manfully, "how deep? I eat trouble for breakfast." He ignored Doctor Firm Posterior's embarrassed squeak, "neck deep? Ankle deep inverted?"

"Sorry sir," the Science Officer noted glumly, "Deep Trouble. The black hole on screen for all our fans to bask in its glory."

"There's nothing out there." Captain Seymour Dicklogic observed observantly, "Lovely shade of dark black. Even the white bits are black." He noted that the teleprompter on the bridge wasn't working very well today.

"Yes, it's a black hole. Not a pink one."

"Kya!" Communications Playbeing Slime Dispenser squeaked inappropriately.

The Captain spotted a flaw, a lack of blackness in the black. Some of the white bits were still white, "what are those dots? Bad pixels?"

The science officer checked his sensors for excess azure hue, "we launched a series of researsh probes to determine how deep Deep Trrouble is."

"And?" Captain Seymour Dicklogic ejaculated the interrogative with a manful grunt.

"I am afraid we are out script writers." The Science Officer admitted cheerfully.

"So we'll have to ad lib our way out of this mess."

Doctor Firm Posterior held out a brown paper bag, Whizzo's Sweets and Condiments. Certificate 18. "Plot device? Strawberry, Chocolate, Mint, Mullet, Plutonium or I think that might be Fulminated Nyborg? I have jam bubbles too?" She held out a second, significantly more dangerous bag.

"Thank you," Captain Seymour Dicklogic plunged his fist into the bag and ended up with a bright blue one. He popped it in his mouth and was pleasantly surprised when it detonated.

Tiffany Bangbangbangbangkaboom proposed that they pressed buttons randomly until something exploded. It worked in series one when most of the buttons hadn't actually been connected to anything serious, so it should work now.

FOOM!

"Well, we didn't really need the teleprompter anyway," the pilot wafted at the smoke ineffectively.

Captain Seymour Dicklogic contemplated how manly his reflection looked in the glistening panels, "How about we fire the sub-ether cannon and follow it down?"

"What!" The first officer howled, "follow the script? Are you insane?" He bellowed in his squeaky voice. He took a deep breath, such outbursts were worthy of being redshirted. "Sorry, that was scripted. Sure, why not."

"Slime Dispenser?" The Science Officer asked, "how much azure hue have we got?"

"Half a bucket, but I have three buckets in the fermentinator." Communications Playbeing Slime Dispenser held up a bucket. "It's going all runny, we should probably use it sooner rather than later."

"We could fire the Thrustinator too, that way we'd follow the sub-ether wavefront almost instawonky." The Science officer added.

"Prepare for maximal thrusting!" The Captain declared.

WOOP WOOP WOOP AROOGAH! Cough gasp wheeze.

"Oo Matron!"

Doctor Firm Posterior gave Ensign Lovelyjugs a plot device, "mind the green ones, they are amazing."

GAWUBBAWUBBA BWARK!

Captain Seymour Dicklogic sat manfully on his captain's chair and declared manfully, "there's only one last thing."

SILENCE!

No one had any idea how Ensign Lovelyjugs managed that, but it was incredibly dramatic.

"Do we have enough banjoes?"