Sunday April 12, 2009
Narrator:Aboard the aft segment of the still-in-two-pieces mercenary warship Touch-And-Go. . .
High Olympus 'Bot:We're just about ready to make the join, but there's a hitch.
Narrator:(Kerchak's pants are still three hundred and sixty-three hours away._
Elf:We didn't order any hitches. What's the problem?
High Olympus 'Bot:We need everybody off the ship, but the girl in the processing core won't leave.
Elf:What girl? Ventura's been taking meals in her quarters for two weeks now.
High Olympus 'Bot:Ventura. . . that's the one. She frightens us, and chases us away.
Elf:Take me there.
High Olympus 'Bot:Can I just give you directions?
Narrator:High Olympus Shipyard, Fabber Feed Six. . .
Elf:Aardman! Break into Ventura's quarters and report to me immediately.
Aardman:Is something wrong, Commander?
Elf:Less talk, more breaking and entering.
Elf:Ventura! What are you doing here!
Elf:Why does suit telemetry say you're still in your quarters back in the yards?
Para Ventura:Because that's what I told it to say. Telemetry hacks are kids' stuff. I've been working without you pestering me for twelve days now.
Para Ventura:Because I can.
Elf:You know, I could use that same reasoning to twist your head off and feed it to the fabber.