EPISODE CLX
Jeffy walked out into the corridor, his mind reeling. How could she have done this, he wondered. How could she have betrayed him, him, Mr. Jeffy, Chief Engineering Officer,
Lucky Seven? It didn't make sense.
His feet began moving, their destination undecided as yet, shuffling down the hall, paper booties crackling with each step. The smock he was wearing billowed behind him, open at the back, revealing his Space
Fleet standard issue boxers, yet he noticed none of it. His mind kept replaying her dire confession..."I put the moves on him...I put the moves on him...", and he shuddered uncontrollably as the words echoed
in his head.
"Well, if that's the way she wants it", he mumbled, "that's just fine with me. I don't need her anyway...", his voice cracked with emotion and he reached for his handkerchief. Recalling
that it was still in his uniform, he pulled his smock to his face and blew violently. When the moment passed, Jeffy wiped at his eyes and looked around, taking in his surroundings for the first time.
He was on Deck-4 near the enlisted men's barracks. Trying to recall the layout of the level, he took a right turn and made his way down the corridor. Finding the door he wanted, he placed his hand over
the control mechanism and entered before the door was fully open. He walked purposefully across the large room, weaving his way through the myriad of tables, until he reached his destination. A man
came over and stood on the other side of the counter from him.
"Is there something I can help you with?", the stranger asked.
Jeffy looked the man in the *eye. "Gimme a drink", he replied forcefully, "and make it a double?"
"From the looks of ya', I'd say you've already had one too many", the other quipped.
"Thanks for the concern, Mom", Jeffy retorted sarcastically, "but I'll be the one to decide when I've had enough."
The bartender bristled at Jeffy's belligerent tone. "Listen, pal", he suggested, "this here's my bar, and I reserve the right not to serve rummies. 'Specially when they come in wearing a dress."
"Take it easy, Roger", a familiar voice interrupted, "he's with me."
Jeffy looked up from the bar and over at the owner of the voice, immediately recognizing the familiar features. "Thanks", Jeffy muttered.
"Don't mention it", Broski replied, pouring a shot full of booze into his ear.
*A note to the reader: Utilizing my fine edged literary skills I was able to offer a clue as to the identity of the man that addressed Mr. Jeffy, prior
to revealing his actual personage. In stating that Jeffy "looked the man in the eye", the observant reader would immediately deduce that he was in fact speaking to Retired Gunnery Sergeant, Buck Marx, due
to the fact that he possesses but one ocular organ. Those of you that dismissed this evidence due to the fact that Sgt. Marx had replaced his fake eye in an earlier episode are stupid.
Thank you.
Some of you may have noticed that Episode CLX lacks a formal title.
Well aren't you just geniuses?!? Why don't you just give yourselves a big friggin' hand, you pompous, obsessive, detail maggots?!? Let's forget, for the moment, the time and effort I put forth
to entertain you insipid, back-stabbing ingrates!!
Completely disregard the hours of time I spent researching the exact movements of hospital-wear to portray a rigidly accurate account of Mr. Jeffy's billowing attire. Simply sit back and wallow in your self
righteousness like so many Kathy Lee Gifford's, doting on your rotten kids and unfaithful man.
Take pride in your intuitive gifts of deduction as you destroy the one good thing to come out of FCI Milan since Tim Allen, and bask in the glory of your own treachery!
If you didn't notice the missing title, never mind.
