Flyn' Solo, 1st Mate Beck. Part 2/5

Personal Log. 1st Mate Beck. 04.05.01

I don't know how Commodore Dip-Shit did it, but that crap stain navigated through a class five asteroid field without so much as a fender-bender. I'd sooner vomit tacks than admit that he might be a better commander than I thought. Something stinks and I aim to find out exactly what that stench is.

At first I wondered if he had two brains in that hollowed out melon on top of his shoulders. Sort of like the Crumgrog who have one brain for going moving forward and one brain for moving backwards (Unfortunately they have not evolved a brain for left or right). Maybe in his noodle he has the brain of an exemplary military leader and a brain in his ass that has corroded due to overexposure to noxious butt fumes. A quick bio scan proved that to be false.

Then I figured it was all a show, his whole "d to the ickle" and "p to the enis", but no one can pass such an erroneous fallacy by my scrutiny. Finally, I thought maybe he was an idiot savant, but I'm damn sure he's just an idiot. I'm not ready to believe that turd is a pilot of any caliber.

And what was up with Officer Varook. She was at his side the whole time, her giant mangos only inches from his shnoz. If Cretians get that worked up over flying a ship, I should take that lovely alien down to the VR training room and show her what I can do with a P-13 fighter and sixteen hundred rounds of plasma. That'll get her nice and juicy.