Voncats, Jean Sprat. Part 3/4

Personal Log. Commodore's Liaison, Jean Sprat. 04.15.3001.

The Commodore had a trying day, yesterday. First, he fell very ill. Apparently he forgot that he was allergic to clams and had New England clam chowder for lunch. He was delirious all night, claiming that thieves were out to steal the recipe for clam chowder.

Fergie #3, one of the Commodore's replacement poodles, met her end yesterday as well. Johnny Junior's pets have always had a low life expectancy, so I keep replacements close by just in case. Well, Fergie #1 is still walking upside down like a crab, and Fergie #2 was given to the Corinthian's to make amends for destroying a couple of their satellites, so I went to Fergie #3. It was just a matter of time, though before an unfortunate accident terminated on of the dogs. Unfortunately for Fergie #3, it met quite a gruesome death. Likely due to his illness, Johnny Junior, went to give Fergie#3 a bath and inadvertently set the shower sprays to clean a Cretian Dune Bug instead of canine. A Dune Bug, which can withstand extreme heat, is washed in significantly higher temperatures.

Luckily, I was able to dispose of the charred poodle corpse and replace it with Fergie #4 before Johnny Junior knew anything was amiss. That leaves me with one healthy dog, and another that looks like it's possessed by a demon.

While I was tossing Fergie #3 into the waste ballasts, apparently the severely ill Commodore had an unfortunate incident with a Voncat peacekeeping ship. At least that is the story 1st Mate, Beck spewed at me while ranting about the Commodore's incompetence. I tried to question him about the incident, but Beck was spitting so much vinegar I couldn't learn much.

It all seemed so strange. In my experience with the Voncats, they show as much interest in peacekeeping as they do in warfare. There's a Voncat proverb that states: Quibble during the day, apologize during the night, why not forget it all and drown ourselves in a pint.

Which reminds me of a lesson I learned while in a Voncat pub. Never do shots with a Voncat unless you want to make your bed on the barroom floor and wake up the next morning with nothing more on than a hangover.