Harvey choked, his eyes and nose streaming violently. Yargal’s Rocket Fuel Special with its bright green glow-in the-dark extra hot spicy sauce had nearly blown his head off.
Yargal thumped him on the back with a slimy tentacle. ‘Sorry, sir. Was it a bit spicy for you?’
‘What did you put in it?’ he gasped.
‘I told you – pilchards, pineapple jelly, mozzarella and extra hot spicy sauce … with just a hint of rocket fuel.’
‘Rocket fuel! You actually put rocket fuel in the sauce? I thought that was just a nickname.’
(That’s the one snag of having a Yargillian as Medical Officer and Ship’s Cook. They can eat pretty much anything (even boiled Brussels sprouts) and they don’t know that you humans are quite, er … picky eaters.
Especially when it comes to eating food that can actually, literally and painfully melt your tonsils.)
‘Yargal! You could have killed me!’
Maxie burst out laughing. ‘Death by pizza! Not a very heroic way to die!’
Harvey lay under the water cooler at the back of the bridge with his mouth wide open and turned the tap on FULL. Water poured down his throat, splashed all over his face and splattered onto the deck. Snuffles stood over him trying to catch the drips with his huge rubbery tongue. It wasn’t a very impressive position for a spaceship captain to be in. Maxie rolled her eyes.
‘I’ll take command if you’re not well, Captain,’ said Gizmo, heading for the captain’s chair in the centre of the bridge.
‘NO!’ snapped Maxie and Scrummage, and Gizmo reluctantly sat back down.
‘I’m sorry, Captain,’ said Yargal sadly and squelched damply off the bridge, taking Snuffles with her.
The lights on the computer’s console flickered busily and it bleeped importantly.
‘Captain, I hate to interrupt you because:
a) it’s rude
and
b) you are obviously very busy taking a shower …
‘Oh, by the way, can I just mention that we have a fully functional bathroom on the ship with hot and cold running water, a soap dispenser and a plug on a bit of string?
‘Anyhow, I’m picking up an urgent distress signal from a SupaCosmicCargo ship in the Gamma Delton XL Belt.’ It paused for effect, then added: ‘It’s carrying a cargo of Techno-tium.’
‘Techno-tium? TECHNO-TIUM!’ cried Scrummage. ‘Speckled vomit!’