It was a happy day, a great day. It was a big wave day! Kowabunga! At least that’s how it started out.
We were cruising in the vicinity of Ceti Alpha VI when we picked up a distress signal from the U.S.S. Winter Soldier, requesting assistance with their Genesis Torpedo, and in desperate need of a good wave. Great, another Gremmie poser wanna be.
“This is the Kahuna of the IKV Kowabunga, ” I called out through the vastness covered by subspace radio.
“Kahuna?! Great! I’ve heard of you. This is J. F. Kerry. We are having problems with our Genesis version ME Wave Maker 2. Any ideas how to set the timer on this?”
Ever hear of “read the manual,” Feddie-boy?
“Yes,” I heard myself respond, and proceeded to tell him how to set it, and next time to use the Open Source line of the Genesis Torpedo Wave Makers. “Don’t forget to launch toward a large planetary body, and be ready with the warp engines.”
“The warp what?!”
“Sir,” I heard another voice cut in, “that’s the propulsion system. Sort of like the impulse engines on PCF 44. Remember, Chrstmas on Bajor, sir?”
“Oh yeah, right. Get my lucky hat, will ya. The one the CIA guy gave me on that run. And get those secret service interceptors out of my way…I want to make sure I get a good ride.”
By now, I had put two and two together and came up with that uber-gremmie, John Flipper Kerry. Just Great!
I had Kohath, my helmsman set a course for the Winter Soldier. Just in case he has a major wipeout, I wanted to get it filmed for prosperity.
We got there, following the transmissions that he conviniently left on, and watched from a position far enough out that we wouldn’t get into a collision when the inevitable wipeout did come.
We watched on all monitors as he launched the Genesis Torpedo at a small moon, and thought, figures, want’s a ripple, not a real wave, and realized that that was no moon, but a space station. POOF! went the Deathstar, and the resulting shockwaves, a tad more than the ripple that I was sure Flipper Kerry was expecting shot out like a storm, catching the Winter Soldier in a broadside, flipping the craft end over end, right into one of the secret service interceptors.
“God @#%&*! What the effin’ do you think you’re doing?” I heard Kerry blast the pilot of the interceptor he rammed into. “You caused me to have a wipeoout,” whined Kerry, and continued with a string of expletives that even I refuse to repeat.
The other interceptors danced around the U.S.S Winter Soldier like so many tribbles in a frying pan. My crew howled with laughter at the surfing ability of this surfer wannabe, although taken aback by his blatent disregard for the safety of his security personel. We could care less if he crashed into a small planetoid, but to take honorable warriors out with hime, and then blame them for his bad surfing, that was too much.
Kahuna
