Summary: In which we are privy to the mental musings of the crewmember assigned to clean up the plomeek soup. 

Disclaimer: Yea, yea, and verily, Paramount and Viaborg doth own the whole kit and kaboodle.  I don't have a claim to it and I certainly don't intend to make a penny off of it.  This is rated R for language -- nothing that I haven't heard ten-year-olds use when they think there aren't any grups around.  Can't imagine that anyone here would be bothered. 

Comments:  Maybe I've finally had too much caffeine and nicotine, or maybe I've just always wondered what poor schmuck had to clean up the soup.  Whatever. 

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SWABBIE'S RANT

Damn it!  What the hell is this stuff made out of anyway?  I'd have an easier time picking tar out of my teeth.  Geez, it's all run down inside the comlink and, dammit, it's gone hard as a rock.  Can't have been here more than half an hour before they called me... probably less... probably called me before the tray even hit the floor. 

I can hear it now:  "Alert, all decks, alert, condition red.  Unidentified culinary object approaching at warp five.  Cleaning crews secure and stand ready to receive incoming."  Translation:  "Get your ass down here, Reiniger, some officer's plotzed on deck five."  Shee-it!  I'm going to need a screw driver to pry this crap out of here. 

This is not what I signed on for.  No siree.  Damn recruitment posters.  What a scam!  "Star Fleet Needs You!"  "Sail The Stars, See The Galaxy."  Yeah, right.  Made it all look like a honeymoon cruise with a stop at Wrigley's every other week, didn't they?  Well, they sure hooked you, Sucker!  One year down and four to go, and I'll bet I get personally acquainted with every last deck plate before I'm through.  Makes me want to jump ship and take my chances with a court martial.  Yeah, not a bad idea.  Chuck it all. 

Speaking of chucking it... wonder what the hell made him pitch a plate of soup out of his cabin?  I'd have thought he was way too stiff for food fights.  Now the rest of the crew, that's another story.  If this were the enlisted Mess, I wouldn't be surprised... not in the least... wouldn't be the first time somebody decided to lob an inedible halfway across the deck.  And this shit sure looks inedible to me.  Just not like an officer, though.  'Specially not him, Mr I'm-So-Cool.  Oh, yeah, right, as if he's never been responsible for a major cleanup before. 

Like Omicron Ceti III.  He gets a buzz on a landing party and the next thing you know we're knee deep in spore spewing daylilies.  And did he have to clean them up?  Noooooooo.  Didn't see any officers down here then, did you?  They get to romp around planetside with floozies out the wazoo, and I get to haul compost and suck seeds out of the air vents.  Didn't mention that when they shoved the enlistment padd across the desk, now, did they? 

I expected excitement.  Hell, a little brush with death every now and then is fine with me.  Gets the juices flowing.  Makes you know you're alive.  Don't mind it at all when I'm cleaning up after a battle.  Never expected it to be a walk in the park, and touching up after a phaser blast... well, that's got some dignity to it.  No, I don't mind that at all.  And I wouldn't expect an officer to be picking up the broken crockery after they pulled our fat out of the fire.  Damned if I could do what they do.  I guess I'd just like a little acknowledgement once in a while.  Would a "thank you" be so far out of line? 

Aw, hell, maybe I can melt this away with a phaser.  Worth a try.  At least it's not all over the ship.  Not like after Psi 2000.  Hehehehe.  Now that was one hell of a good time.  Understand we came close to going down in flames, but I was just too busy playing hide-and-seek in the arboretum with that ever so luscious lab tech to really care.  Ummmm mmmmm.  Oh, yeah, that was a good one. 

Until it was over, of course.  I'll never forgive that idiot, Nageur, for trying to turn the shuttle bay into an Olympic pool.  Damn fool!  He should have had his ass busted back to KP.  Three days to dry it out and another four to kill off all the mold.  And the graffiti!  Damn!  Everywhere you looked.  Seemed like half the crew wanted to be a writer.  You'd think the Federation's "best and brightest" would be able to come up with something more original than grabbing a can of paint and having at the bulkheads.  Took me three hours to scrub "Kirk's A Jerk" off the wall of the turbo lift.  Keep wondering who did that.  Nice 3D letters. 

Got to give Kirk credit, though -- took a trip to the bridge while I was working on that and he didn't even bat an eye.  Some guys would have been chewing duranium and looking to space the perp.  He just gave me a nod and rode up like nothing doing.  Had quite a bruise on his jaw.  Wonder who laid that on him? 

Well, I guess that just about takes care of that.  I get this gear stowed away and I'll have just enough time to hit the rec deck for an hour or so before chow.  Oh, shit!  Speak of the devil.  Where'd he come from? 

"Yes, sir...  Thank you, sir...  Aye, aye, Captain." 

I'll be damned!  He thanked me... and he knew my name!  Well, hell's bells!  Maybe this isn't a waste of time.  I didn't think he'd have a clue who I was.  Certainly puts a shine on my day.  Maybe I'll stick it out after all.  Maybe I'll get a promotion... Get to go on a landing party some day.  Naw, I'm probably dreaming on that one.  Still, it would be nice. 

Oh, well, we should be near Deep Space K-7 in a few weeks.  Maybe we'll pull in and get some shore leave.  Hey, I might be able to relax on the station for a day... maybe two, if I'm lucky.  Can't see much happening there that'll make a mess. 

END