Chapter 35: What’s Mine Is Yours

At Blue Base, Tucker, Bell and Caboose are talking on the upper level.

"Man, Caboose." Tucker starts. "You were asleep for a long time. What were you dreaming about?"

"Oh, nothing." Caboose responds. "I do not like to dream. I try not to think while I'm sleeping."

"That pretty much how you function while you're awake, too."

"I think consistency is important." 

Church arrives at the top of the base. "Well, you look okay. Then again, that's just the armor. How do you feel?"

Caboose: Great! ...Who're you?

Church: Oh, come on! Not this again! How can you seriously not remember me?

Caboose: Oh, of course! I remember you... you're Marvin!

Church: I'm Church!

Caboose: I think I would remember a name that ridiculous. Nope, you are definitely Phil.

Church: You killed me with the tank.

Caboose: Dave!

Church: You insulted my girlfriend. You called her a cow.

Caboose: Karen!

Tucker: Dude, he called her a slut.

Caboose: Phineas?

Church: Your whole life is based around pleasing me.

Caboose: Wally.

Church: In fact, I think you're kind of obsessed with being my best friend.

Caboose: Milo?

Caboose turns around and whispers to Tucker, but it is loud enough that Church can hear.

Caboose: Psst. The new guy is pretty full of himself.

Church: New guy? What the- I'm not the new guy. You're the new guy!

Tucker: I don't know. I kinda like it. I could get used to calling you Rookie.

Church: Oh, yea? Could you get used to me beating you to death?

"That's mean Church." Bell says.

"Grow a pair Bell!" 

"But I'm a girl." Bell mutters.

Caboose, again, turns to Tucker.

Caboose: Psst. What's wrong with the rookie? He seems mad.

Church: Oh, son of a bitch.

Caboose: Susan?

The camera then switches to red base, where Donut is attempting to jump onto the upper level, with Grif watching over him from above. Donut is making grunting noises as he jumps.

Grif: Donut, there is no way you can jump that high.

Donut pauses for a second after he lands.

Donut: Yes I can.

Donut continues jumping, chanting "Yes I can!" as he jumps. Simmons walks up to Grif.

Simmons: What the hell is he doing?

Grif: Losing a bet.

Donut lands back on the lower floor.

Donut: Oh, I almost got it that time! Are you sweating yet, sucker?

Grif: No, I can't sweat. Simmons' stupid sweat glands don't even work right.

Simmons: What? They were working when I gave them to you.

Grif: Please. I'm not moist in any of the usual places. If you want them back so bad, take 'em.

Simmons sighs.

Simmons: I can't. Sarge says that sweat makes my cyborg parts rusty. So, I'm cooled by Freon now.

Grif: Ah, delicious Freon.

Grif starts to cough violently.

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Simmons: Grif, are you alright? Are my lungs ok? Hey, wait a minute. Are you smoking inside your helmet again?

Grif: What? No!

Grif blows out smoke from his helmet as he turns away from Simmons.

Grif: ...Oops.

Simmons: Dammit. I knew this would happen. And how many snack cakes have you had today?

Grif: None.

Simmons: ...

Grif: Ok, five... or more.

Donut grunts in the background.

Grif: Baker's dozen at most.

Simmons: Do you even know how many are in a baker's dozen?

Grif: By my count?

Donut, again, grunts in the background.

Grif: Forty-eight.

Simmons: Alright. That's it. No more smoking, no more drinking, and no more overeating, chubby! You're not going to ruin my body parts the same way you ruined yours.

Grif: That's ok. I can think of different ways to ruin them.

A loud noise comes from where Donut was.

Donut: Ah! Ah! Ow! Ahhhhh! Who left the spleen ball where someone could trip on it? I think I broke something. Simmons, I need your ovaries!

Simmons: Ugh, I really hate this army.

Sarge arrives.

Sarge: Grif; Simmons 2.0! I just got off the horn to Command. I'm afraid we have a situation.

Simmons: Ah, don't tell me they canceled the holiday party again! Those cheap bastards. All I wanted was one night of care-free dancing. But no! I ask you when it will be Simmons' turn? When?!

Grif and Sarge turn to look at each other before continuing.

Sarge: Uh, actually, the problem is with Lopez.

Grif: Don't tell me. The Consulate General from Spanish Land is coming, and without Lopez, we don't have anyone to translate.

Simmons: There's no such thing as Spanish Land, you retard.

Grif: Yes there is. They have those, uh... uh, waterslides. And all that salsa!

Simmons: No, they don't.

Grif: Well, I guess you would know.

Simmons: What's that supposed to mean? For the last time, I'm Dutch-Irish!

Grif: Hey, don't let your fiery Latin temper get out of control. I was just trying to make a point.

Sarge: Can it, Frankenstein. We've got a pot on the front burner, and it's a-boilin' over. I've just learned that Command implanted Lopez with secret instructions detailing the next phase of our operations. Do you have any idea what this means?

Grif: I uh... uh, Simmons? You want to take this one?

Simmons: Were you not listening again? What the hell were you thinking about?

Grif: Certainly not waterslides, I can tell you that much. Or salsa.

Sarge: What it means is that if we don't get back Lopez before the Blues uncover our secret plans, we'll be up pooper creek without a paddle.

Grif: Ew. Gi-a... that's gross!

Sarge: I'm talking about being lost in a forest of filth without a compass. Swimmin' in a river of sick with no floaties on. Drivin' blind, in to the tunnel of-

Simmons: Sir, I think we get the picture. The very, very disturbing picture.

Sarge: You sure? I could go on.

Grif: I'm sure you could. But no. Really.

Sarge: Just one more?

Grif: Stop.

Sarge: Come on, they're fun. Simmons, you try one. I'll start you off. Flyin' by the seat of your blank, with a blank in the blank. Eh?

The screen fades black.

Simmons: Sorry sir, I'm not good at word games.

Sarge: Ah, you're both a couple lousy blanks.

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02-15-2023

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