Wull, it has been a verree busy week. First, we got ourselves comman-deered by this big white fuzzee person wift the long white earz, an then he sed we had to bring him to this nifty space station over near Pluto, where he had to pick up a “consignment” of stuffs.
Fer a space station, it looked pretty old fashioned, but the Root Beer was AMAYZIN! They eevn had Birch Beer, an accordin to Mom, that is hard to find eevn on Earth. There was all kindsa peeples there, sailors from the Federation, an Klingons, an the big furry guy’s “business partner,” Cyrano Jonz.
Wull the furry guy an Mistr Jonz sat in a corner fer a while, drinkin the Root Beer an talkin in low voices. Finally, Jonz slaps him on the back telling him what a hard bargain he makes an hands him a big wooden box.
Natchrullee, I was suspishus. After all, who brings a wooden box to a fansee space station?
I whispers to our mechanic, Kaylee, on whose sholder I was sittin, “I not too happy about this.”
An she says, “If he gots work fer us, I don’t care what it is. Yer littul Nemo vendetta is getting expensive, an I’m gonna need a new twirly thing for the enjin soon, so we’re goin to take his money. Got it?”
An because Kaylee not only keep the enjin runnin, but also provides belly rubs, I agree.