“…eeeeh.” Captain Groink grunted, somewhat like a defective joy buzzer, considerably more upset at the loss of his exotic mud collection than the lives of his former crew.
“MATILDAAAA!” Splatch screamed, pointing in vain at the monitor like some spastic ferret playing a game of charades.
“Oh calm down Splatch, we’ll get you another 1 Bowl of snot2 Pet ferret3 Dish rag4 Vacuum cleaner vacuum cleaner.” Captain Groink sighed, realizing that the simian barbarians he’d been stranded with likely didn’t even have common, let alone exotic, mud.
“… she was… she was so much more…” Splatch did his species version of collapsing in tears, which basically, involved him turning into a lumpy puddle while excreting the salt from his body in chunky, spastic bursts.
“Man, does that make anybody else hot?” Captain Groink grunted rhetorically “…so where you folks headed?”
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