“All Alone In the Night, Well Kydd is Here as are Others” by Danae Tullaris
from February 26, 2007

Sitting at helm, tapping on her console. Is she working…? Mebbe.

I am stuck on the bridge with Kydd in command. We are all going to die. We are so dead. And what am I doing right now? I am mapping this strange place with the information pouring in from sensors. Still, Kydd is prattling on about something or another. I am trying, Goddess I am trying, to tune him out. My ears keep twitching. At least for him it gives the appearance that I am actually listening to him.

Right now, I just want to be off-duty and with John. He is sleeping right now. Watching him sleep puts a smile on my face. Of course, it also makes me just want to snuggle him. Little does he know that while he has been sleeping, I have been sneaking in and taking pictures. If he finds out, I am in for it! His gamma shift duty should be ending soon, thankfully. It will be nice to be back on the same schedule. But, I better get all my Kydd picking out of the way or I will be in trouble again.

It is rather fun to torment Kydd. I should tell him that he tastes like chicken. That would get his sheep. Sheep? Yeah, that sounds about right. Hmm, or maybe I should tell him he tastes like crap. Then again, I haven’t eaten crap so I wouldn’t know. Yes, definitely chicken without the feathers. That would just be weird if he had feathers. But, that does give me an idea. I wonder if I could put feathers on him? Probably. I would just have to sneak out the various powders and supplies, conjure up the formula, say the strange words of my ancestors (whomever they may be), and presto…instant chicken.

With my luck, I’d probably turn him into an ost-something-or-another. Too bad he has already been a flag. That was a neat trick. Flap, flap, flap in the breeze. Q is a genious for that one. Now, he can flap his wings. Maybe the drunk monkey would like a snack. Someone please give him back his spork.