Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Star Traveler Update - Drew Chumlee

The new superintendent does not play chess. In fact, he doesn’t do much of anything other than eat, drink, sleep and read comic books. I think I have the most boring man alive on my ship.

“3su, can we talk?” Moby asked over the com system. “In the galley if possible,” he added. Moby had been complaining steadily about the Super and his massive appetite.

Drew Chumlee is a little man, perhaps five foot six or so, but he eats like a man that has been marooned for years on a desert planet. I think he is trying to stock up for the time at the station when everything will be rationed. I swear the man has a hollow leg he’s trying to fill. Moby has increased the amount he prepares by three and the guy is still scarfing it down. I should have charged him extra for supplies.

I passed Drew’s quarters on my way to the galley. He was lying on his bunk with a bowl of Cheesy Crunch he was sprinkling over ice cream (pretty darn disgusting) as he read yet another comic book. Sam helped him load when he came aboard. He must have brought a trunk full of those comics.

“I’m here, Moby,” I said as I dropped into a chair at the table.

“He is eating us out of ship and home,” Moby started to rant. “At this rate we will be out of stores by the time we hit Galnon Station #41 and you know they will not issue us any for the return trip from their supplies,” he declared.

“Come on, Moby, it can’t be that bad,” I soothed. “I know you. You can make a dishrag taste good. I won’t starve. Besides, I can stand to lose a little weight.”

Moby grumbled under his breath a bit. I heard the prep unit click on and one of my favorite chocolate cupcakes appeared. “I do have a few things in reserve,” he admitted.

“There, see? Not so bad after all, right?” I took a bite of the cupcake. “Superior as usual,” I complimented. I wonder if Daniel knows how much time I take placating his programs. Really, I love them all. I would have been bored out of my mind on this trip if it weren’t for the A.I.s he created for me.

“Glad you’re enjoying it. Luckily, he doesn’t care for chocolate,” Moby said.

“Then we are saved. I could live on these.”

Moby obligingly produced another cupcake.

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