Screw the Universe by Stephen Schwegler, Eirik Gumeny

least two sexual harassment claims later, Captain Tyler was declared King of Naked Twister. His nude celebratory dance was interrupted by the giant, bleary-eyed face of Space Marshal Phil Orr on the bridge’s View-Matic 7000 monitor.
     
    “Am I looking at your wiener, Tyler?” he asked.
     
    “I can’t say with certitude.”
     
    “Why am I looking at your wiener, Tyler?”
     
    “Because you and your wife need to have a long, awkward talk?”
     
    “Okay, let’s try someone else,” said the space marshal. “First Lieutenant Duknerts, why am I looking at Tyler’s wiener?”
     
    “There was a Twister tournament, sir, that quickly took a turn for the pantsless,” replied the first lieutenant. “You caught him in the middle of his victory conga.”
     
    “Victory congas haven’t been part of Federation policy in almost three years. We rewrote the clause that made them mandatory.”
     
    “I’m a traditionalist, sir,” said Captain Tyler.
     
    “I can see that,” replied Space Marshal Orr, raising an eyebrow. “It probably wouldn’t hurt to manscape a little, Tyler. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out you’ve got creatures living in there.”
     
    “I wouldn’t either.”
     
    “Right, well,” said the space marshal, noticeably flinching, “I’m actually calling to let you know that we’ve received a report of a working time machine in your vicinity and we need you to check it out. We wanted someone better to do it, but, unfortunately, you’re the closest so you’ll have to do.”
     
    “I get that a lot.”
     
    “I’m sure you do. Anyway, get down there and check it out. Preferably with pants.”
     
    “I can’t promise anything.”
     
    Space Marshal Orr blinked from the viewscreen. Captain Tyler turned and pointed at First Lieutenant Duknerts. And not with his finger.
     
    “Get Ladlebuckets up here, ASAP! We need to get down to that planet!”
     
    “Why would he need to come up here to –”
     
    “Don’t you backtalk me,” replied the captain, wagging his member at the first lieutenant.
     
    “Oh, God, okay....”
     

     
    An enthusiastic Teleportation Engineer Meriwether Ladlebuckets entered the bridge, excited to finally be called on by the captain. He regretted it almost immediately.
     
    “Jesus, man!” exclaimed Ladlebuckets, bursting onto the bridge and shielding his eyes. “Captain, why are you naked?”
     
    “Nude Twister tournament.”
     
    “It was supposed to be a normal game of Twister,” added First Lieutenant Duknerts.
     
    “But that was no fun,” replied Private Yvette Redshirt, also – and still – naked.
     
    “I’m telling you, she’s a keeper, ‘Nerts!” said the captain, giving the first lieutenant a wink.
     
    “That is the intention, sir.”
     
    “Why am I here again?” asked Teleportation Engineer Ladlebuckets.
     
    “I need you to teleport us to that planet down there,” replied Captain Tyler, pointing out the bridge’s window.
     
    “Okay, sure,” said the engineer, “but I can only do that from the teleportation bay.”
     
    “Then why are you up here?”
     
    “Because you –”
     
    “Shh...” Private Redshirt laid a soothing hand on the engineer’s shoulder, whispering, “It’s not worth it.”
     
    “Baby!” said First Lieutenant Duknerts.
     
    “What?” replied the private. “You haven’t been this terrified and innocent in months!”
     
    “Can... can I go now?” asked Teleportation Engineer Ladlebuckets, shaking noticeably.
     
    “You can go anywhere you want.”
     
    “Yvette!”
     
    “All right, okay.” She smacked Ladlebuckets’s ass as she slinked back to her station.
     
    “Prep whatever it is you have to prep, Ladlebuckets,” First Lieutenant Duknerts called after him. “And then stay the hell off the bridge.”
     
    “Computer!” barked Captain Tyler.
     
    “Whaaaaaaaat?” she replied, clearly annoyed.
     
    “This a bad time?”
     
    “I was taking a nap.”
     
    “What?”