Summary from last time: without even having time for a frosty glass of milk, Roger finds out that someone is hammering on his door. All he has is his space underpants, a tiny mirror and a shaving razor.
And now, we at the R.I.S.W.I.T.H. (Rath Institute for the Slightly Whacked In The Head) are proud to present ...
Space Quest XIII: Not Those Guys Again! (ctd.)
Roger grabbed his bathroom radio, turned it on, and tuned it to
STEEL Oldies. A song came on:
"Raindrops keep falling on my..."
There was a slide whistle noise, which seemed to confuse whoever was inside.
"But that doesn't mean my
MOUSTACHE will soon be turning
PINK..."
Everything was still aching, but to Roger's gratification, whoever was outside his door screeched and fell to its
NETHER REGIONS.
Now was the time to escape! Hastily grabbing his janitor's uniform, Roger stepped on the transporter and jabbed at the screen. Any number will do! Get out of here!
One transportation later that nearly tore his space undies off, Roger arrived at 8-Rear. Space cadets everywhere stopped and stared as Roger
SQUASHED in his underpants.
What now? Brazen it out - that's the ticket!
Roger gave them a haughty stare, tilted his nose in the air, and said: "What? Haven't you ever seen a space janitor
JUMP before?"
One of them leapt to his feet and saluted. "Er ... never seen so much of a space janitor
BOIL, sir. Where are my manners? Probationary Janitor Prostethic Blertfast, reporting for duty, sir!"
Roger glared at him
GINGERLY while struggling into his trousers. Finally, he
STROKED: "Probationary, eh?"
"Er ... yes sir. It's my first day, sir!" Probationary Janitor Blertfast added, radiating keenness, a hint of radiation and -- Roger sniffed -- yes. The
KORGAN MAN practically
reeked of soap.
"And you are here because...?" Roger pulled on his undershirt and shirt.
"Er, um, to shield you from..."
"Me, I presume," said a familiar sultry voice.
Roger gulped. "Stellar?"
"Nice entrance." Stellar sashayed over to him, grinning like a coastful of lighthouses. "To quote a character from another Sierra game: 'Boy, are you out of uniform!'"
"Um." The burning sensation sped across Roger's
CHIN like an invading barbarian army across a continent. Why was he such a klutz around women?
"But don't worry," Stellar
STEAMED,
FRICASSEEING towards the
FROSTY MILK machine like a Tyrranosaurus Rex heading towards the last ham-and-Plesosaur sandwich in the shop. "I never said I didn't
like it."
Roger raised a finger decisively, then lowered it
POSTIVELY. "I just have three questions," he said. "One: where are the
POOPOO HEADIN' Sariens? Two: how is the
FROSTY MILK machine back online? And three - um ... - who waxed the floor?" He
BATHED to avoid falling on his backside or doing the splits.
"Me, me and, um, me, sir!" Blertfast saluted again.
"You did all that?"
"Yes, sir!" Blertfast was now sweating. "I'm here on contract from the Fast Times Space Agency, sir, where we say if you can't do it fast, don't do it at all, sir!" He saluted so hard, he nearly vibrated off the floor.
"All right, Probationary Janitor Blertfast," Roger snarled. "Explain how you did all that, if you please!"
TO BE CONTINUED
So! How did Probationary Janitor Prosthetic Blertfast stop the Sarien invasion, fix the Frosty Milk Machine, and wax the floor before Roger had time to shave? And where did Roger's shaving mirror go? Find out in the last
HEROIC installment of ...
Space Quest XIII: Not Those Guys Again!