Agent Arizona: Season 15

Objects in Space

While Lopez aimlessly, floated through space, passing various planets and stars, he thought he might as well keep himself entertained. 

<Space...the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Lopez. It's continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds...to seek out new life and new civilizations...to boldly go where no robot has gone before.> 

Suddenly a beam of light engulfs Lopez and he gets abducted into a ship. His head hits the floor. 

<What the? What's going on? Who's there?> A figure decloaks in front of him. If Lopez had a physical mouth, he would've swallowed in fear at who stood over him. 

<Help.> 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Back at the moon where their reporters met the actual Reds and Blues, Grif is standing out in the open talking to himself. 

"Listen, Simmons. Shh. I got.. some things to say. To you. Some things that I gotta get off my chest buddy! Buddy? Nah. Not buddy. Stupid. Friend? Friend. No, friend! Definitely friend. Anyway! I've had a bit of time to think about some things. Lots of time actually. Oodles of time! Oodles of buckets of times of time. Tiempo de Mucho. Mucho de Tiempo! Now, listen, Simmons. Sim-mons. Sim- Cinnamon. Similaria-Gaah! Focus, Grif! Now, things ended really bad out there, buddy, no, friend! And I've been thinking. Thinking, thinking, thinking. I need to tell you that I am super duper- uh, I am so incredibly..." 

Grif looks down at a volleyball that had Simmons' helmet poorly drawn on it. 

"Hungry? You're hungry, aren't you?" Grif says imitating Simmons. 

"No, Simmons, I'm not hungry!" Grif retorts normally. "That's not what I'm trying to say. What I'm trying to say, is that I'm-" 

"Thirsty? Glug glug." 

"No! What I am trying to say is that I am incredibly-" 

"Lazy? Good-for-nothin'? Waste of fatty tissue and brain cells?" Grit says in a southern accent. He was impersonating Sarge with volleyball drawn of him on it stood next to him. 

"Not now, Sarge! I'm trying to talk to Simmons. It's important." 

"Not as important as your job, Grif! Y'know you're supposed to be on guard duty, ahurk-ahurk-ahurr." 

"Sarge, we've covered this! Technically, I am on break." 

"It's not every week that commands sees fit to send us the latest'n'greatest in invisible hover-tank technology, Grif! Instead'a guardin' it, you're over there playin' grab-ass with Private Dick Simmons!" 

"I'm sure the tank is fine. It's not like it's gonna disappear." 

"Nothin' here. Just like the inside-a that thick skull'a yours! Knock-knock, nobody's home." 

"Why are you blaming me? I left Donut and Lopez in charge!" Grif says gesturing to two other volleyballs with Donut and Lopez crudely drawn on them. 

<I didn't see anything, it's Grif's fault.> Grif says surprisingly in Spanish. 

"I was in my bunk, giving myself a facial! Hee-hee-hee-hee! Entendre!" Grief laughs giddily like Donut. 

"I can't tell you how disappointed I am in you Grif!" Volleyball Sarge says. "But I'll try. I just finished swappin' out the headlight fluid n' convertin' the breaks to diesel! It was a finely tuned callback-killin' machine, and you lost it!" 

"I'm telling you, it wasn't my fault! Stop blaming me! I was busy! Busy, busy, busy! Busy as a bee, busy busy bee body! Body bee busy!" Grif protests quickly.