57: The Race

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The scene was solemn. The Greg-mansion hummed in the midst of the moon-mushroom planet he owned. The lights were dimmed and the ambiance groggy. A very wobbly and muffled version of the Sound of Silence played through the sound system, as Greg floated in the pool, face down and lifeless. His one open eye peered down at the blur of neon green and dancing light. Izzy stood with her face frozen in confused disbelief.

"Greg, I know you're not dead, but I'm guessing by the 4th floor rails being bent like they are that you probably hit the bottom on the landing, and just decided not to move." she waited for a response as some bubbles percolated like a very sad coffee maker. The series of Greg-bubbles trailed behind the floating sprawled body, propelling it ever so slowly like the world's most lame jet ski. She grabbed his arm and drug him to the side of the pool. Izzy looked beside the pool at the carnage of fallen Absinth barrels floating around the light green-colored pool water.

"Greg...how many barrels of this have you had?" she asked with concern.

"Iold know, cand you count the barellssisIzzy?" he scoffed sluggishly as he slurred his words.

"There are 15 barrels, in and around this pool. You've consumed 30 gallons of Absinth since I left for my walk?" she asked.

"Bongo! Laydees nd gentlements shegan count!. .goldsticker for Izzybell." he said sliding back into the pool. She pulled him back up again as he chuckled and snorted out pool water.

"I've been gone 2 hours. Good grief, I didn't even know our species could get this drunk. I wasn't aware it was even possible."

"Itz called commitmens, Izzy. Deturmundation and hard worg to accheves the impossbuble...makes it posrible." he said as the hand he was leaning on slid and he landed face-first into the floor, just...lying there.

"Greg, you're a mess. This is ridiculous...is this cocaine?" she asked, inspecting the wet powder around the glass table he had had quit literally, drug poolside.

"Mosdly, I jazzed it up with some Thorium and...I forgot what else." he said pondering and rolling to his back.

"Well whatever you were snorting is eating a hole in the marble, so that's probably a good sign."

"I cand die, Izzy. What umagonna do...enjoy myselpto death?" he chuckled.

"Hard to argue with that point, but this isn't mentally healthy either. I know we've had a lot of unforeseeable setbacks in this universe domination thing but...you're just literally drowning your problems. This swimming pool is probably 20 proof by volume right now.

"Comon in, the water is nice and sterile." he joked.

"What if someone attacked us right now? What would you do if the alarms went off and we needed to defend the ship, or moon or whatever this thing is?"

"Well, firstoffly, we got dronescies all over the ship. Only Enemy they cant handle, is our rescendly made love-child mistank of a hell-spawn. So if she hacx the frainframe compuuer, we're basicagiclally earhole screwed anyway. So enjoy the mapocalipse with me. I got pink cocaine and I'm allouughta absminth but thers beer in the minifrige.

"If this is about Rayth, I get it, but you can't fall apart like this. I need you functional. Right now you're as trashed as that dingus captain of the Tast-E-turd." Izzy said, telepathically starting the coffee maker.

Lawg stood in the engine room of his Valiant Tast-E-Turd, holding a pot of coffee as Duffy stood, arms crossed blocking him.

"No Lawg, you're not putting coffee in the reactor to make it run faster." she scolded.

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