The original, 26-page script version of


Copyright © 1980 by Roger M. Wilcox. All rights reserved.
(writing on this combination script-and-narrative began 6-September-1980)

The original draft was written on a mechanical typewriter, which lacked square bracket [] characters, with no right margin. It was inspired by the Mad Magazine parody of the original Battlestar Galactica series, titled "Cattle Car Galaxica." (My dad said it would have been better if they'd named it "Galaxative." I tend to agree.) And when I say "inspired by," I mean "blatantly ripped off from" in certain places. All spellings, punctuation, capitalizations, weird switching between script and prose, etc. are as in the original.

You have been warned.

Preface: This is my first attempt at writing a play/short story. I'll be mixing play-style writing with novel-type action sequences, sometimes separating them with, "---".


A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, an incredible adventure took pl— oops! Wrong story ... (ahem) ...

Not so long ago, in a galaxy not so far away, an incredible adventure took place ...

— Battlestar CRAP-tica —
(The ultimate GALACTICA put down)

The awakening synthesizer sounded loudly through lieutennant Starbuff's private sleep bay. Starbuff slowly rose to a vertical position, stretching and yawning as he did. He slowly approached an area directly before a sliding door, pointed his finger at a sensor panel next to it, and let out a soft yet shrill tone. Within milliseconds, the door slid open revealing Starbuff's bathroom.

Again, he pointed his finger at a sensor pad, and this time, a comb and a toothbrush appeared and did their job. After this, a small dispenser appeared and poured a quantity of mouthwash into Starbuff's mouth. He gargled and sloshed it about in his mouth, and promptly spit it out.

Suddenly, a small sink dashed forth to retrieve the superfluous liquid. It caught its target just in time, then quickly zipped back to its home in the wall.

Starbuff moved to an area just below a large hole in the ceiling. He once again pointed his finger at a wall panel, and let out a soft, high tone, looking up afterward. A giantic pile driver fell down from several meters up inside the hole, and crashed down on Starbuff. When it retracted, Starbuff was fully clothed (he'd been sleeping in his pj's).

At last, Starbuff could leave for his wiper craft — the alarm was the signal for him to start his daily routine of patroling for pylon raiders. He opened his front door the same way he had done everything else I've described, stormed down the hallway directly outside, and placed his body over a large red circle inscribed on the floor. For the last time this morning, he pointed his finger at a sensor panel nect to him, and just before uttering the tone that would activate it said, "Well, here I go again!"

With that, he uttered his tone, and the ground below him gave way. He fell for at least twenty meters before the shaft below him even banked slightly, and then thirty more before coming out and landing in the seat of his wiper.

As the transparent hatch closed above him, the soft, feminine voice of central control announced, "Wiper one — launch when ready." Starbuff abruptly poised his finger above the "turbo" button on his joystick, and pressed it firmly. The wiper launched with instanty and speed.

STARBUFF: Yeeeow! Every time I launch, my head snaps back against the seat, and I get whiplash! I'm gonna ask the lab to either install a slower takeoff, rubber seats, or a rubber neck for me!!

Starbuff was off in the endless void of surrounding space, searching for the "deadly" (they were as harmful as a 72-year-old mouse) pylons. He looked down at his scanner.

STARBUFF: Ah, what a beautiful universe this is! Look at this on the scanner — red stars, white dwarves, black holes, intergalactic space crap, two hundred pylon raiders, beautiful— TWO HUNDRED PYLON RAIDERS?!? My god! (he turns on his helmet communicator) Calling the CRAP-tica — this is lt. Starbuff calling Battlestar CRAP-tica! Do you read me?
COMMANDER OH-DAMMIT (commander of the CRAP-tica): This is Commander Oh-Dammit here! Come in Starbuff....
STARBUFF: Commander, I'm being attacked by 200 pylons! Send some help, okay?
CAPTAIN APPALLING (Starbuff's friend — interrupting): I'll get 'em for you, Starbuff! I'm comin', buddy! Hang in there!!

Appalling abruptly turned off his voicecom from his bedroom, and got up. He hadn't time to take mouthwash or comb his hair. He ran to his door and pressed the opening button (he had an old apartment). He poised himself above the outside "red circle", and was just about to press its button, when he realized he had forgotten to get dressed. He ran back to his apartment, opened the door, positioned himself below the dressing shaft, and pushed the activating button. The pile driver crashed down upon him, and did its job (he was dressed, not crushed!).

In a blinding flash, even before the front door reclosed, Appalling had zipped out of his sleep bay, down the hall, above his circle, and pressed the accompanying button. He fell down the hole as quickly as he could (as if he had a choice!), and landed in the seat of his wiper.

CENTRAL CONTROL: Wiper 2, launch when —
APPALLING: Yeah, yeah! I know!

He grasped the joystick, and brought his finger down on a button without looking. Unfortunately, he had pressed the button marked, "in" — the button for reverse thrust. "Yaaah!", he announced. "I think I pressed the wrong button!!"

The wiper went on a demolition course right through the CRAP-tica in the wrong direction. To make matters even worse, the "in" button on Appalling's wiper was stuck — he had to keep going that way. He crashed through the wall in back of the launching chamber, and kept right on going toward the other side of the battlestar.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the center of the CRAP-tica, there was a game of "pyramids" going on (don't worry — pyramids is their version of poker). A player laid down his hand (of cards), and announced, "Five pyramids! I think I'm gonna win!"

About then, another person was putting his ear to the wall in the same room (he was eavesdropping on a conversation), and heard a faint rumbling noise, getting louder. His only thought was, "What the brac?"

Suddenly, a confused maniac barged into the room, shouting, "Wiper crossing! Use caution! Wiper ahead!!"

A confused babble broke out amongst the pyramid players, thinking he was just crazy. All-of-a-sudden, Appalling's wiper crashed into the pyramid game room, and as it killed 2½ people on its way by, Appalling shouted, "Comin' through!!"

An alert was given to the controllers of the landing bay — yep, the wiper was headed in that direction. "Oh, my god!!", one of them said to the other. "I think he's gonna crash through the ..."

The wiper smashed through the end protector wall, heading out down the runway, and the controller finished, "... End barrier!!"

As the wiper finished the final few meters of runway, another wiper (exhausted from many centons of patrolling) was scheduled for landing in the same landing bay! He was about to pull in, when suddenly Appalling's wiper came out in his direction. "Yaaah!", the pilot of the landing wiper shouted, as he frantically swerved to the right (far enough to scratch one of his tail fins on the edge of the landing bay!).

At last, Appalling was out in free space, and naturally the first thing he did was to contact Starbuff.

APPALLING: Starbuff ... you out there?
STARBUFF: If I'm not, I'm in big trouble! Any trouble, Appalling?
APPALLING: You might say that, yes! My I-N button is stick in the on position, and I can't pry it loose! You got anything that would help?
STARBUFF: Don't you have a nail file? They'll work!
APPALLING: What do I look like, anyway?!? Only women carry nail files around with them!
STARBUFF: Well, then, you can use mine! I always carry one around with me! I'll send it to you via the on-board mini-teleporter.
APPALLING (with a look of "oh, my god!" on his face): Hmmm ... I've been wondering about you, Starbuff! (The stuff comes in via the teleporter). Aha, the file! Hey! What's this pill here?
STARBUFF: It's a certs! You have terrible morning breath!!
APPALLING: I know, I know! (he pops the certs in his mouth) Say, didn't you say something about a hundred pylon raiders?"
STARBUFF: Two hundred! Look at your scanner.
APPALLING: You're right! there they are ... all 200 of them! And there are only 2 of us!
STARBUFF: That makes the odds 100 to one! That's not fair!
APPALLING: Yeah, poor pylons! They don't have a chance!!!

Appalling quickly pried loose the I-N button, which popped out into his hand (they don't make buttons like they used to!). He hadn't time to worry about this now. He quickly pressed the turbo button, and sent his wiper flying toward the pylon hoarde. Starbuff did the same.

Soon, the pylons were within range of sight, and before long, they were within range of their weapons. Appalling promptly removed his finger from the "turbo" button, and placed it over the red button marked "fire" (the third joystick control). Without even looking, he fired aimlessly in the general direction of the pylons.

The twin shots streaked further into nothingness, and appeared as if they would miss altogether. Just as they were half way between two pylons, they split off (semi-mysteriously) and headed off each for their respective pylon raider. Each raider exploded simoultaneously, leaving no trace of their existence. Afterwhich, Appalling uttered his famous warcry, "Whoooo!"

Before Appalling could say any more, Starbuff announced, "Big deal! Watch this!!". He swirved his wiper until his scanner's crossfire was aimed on four pylons lined up in a row. He quickly pressed the firing button, and watched the bolts streak toward their intended target(s). (By the way, I've always wondered how you're supposed to see those bolts if they're actually lasers and are supposed to travel at the speed of light!!)

The bolts hit, and the pylon raiders were, one at a time, down the line, vaporized into nothingness. "How do you like that?!", Starbuff asked in a rhetorical way.

"Not bad. But this'll blow your mind! Not to mention theirs!"

"Who?", Starbuff inquired. "The pylons?"

"No, the audience! They've been waiting a long time for some half-decent special effects!!"

Appalling quickly fired at a pylon raider chosen at random. The pylon, upon being hit (just a glancing blow, but that's enough to kill any pylon!), split in half. Each half went off in different directions, each hitting another pylon raider, splitting them up, etc..

When the whole schmeel was over, eleven pylons were destroyed, and a large and flaming (I thought flames needed air!) pylon raider fragment was still zipping about. The fragment almost hit another pylon, but was only a near miss. However, either from the heat of the fragment, the suicidal instincts of the pylon race, or cheap spaceship construction, the pylon raider exploded anyway.

Suddenly, as unexpectedly as the near victory for the wipers (in other words, not unexpectedly at all!), a pylon raider zipped up underneith Starbuff, and fired repeatedly.

STARBUFF: Appalling! I've got ten direct hits from underneath!
APPALLING: Check the damage report. What does it say?
STARBUFF: Hmmm ... I think they scratched the paint!
APPALLING: Only 10 direct hits? They did that much damage?!?
STARBUFF: Yeah! Now I'm really mad! A new paint job costs a whole ¼ secton's pay! Now they're in for it!!!

Starbuff added to the battle with his newly acquired rage, and the "battle" continued onward.

OH-DAMMIT: I can't understand what's keeping Captain Appalling and lieutennant Starbuff. They could at least have informed us of what's going on with the pylons.
CAPTAIN ALPO (thinking): I hope they got Appalling! If they didn't, I will!

This is an important plot complication. Captain Alpo (also called Captain Alpo-low, in which case, stress the second syllable of the second word) is the exact CLONE of Captain Appalling, and by nature, all clones hate their original, and vice-versa. However, this clone is that much more of a maniac, and the only reason he's still on the fleet is because he has a sexy body (for a man — I'm not "lah-de-dah"!!!), and the girls aboard the CRAP-tica would kill Commander OhDammit if he got rid of him.

Commander OhDammit finally decided to send out Athinner and KaBoomer (female caucatian and male black dude, in that order) to search for Lt. Starbuff and Captain Appalling. Each launched quite rapidly (accompanied by the usual whiplash, of course).

When they arrived, there were only fifty left, and within a split second, only 48 (if you think I'm not talking about pylon raiders, think again!!). "Hey!", KaBoomer inquired. "What's happenin', mon?"

STARBUFF: We've destroyed over 3/4 of the pylons! Tell ya what.... You can grab some of the glory, too.... I'll take that twelve.
KA-BOOMER: And I'll take that 12.
ATHINNER: And I'll take that 12.
APPALLING: Hey! I wanted that twelve!!
ATHINNER: Appalling ... uh ... if you let me kill that twelve, I'll ... uh ... reconsider your offer of coming over to your sleep bay tonight ... and ...
APPALLING: Uh ... tell ya what! You can have all twenty-four remaining pylons! Now whadayasay?
ATHINNER: A definite "maybe"!!

Starbuff made the first move. With one quick blast, he'd destroyed all twelve of his pylons (make up your own ideas on how he did it!). Next was KaBoomer. He was an inexperienced at this sort of stuff, and had to fire two shots to kill them all.

Then came Athinner. Sexy, stupid Athinner. To kill only 24 of them, she had to fire at least 25 shots! God, that's lame!

Athinner and KaBoomer then had to return to the CRAP-tica; Partly because they had nearly exhausted their fuel supply (they were flying older makes of wipers), partly because they had run out of firing power (actually only lame Athinner did), but mostly because they had to send Starbuff and Appalling on their "adventure of the week"!

STARBUFF: What time is it, Appalling?
APPALLING: It's two abondanzas past a pastaroni. We're very late.
STARBUFF: Well, I just want to go a little further.
APPALLING: Oh? How far?
STARBUFF: Far enough to find another planet to crash-land on.
APPALLING: We're crash-landing again?
STARBUFF: Not we, YOU!! It's your turn this secton!
APPALLING: Look — there's a good planet down there! Well, here I go!!

Captain Appalling abruptly depressed the "turbo" button, and sent his wiper on a direct course for the planet below himself. Starbuff did the same, but instead glided down.

Appalling streaked down through the atmosphere (isn't it strange how all planets they crash-land on have a breatheable atmosphere!). Within seconds, Captain Appalling (who, by this time, was traveling at maximum speed) smashed down on the planet's surface, obliterating his wiper and making a new crater.

Starbuff came in for a landing near the crash site, and promptly climbed out, walking in the general direction of Appalling's crash.

STARBUFF: Appalling?!? Appalling!?! You here? This is no time to play games! Appal— (he sees the wreckage) ... ooh. When I said "crash-land", I didn't mean crash-land!! Hey, on a 1 to 10 scale, I'd rate this landing as a nine!
APPALLING (amazingly crawling out of the wreckage): Hey! I'm still alive!! NOW what would you rate the landing at? A ten??
STARBUFF: Hmmm ... well, now that I see you've survived, I'd rate the crash landing as a three!!!
APPALLING: Oh, shut up! Say, I wonder if this planet is inhabited!
STARBUFF: They usually are. They either have a pylon munitions depot, a pylon base, a beautiful female alien, a pylon—
APPALLING: Starbuff, look! Over there!
STARBUFF: What is it? A pylon raider? A troup of pylons on patrol?
APPALLING: No — a beautiful female alien!!

Appalling quickly drew his hand gun, reset a few controls, and fired directly at the alien, killing her on the spot (all of Starbuff's ideas must have been one and the same!).

APPALLING: That way, they won't show any resistance! (he strips the alien bare) Oh, brac! BRAC!!
STARBUFF: What is it?
APPALLING: these aliens have no sexual organs! They're no fun at all!!
STARBUFF: Appalling, look over there! Pylons!!
APPALLING (resetting his hand gun): Alright!! (he kills the pylon before it has a change to fire back.) Now, these are fun!!
STARBUFF: What do you mean by that, and what are you doing with that pylon?
APPALLING: Simulating reproduction! These pylons have sexual organs!!
STARBUFF (with a look of "oh, my god!" on his face): Oh, my god! C'mon! If there are pylons on this planet, we've gotta destroy them!!

Appalling took a quick glance around, and slowly removed himself from the dead pylon's body. The two quickly headed off in the direction the pylon came from. After a few centons of walking, they came upon the site of something that was astounding....

APPALLING: Starbuff! Do you see what I see?
STARBUFF: Only if you're seeing a pylon ground base! How are we gonna destroy THAT???!?

Before any of them could make any further decisions, a pylon spied them on the rafters of the base, and opened fire. Amazingly, none of the shots hit Appalling or Starbuff (pylons have terrible aim — but if they hit, it could kill — they use the same guns the CRAP-ticans use!). Starbuff quickly drew his gun as Appalling was searching for his, and "killed" the pylon instantly. Appalling finally found his gun — it was in his holster! "Too late!", Starbuff told capt. Appalling.

Suddenly, another pylon appeared, and this time, hit capt. Appalling on his left shoulder. "Yaaah!", he cried. "I didn't know they could actually hit me with a gun blast!!".

He quickly returned fire, and the pylon fell to the ground at their feet.

APPALLING: how'd you manange to actually hit me???!?
PYLON: I-wasn't-aiming-for-you. I-was-aiming-for-that-grizzly-bear-behind-you!!
APPALLING: Grizzly bear? WHAT grizzly — (he glances behind himself) BEAR!

The two began running rapidly away, leaving the pylon to "die". Appalling began running backwards (in the same direction as Starbuf — he'd turned around), and aimed at the grizzly, firing as he did. The shot had practically no effect.

STARBUFF: What happened? Why didn't it die?
APPALLING: I had this gun on the wrong setting! Let's see (he begins resetting the controls) ... humans ... pylons ... 20-foot giants ... flying maids ... aha! Grizzly bears!!

As the grizzly was still in hot pursuit, Appalling again fired upon it. This time, the shot took its toll — the grizzly fell to the ground, dead. Well done, Appalling! He promptly replaced his gun where he originally found it (his holster).

STARBUFF: Wait a minute! I've got a plan on how we can destroy the pylon base!
APPALLING: Yeah? What is it?
STARBUFF: Well, we get together a big squadron of X-wing and Y-wing fighters, fly down through the canyon, and at the last micron fire a proton bomb down the exhaust port, then get away quickly and watch the Death Star explode!
APPALLING: That's Star Wars!
STARBUFF: Hmmm ... you're right! Okay, then, we get together a big squadron of Wiper fighters, fly down on the surface, and at the last micron fire a missle onto the atomic reactor, and watch the Pylon Base explode!!!
APPALLING: Now you're thinking!!
STARBUFF: Wait a centon! We don't even have to do that much! We've got enough power in our wipers! We'll get 'em with the new weapon developed by Dr. X — the zucchini missile!! It's so potent, only one is allowed on a wiper.
APPALLING: Hey! Hold on there! You're forgetting that my wiper was obliterated in my crash landing!!
STARBUFF: I know that. But would I leave a buddy behind (who also happens to be of higher rank!)? Let's go!

Soon, the two of them were off in Starbuff's wiper, and guess where Capt. Appalling was? Right! He was in the front hole on the wiper's nose!!! As they were launching, Appalling had said, "So these are no-frills wiper flights, eh?!?"

Starbuff anxiously kept his finger down on the "TURBO" button, as he swirved the wiper in the direction of the pylon base's nuclear reactor. "Now," he announced, "Here goes the zucchini missle lever!"

Appalling took a quick glance over his shoulder (into the wiper's nose), and saw a pair of weapons bay doors open, followed by the appearence of a large, green missle of the same diameter as the nose shaft. Appalling suddenly realized where the missle launcher was — in the nose cone — where he was! He wasted no time in attempting to remove himself from the front, and climb up on the top of the wiper's nose, just in time to avoid the launch of the wiper's one zucchini missle. As the missile streaked down toward the nuclear reactor, Starbuff swooped the wiper upward, saying, "We're headin' for space buddy! We don't want to be within range of that a-bomb blast!!"

"Space?" thought Appalling. "Oh-oh! There's no air in space, and I'm in an open air nose cone! I'd better get back in, and pull down the transparent, air-tight shield!". This he did.

In practically no time, Starbuff had brought the wiper into the endless void known as space. As he caused the wiper to spin 180° and lurch backward, he and Appalling witnessed the entire pylon's destruction in a single atomic blast. Bye, bye bylons!!!

Meanwhile, aboard the CRAP-tica, they were facing a very large (but not very harmful) emergency.

KA-BOOMER: Look, sir!
OH-DAMMIT: What is it?
KA-BOOMER: On the scanner ... a pylon base tar!
KA-BOOMER: A base tar can contain as many as two hundred pylon raiders, and five hundred pylons!
OH-DAMMIT: Okay, we might as well send out a destruction team.
KA-BOOMER: Yeah, but how are we going to destroy them??
OH-DAMMIT: Hmmm ... aha! We get together a big squadron of X-wing and Y-wing fighters, fly down through the canyon, and at the last micron fire a proton bomb down the exhaust port, then get away quickly and watch the Death Star explode!
KA-BOOMER: That's Star Wars!
OH-DAMMIT: You're right ... okay, we get together a big squadron of Wiper fighters, fly down on the surface, and at the last micron fire a missle onto the atomic reactor, and watch the Base Tar explode!!!
KA-BOOMER: Now you're thinking!!! ... Hold it! We don't have to do even that much! Look — on the scanner! It's Starbuff's wiper!!
OH-DAMMIT (using the spacecom): This is the CRAP-tica calling lieutennant Starbuff! Come in, Starbuff!
STARBUFF: Yo! I'm comin' right back atcha! What's up?
OH-DAMMIT: Where's Captain Appalling?
STARBUFF: He's in the nose of my wiper. Say, I've been meaning to ask you about something.
OH-DAMMIT: Okay, but hurry up!
STARBUFF: Why is it that Appalling's title (Captain) is always capitalized, when you never capitalize my title of lieutennant (or just lt.)?
OH-DAMMIT: Don't ask me, ask the writer of this dumb story!
STARBUFF: Okay, writer, why—
WRITER: Shaddap, or I'll make the pylons capitalized!
STARBUFF: Ulp! Uh, sure, sure! Shadding up, massah!!
OH-DAMMIT: Starbuff, we're faced with a worse problem than bad grammar.
STARBUFF: Impossible! Isn't it?
OH-DAMMIT: No, we've just sited a pylon base tar in the vicinity of the CRAP-tica. It could contain as many as 200 pylon raiders!
APPALLING (using his pocket spacecom): So? Me and Starbuff—
OH-DAMMIT: Starbuff and I!
APPALLING: Oh? You fought them too??
OH-DAMMIT: No, I'm just correcting your grammar. Like Lieutennant (notice the capitalization!) Starbuff said, nothing is worse than bad grammar!!! Anyway, have you used up your zucchini missle???
STARBUFF: Yeah, we used it up on a pylon ground base.
APPALLING: And almost on me, too!!!
OH-DAMMIT: Hmmm ... okay, then, I'll send a new wiper # 2 out for Captain Appalling! Catch!!

Without warning, Commander OhDammit pressed a button sending a wiper out in the general direction of Appalling and Starbuff. Fortunately, he had left the cockpit open, so that when Appalling made a "flying" leap for the wiper (in space?), he'd have a better chance of catching it and getting in.

The wiper 2 roared onward toward Starbuff's wiper # 1. Inside the nose cone, Capt. Appalling was inhailing and exhailing as if he'd just sprinted six frisbees — he was getting ready to go into space. Suddenly, the wiper # 2 zoomed up near Starbuff's wiper, as Starbuff made a frontal pass at it (I have a dirty mind, don't I?!?).

At the last imaginable micron, Appalling threw open his see-thru airtight cover, and lept out for the wiper, shouting his famous battle cry of, "" (there is no sound in space!). He stretched out his forearms in extensive reach, and caught the wiper by its port laser turret. Breaking the momentum of his leap, he threw his body "upward", catching the cockpit with his legs. As his lungs consumed the last cragmont of dioxide, he painfully hurled himself into the cockpit, and yanked down the cover.

Dioxide quickly filled the cabin (and I don't mean log-cabin!), and Appalling could breathe again (brac!).

APPALLING: Whew! I'm glad that's over! Say, didn't Commander OhDammit say something about a pylon base tar?
STARBUFF: I think so. I know so! Look — to your left!
APPALLING: Oh, goody! Now I get to try out my zucchini missle!!
STARBUFF: Hey, I've gotta get back to the CRAP-tica.
STARBUFF: Well, for one thing, I'm low on fuel, for another, I've used up my zucchini missile, but mostly, if you remember, the pylons scratched my paint!
APPALLING: Okay, I'll get the base tar, you get the paint job and come back ... er — how long will it take?
STARBUFF: Well, replacing the missle and refueling would probably take only one or two centons, but a new paint job'll probably take a good matter of sectons! So long!

Starbuff turned and dissappeared in the direction of the CRAP-tica. The death of the base tar was now in Captain Appalling's hands. Before Appalling could make his death-dealing move, however, the launching bay doors of the base tar opened wide, and began pouring out pylon raiders.

He didn't want to waste time playing war games, so he simply redirected his course, and fired one simple shot down the launching bay. This move destroyed all 200 pylon raiders at once. He swirved his wiper again, and headed for the nuclear reactor at the bottom center of the base tar. Swiftly, he pulled down the lever that would take control of the laser turrets, and give it to the zucchini missile launcher via the same button. As he passed as closely to the reactor as he deemed possible, he pushed the "fire" button, instantly followed by the "in" button so he could see the a-bomb blast while still staying clear.

The missle streaked toward its intended target, spewing out chemical gas and exhaust. Although Appalling was to far away to see the actual impact, he knew it had happened because the base tar evaporated in a split micron with a flash of blue light.

WRITER: That does it! I can't take this crap any more! I'm giving these wiper jockies a real challenge!!

However, just before the base tar went up in light, Appalling could have sworn he'd seen something big streak out of the base tar's rear exit. Although Appalling thought he should check it out, he was out a zucchini missle, and decided to return to the CRAP-tica, which by then was a fifteen-centon flight.

But it was not to be so simple. Unbenounced to Commander OhDammit, Captain AlpoLow had sneaked away from his quarters, and stolen a wiper. Because he knew he would have to cross the radio signals to the CRAP-tica, he took along with him a jamming device, set to the frequency of the wipers and the CRAP-tica, which was invented by Dr. X.


The plot beyond this point becomes very serious and unfunny in detail. Proceed at your own risk!!!

OH-DAMMIT: This is commander OhDammit calling Capt. Appalling! Come in Capt. Appalling! Over.
ALPO-LOW (using Appalling's voice over the jammer (which should be easy — he's his clone!)): Yo! What's up?
OH-DAMMIT: I've just received word that Captain Alpo has stolen a wiper and is probably out for blood — yours!
ALPO: You mean Capt. Alpo — that hellova fantastic personality with a great body to boot?
OH-DAMMIT: But ... Appalling ... he hates you, and you hate him!
ALPO: So? What's that got to do with anything?
ALPO: Tell ya what ... I'll try to avoid him as much as possible, okay? Okay! That was Captain Appalling, over and out!
OH-DAMMIT: Hmmm ... that's strange! Appalling never acts this way when he's threatened by his clone! And look — on the scanner: Appalling doesn't even seem to realize that Alpo is out there — he's just following his normal course!
KA-BOOMER (interrupting Commander OhDammit's intimate conversation with himself): Sir, we have just received word that a jamming device was stolen from Dr. X's lab!
OH-DAMMIT: Did you get any fengor prints?
KA-BOOMER: Only those of ... Captain Alpo!
OH-DAMMIT: Oh, dammit! That means that was Captain Alpo I was talking with! We've got to get a wiper — any wiper — out there!
KA-BOOMER: Well, if we don't need to give it a new paint job, we can send Starbuff, refueled and remissiled, out there!
OH-DAMMIT: You're such a poet. And I hate poets! Send him out there, anyway!!!

An alert was immediately sent out to Starbuff, who quickly lept in his wiper (from half way across the battlestar?), and launched for the 10-centon rescue flight. Meanwhile, Alpo was drawing ever nearer to Appalling. Finally, Appalling located a faraway mass rapidly approaching his wiper — which did not read on his scanner. His decision to investigate was the only wrong move he'd made since the invention of the pylons — would you believe it, his first wrong move! Well ... how about his second wrong move? Er ... how about his first wrong move since getting up That morning???

Anyway, Appalling had finally determined that the strange mass flying at him was a wiper.

APPALLING: Yo-hoo! That you, Starbuff?
ALPO (with a evil accent): No, this isn't Starbuff! Heh, heh, heh!!
APPALLING (with a look of "oh, my god!" on his face): Oh, my god!
ALPO: Yes — that's who you'll be nearer to once I'm finished! Bye!!!!!

Before Appalling could say any more, Alpo-Low brought his thumb down on the "fire" button, and sent three waves of bolts hurling at Appalling, traveling at the speed of light (but still visible?). He avoided the first, and as he turned in retreat, was only nicked by the second shot wave. However, the third wave hit his read top portion, and crippled his number one (top) engine. Appalling didn't hesitate to press the turbo button in order to escape with what little power remained in his two engines.

Alpo pressed his turbo button, and went in hot pursuit of the crippled Appalling. Appalling was not going to die without a fight. He quickly did a 180 spin, and pressed the "in" button simoultaneously. Following this, he moved his thumb to the "fire" button, and let loose a few good blasts. The first couple missed, but the last one skimmed across the wiper's side, followed by a trail of red sparks from the exposed and seared circuitry. This made Alpo-low mad.

Although Appalling was expertise at wiper maneuvering, Alpo was his clone, and knew ahead of time practically every move he would make. And besides, Alpo had 50% more engines than Appalling! Appalling could not remain outside Alpo's crossfire for long, and soon was in its dead center. This was the moment of truth (and/or consequences!) — the moment Captain Alpo had been waiting all his life for. With a smirk of great anticipation, Alpo laid his thumb firmly down on the "fire" button.

The laser turrets sparked, sputtered, and arked, but no bolts were produced. The side hit Appalling had given him must have destroyed the laser circuitry! But would that stop Captain Alpo-low? You bet it would've! Expcept for one thing — he suddenly remembered he still had his one zucchini missle!!

He flipped the lever which would transfer control from the laser turrets to the zucchini missle launcher. As he did, he heard the faint sound of the launching doors opening, followed by the wiper's built-in alert that the launcher had been activated. By this time, Appalling had flown completely out of the crossfire, but Alpo knew this wouldn't be for long. As he guided Appalling into his crossfire once more, Appalling made one final plea — "Uh ... couldn't we just settle this over a few hands of pyramids?"

With a broad smile, and a loud, evil laugh, Alpo-low sent his death-dealing zucchini missle at the defenseless Appalling. As Appalling glanced backward, his face grew white with fear, and, indeed, he became paralyzed. The missle was halfway to the certainly dead wiper, when suddenly several red streaks appeared out of nowhere and were aimed directly at the missle. Appalling suddenly became overjoyed when the fourth or fifth stread hit the missle, and it exploded in midair.

Alpo let out a loud and angry yell as he swirved to avoid the blast. Appalling looked to the right, which was the direction the shots had come from. From a short distance he saw a wiper with scratched paint on its underside. It suddenly became clear who was flying it.

STARBUFF: Well, you don't have to yell!
APPALLING: I guess I owe you one now!
STARBUFF: No, we're even now — remember that grizzly you stopped?!?
APPALLING: Yeah, but he wasn't your clone!
STARBUFF: Okay, you're right — you owe me one!
APPALLING: Well, now that you've cleared it up — I owe you ½!!!
STARBUFF: Hmmm ... I shouldn't have opened my big mouth!!!!
ALPO-LOW: Waa! I could have killed him, and be done with it! But no-O-oh!!! Starbuff the wonderbrac had to come out here and stop everything!!
APPALLING: Hey, why do you hate me so much?
ALPO-LOW: Because you're my original!!
APPALLING: So? What's that got to do with anything?!?
ALPO-LOW: ALL clones hate their originals! It's the "in" thing!!!
APPALLING: Yeah, but do you have to go by tradition??? Be original — just this once!!!
ALPO: Yeah ... you're right! You've just transformed me into a good guy!
APPALLING: And now we can live happily ever after!!

You'd think the story would end here — but does it? Of course not! Can't you see the pages yet to come??? Anyway, remember what our good "friend" the writer said about the real challenge? Well, it's not over yet!!! The "something BIG" is still yet to come....

The two old friends with their newly discovered third turned to return to the CRAP-tica. Suddenly, their scanners began to be going wild. It was the first time they'd encountered something this large (half the size of a base tar!) with this arcane of a design. It was the shape of an isosceles triangle, with a multi-level cone construction. And painted on its side, in small block letters, was the word, "PYLON".

STARBUFF (with a look of "oh, my god!" on his face): Ho, m'god! (a short, more breathful version of, "Oh, my god!") What is that???
ALPO-LOW: I've heard about these — this is a Pylon Starc Ruiser!
STARBUFF: Hey — did you see how the word "PYLON" was spelled?!?
ALPO-LOW: Yeah.... YEAH!!!!
STARBUFF: Capitalized ... We're in trouble now!!!!!!!
APPALLING: Wait a centon! That's what I saw coming out of the Base Tar as it exploded!!! I have a feeling we're gonna die!
OH-DAMMIT: This is commander OhDammit calling from Battlestar CRAP-tica to Captain Appalling.... Are you still alive, Appalling? Over.
APPALLING: More than ever.... I've made friends with my clone! But I'm afraid we're in for more trouble than that! ... I've just discovered a Pylon Starc Ruiser headed in the general direction of the CRAP-tica!
OH-DAMMIT: Hey — did you see how the word "PYLON" was spelled?!?
APPALLING: Yeah, I already know about that! Anyway, the thing's half the size of a Base Tar, and about five times as deadly.
OH-DAMMIT (with a look of "oh, my god!" on his face): Oh no! (I bet you thought he was gonna say "Oh, my god!", didn't you!!!) Oh, my god!! (Well, you were right!!) Hmmm ... send Athinner and KaBoomer out there.

Athinner and KaBoomer jumped into their wipers, and launched to help the three who were already out there. This time, the flight was only five centons long. Meanwhile, Starbuff, Appalling, and Alpo finally decided to start an attack on the gigantic Pylon Starc Ruiser. First, Appalling got on target to the pilot's control center (apparently), and fired. The shots hit, made a little red glow, and faded out, having no effect. "Oh, my god!", Appalling announced. "I fired one shot at a Pylon creation, and it DIDN'T explode into nothingness!!! We're in trouble now!!!!"

A small door opened atop the starc ruiser, followed by the appearence of a medium-small laser turret. The turret twisted around so that it was aimed for our 2½ heroes. Fortunately, they'd thought enough to hide behind an asteroid five times the size of a wiper just before the Pylons shot. Each shot made only a glancing blow on the asteroid, but their combined power was enough to vaporize the rocky mass instantly.

At last, the rescue team of Athinner and KaBoomer had arrived. Alas, (or even a lad!) their services would do little good. The enemy was much too powerful — only a hit from a zucchini missle would have any effect, and then probably very little.

WRITER: Aw, the ---- with it! I'm givin' these guys a break!

Suddenly, out of the exit in the rear of the Starc Ruiser, about a hundred Pylon Raiders appeared. These, however, were not only Pylon Raiders; they were SUperaiders. Only 2 hits from these were necessary to scratch a wiper's paint, and one shot could only destroy one of the raiders. The five attackers were in tru-bul!!!

APPALLING: You call this a break???
WRITER: Sure, you like attacking — don't you??
APPALLING: Yeah, but not against worthy opponents!!!

The four who had firepower engaged in a raging attack, while Alpo switched on his "auto-repair", which slowly went to work on the damaged laser circuitry. It was vital that Captain Alpo-Low get that laser circuitry working, even if it were only one of the two turrets.

The battle became extremely fierce. Blue and Red bolts flshed every way in this third dimension — and then some! Pylon raiders were being destroyed, but at a much, much slower pace than usual. Paint was scratching everywhere, and even beginning to peel off from the sheer force of being hit. AlpoLow called in to Commander OhDammit to inform him of the situation. He said he'd "help", but gave no hint as to how.

By this time, Appalling's top engine had repaired itself, and Alpo was wondering whether or not his laser turrets were repaired yet. He pressed the firing button. Again, the sputter, the spark, but no bolts. It must've worked. It had to work. Hoping with every ounce of liquid, solid, and gaseous hope he had available, he once again pressed the "fire" button. The same nothing. Wait a centon!! He had completely forgotten to flip the level back from "missle" to "laser"!! Without hesitation, he did as I've just explained, and for the last time pressed the fire button. The turrets arked and sparked with growing strength, and suddenly, the starboard turret began firing. At last, he could rejoin the battle.

At this time, one of the Pylon Raiders observed the firing.

PYLON # 1 (aboard the raider): Look-sir! A-colonial-wiper-is-firing-a-stream-of-shots. What-should-we-do??
PYLON # 2: What-else? Dive-right-into-the-line-of-fire!!!

The Pylon # 1 did as instructed, and soon, Alpo had vaporized his first Pylon in the battle. About this, he commented, "I've heard of suicide missions, but that was ridiculous!!!"

Within a matter of a few microns, Alpo's port turret (in case you've forgotten, "port" means "left", and "starboard" means "right"!!!) was repaired, and he could really do battle.

The battle raged onward for a number of centons. Suddenly, from several frisbees away, came a great big flying mass. Before long, it was identified as a battlestar, and soon, the word "CRAP-tica" became visible. And if this wasn't enough, it launched all of its remaining wipers — all 19 of them (they had 24 originally aboard)!!

It wasn't long before each and every Pylon raider was destroyed. But this wasn't the end of their problems, as they soon discovered. The Starc Ruiser suddenly opened all its ports and shafts, and placed into each a turret of differing power levels. This was one of the more difficult battles to wage. The main central core of the Starc Ruiser was megnetically shielded so that not even a zucchini missle would affect it. The rest of the ship had the same shielding only weaker so that no laser shots could penetrate it, and isn't it amazing that the CRAP-tica knows all thes about a device it's never seen before???

The plan was for the CRAP-tica to fire its iniolator ray at the central core (the iniolator ray is another Dr. X device — incredibly powerful, but usable only once per day), which would remove the magnetic shield, and then to have one of the wipers fire a zucchini missle at it, destroying the entire Starc Ruiser in the process.

The wipers were unhesitant to engage in battle, as they did not want to be wiped out (thus, their name!). Much to their dismay (but not to the dismay of the audience! Wake up out there, goons!!!), the Pylons got the first move, and vaporized a wiper (wiped it out so to speak). This move would not go unchallenged, as another wiper (KaBoomer's) launched a zucchini missle at it, and completely disintegrated one of the major turrets. After that, the whole battle became a complete mess.

Soon, almost all of the turrets were destroyed (and with it went the supply of zucchini missles!). The only one which wasn't destroyed was a turret labeled "BD", and from the size of the thing (Oh, my god!), it obviously stood for "Battlestar Destroyer (or Disintegrator, or ...)". Also, the only one with a zucchini missle left was — sexy, stupid Athinner! The only hope for the CRAP-tica was an idiot who had the agility of a stone wall!!! And isn't it amazing that something like this happens on every episode!?!

As the CRAP-tica maneuvered its way into position, it was frequently being challenged by the BD, who fired several long-and-winding shots at it, each some frisbee-and-a-half long, by about two hundred fifty meters wide (diameter).

Well, finally the CRAP-tica made it to its perfect trajectory position (doesn't it always?), and fired its iniolator ray. Both Battlestar and Starc Ruiser shook on impact. Now, the only thing standing between the Starc Ruiser and victory was Athinner. She stared at the thing with bloodshot gaze — the fate of the last of the Pylons was in her hands (and they were cold hands!). With supreme concentration, she fired her zucchine missle.

A hit! A direct hit!! The Starc Ruiser was Pylonless and dormant forever!!! The end.

APPALLING: Wait a minute!
STARBUFF: What's a minute?
APPALLING: Same thing as a centon. Does this mean we're out of a job?
STARBUFF: Hey — that's right! Now that all the pylons are gone, we won't be needed by the fleet!!
APPALLING: Wait — did you see how "pylon" was spelled???
STARBUFF: Yeah ... but it doesn't make much difference now! They're all gone, and we're next!
APPALLING: No, we're not! Why stop with the plons??
J.T. KIRK: Yeah! I know about these bad guys called "klingons"!
L. McCOY: ... And the Romulans!!
KA-BOOMER: And there are these other guys called the "Empire".
LUKE S.: Those are mine! I want the Empire!
B. ROGERS: And what about those NBC people — the Draconians?!?
APPOLLO: And on ABC — the Cylons! Hmmm ... somehow, that sounds vaguely familiar!!!
ALL: Well, what are we waiting for?? Let's go!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Each flipped a switch, pressed their "turbo" button, and crossed the network barrier, each going their separate directions.

NEONLITE (control personnel aboard the CRAP-tica): Sir, we have just received signals of twenty or more objects, which were going in different directions, all crossing the network barrier!
OH-DAMMIT: Oh, my god (sound familiar?)! Our own men have deserted us!
NEONLITE: Can't say I blame 'em, sir!
OH-DAMMIT: I guess this is the end for me.
NEONLITE: Well, so-long! Don't take any wooden wipers!
OH-DAMMIT (who is sometimes known as "Lorne Green"): No! This is not the end — of "Battlestar CRAP-tica", yes! But only the beginning of a new series!!
NEONLITE: Huh? Oh — I see where you're coming from!!!
OH-DAMMIT: Yes — get me some black and some white paint. I'm gonna change the name of this hunk of junk.... From "Battlestar CRAP-tica" ...
LORNE GREEN: To "BATTLESTAR PONDEROSA"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
   T      H     H   E            E       NN    N  D  D
   T      H     H   E            E       N N   N  D   D
   T      HHHHHHH   EEEEEEE      EEEEEEE N  N  N  D    D
   T      H     H   E            E       N   N N  D   D
   T      H     H   E            E       N    NN  D  D
   T      H     H   EEEEEEE      EEEEEEE N     N  DDD
(Is it???)

Author's notes from 2014:
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