The original, 27-page sequel to


Copyright © 1982 by Roger M. Wilcox. All rights reserved.
(writing on this combination script-and-narrative began 14-July-1982)

The original draft was written on an electric typewriter, which lacked square bracket [] characters. Unlike the draft it was a sequel to, this draft did (thankfully) have right margins. All spellings, punctuation, capitalizations, weird switching between script and prose, etc. are as in the original.

You have been warned.

There are those who say that what we thought came from down here actually came from out there; that the technology of the Egyptians, the Toltecs, and the Myans was not our own. There are those who say that there may yet be brothers of man who even now fight to survive.

And then, there are those who don't say that, and for them, we present ...

— Battlestar CRAP-tica —
(The ultimate GALACTICA put down)
IN THIS EPISODE: Starbuff catches a cold....

NEONLITE: Commander, we're being attacked by a squadron of pylon raiders!
NEONLITE: So?!? Don't you remember? We let our wiper fighters go out across the network barrier!
OH-DAMMIT: Oh, yeah. Positive shield, now.
NEONLIGHT: But what about the negative shield? We're going to need all the protection we can get!
OH-DAMMIT: Oh, shut up!

The pylons engage the CRAP-tica, which in case you missed the last episode, is now the Ponderosa. Pylon shots fly every which way, scratching off the paint on all sides of the Battlestar. When the smoke clears, and the pylons decide to leave for the day, a change has taken place.

OH-DAMMIT: Oh, dammit! Look what happened to my nice new paint job!
NEONLITE: Oh, no, sir! They scratched the new title of the battlestar clear off!
OH-DAMMIT: Yes. Now, this is no longer "Battlestar Ponderosa." It's "Battlestar CRAP-tica" again, and I hate that name!
NEONLITE: Me too, sir.
KERNEL DIE: Sir, four squadrons of wiper fighters have just been sighted coming out of nowhere!
OH-DAMMIT: Four squadrons? That must be our guys, heading back across the network barrier! How many are there?
DIE: Nineteen.
OH-DAMMIT: But ... there were twenty that left!
DIE: That means ...

They all turn their heads slowly toward the window as the camera zooms in on the stars and the band plays eerie music.

OH-DAMMIT: This is Commander OhDammit calling that big group of wiper fighters out there. Who is it?
ALPO-LOW: And me!
KA-BOOMER: And me!
OH-DAMMIT: Well, it's good to see that it's you! Is there anybody out there I don't hear?
APPALLING: Yeah. Lieutennant Starbuff is still out across the network barrier. I think he's in the Twentieth Century Fox universe fighting the "Empire."
OH-DAMMIT: Oh, Dammit! Is there any chance he'll be coming back?
APPALLING: Fighting tie fighters and star destroyers and other formidable opponents? You must be kidding!
OH-DAMMIT: I wish I were. I just have a funny feeling that he's still out there.

Once more, the band plays some eerie music. Meanwhile, Starbuff has his hands full shooting at tie fighters and trying to drive Darth Vader's theme out of his head.

STARBUFF: How do they expect the good guys to win if we have to fight against formidable opponents? Now, not only do I have these fighters and this battle music to worry about, but there's this nagging sensation in my head that calls itself "Ben." I'm getting out of here!

Pushing a little button on his panel marked "Return from crossing the network barrier - do not press," he suddenly disintegrates and reappears in the universal universe, galaxy ABC. Naturally, he has no trouble locating the CRAP-tica (after all, he only has a whole galaxy to explore).

STARBUFF: This is Lieutennant Starbuff calling Battlestar CRAP-tica. You copy, or what?
OH-DAMMIT: No, we don't copy, but we do some excellent printing. It's good to see that you're all right, Starbuff.
STARBUFF: Well, not really - actually, I'm a little bit battle damaged. Not only am I still scratched from underneath from where the pylons hit me last episode, but the Empire's "Ben" doing its thing too. You get it? "Been?" "Ben?"
OH-DAMMIT (with a look of "oh, my god!" on his face): Oh, my god! Starbuff, it was because of remarks like that that you were demoted from Captain! Now, shut your facet before you become a Warrant officer.
STARBUFF: I guess I made an imperial-sized mistake.
OH-DAMMIT: All right, that's it! Arm port laser turrets!
STARBUFF: Okay! Okay! I take it back! Please don't turn me into space dust, sir! I mean, space dust is so icky-poo!
OH-DAMMIT: Oh, all right. Disarm port laser turrets. And welcome aboard, Starbuff!

Soon enough, all the wipers and their pilots are on board.

OH-DAMMIT: Starbuff, you were right about the Empire doing some battle damage to your wiper. I'm afraid I'm going to have to assign yiou a new one.
STARBUFF: But you can't, sir! You just can't! I've had that wiper since I was three-and-a-half yarons old!
OH-DAMMIT: You've had that wiper since yiour last crash-landing, three weeks ago!
STARBUFF: Oh yeah. Okay, then, what's my new assignment?
OH-DAMMIT: I'm assigning you to pylon patron in the reconnaisence wiper.
STARBUFF: You mean that Dr. X marvel that doesn't even have laser guns?
OH-DAMMIT: That's right. I'm sure you want to meet Antagonice again.
STARBUFF: Oh, sure. I always wanted a hot date with a computer!
OH-DAMMIT: Look, Starbuff, ever since the destruction of the colonies at Carrion, we've only had odds against the pylons at 100-to-one in our favor, tops! And since you go around with Appalling and wreck a wiper every secton or so, we're running low on our supply! The Recon wiper is the only one we've got!
STARBUFF: Well, okay, but could you calm down Antagonice a bit? I don't like computers that are all over me. I mean, they're just machines.
OH-DAMMIT: Starbuff, have you seen "Tron?"
OH-DAMMIT: Neither have I.
STARBUFF: Will you calm down Antagonice?
OH-DAMMIT: That's Dr. X's territory. The only thing I can do is feed my Alpo dogs.
ALPO-LOW: You called, sir?
OH-DAMMIT: No, cloney. Get back to what you were doing in Athinner's sleep bay. Anyway, Dr. X won't go around doing menial tasks like taking out the afrodesiac circuits in a computer. He invents things.
STARBUFF: I know. I loved the zucchini missile, and I loved the iniolator (sic) ray even more. And now, I understand he's working on a zucchini missile revolver. But BRAC! I want a decent computer!
OH-DAMMIT: Sorry, Starbuff, but no.
STARBUFF: Felger Carp!
NEONLITE: Sir, our extra extra long long long range scanner has picked up something!
OH-DAMMIT: What is it?
NEONLITE: It's a dust particle a few hundred light-years outside of the galaxy.
OH-DAMMIT: How many times have I told you never to put the magnification up that high! Bring it down to extra long range, and then see what you get.... By the way, what's a "light-year?"
NEONLITE: The same thing as a light-yaron.
OH-DAMMIT: Starbuff, what are you doing?
STARBUFF: I'm going over to Dr. X. I've got to get Antagonice toned down!
OH-DAMMIT: Well, good luck. (You're gonna need it!)
(a little later)
STARBUFF: Dr. X, I presume.
DR. X: You've seen my picture displayed hundreds of times, and you presume I'm Dr. X?!? You have less intellect that I suspected!
STARBUFF: Can the funny stuff, that's my department. Your department is making Antagonice less of a "woman," if you get my drift.
DR. X: Certainly. Why don't you find out for yourself what's wrong! (He presses a button on his armchair, and a shaft of light comes out, casting the image of Antagonice's curcuitry on Starbuff's retinae.)
STARBUFF: Wow ... she's sure got a great set of I.C. shunts! Oh, here's the problem! You didn't put in enough resistors.
DR. X: Should've known.
STARBUFF: Well, are you gonna fix her, or what?
DR. X: I'm going to what. I don't want to leave my zucchini missile revolver hanging just to add a few resistors to an overaffectionate computer.
STARBUFF: Aw, gee, can't you just do it this once? It'll only take a few centons.
DR. X: Do it yourself. In the mean time, goodbye! (He pushes another button on his armchair, and Starbuff is whisked out of the room at about ninety miles a centar.)
STARBUFF: Well, he's sure in a nice mood today! (Suddenly, the lights in the background turn red, and a fog horn sounds.)
OH-DAMMIT: Infra-red alert! Infra-red alert! Appalling and Starbuff, we're under attack by a pylon base tar! Go get 'em, boys!
JELLY: Wiper pilot Jelly reporting for duty, SIR!
OH-DAMMIT: What are you doing here?
JELLY: I wasn't in the last episode, SIR!
OH-DAMMIT: Sorry. We're under attack by the pylons, and I'm only sending real men out there to handle them.
JELLY: Thank you, I think, SIR!
OH-DAMMIT (to himself): There are times when I wish he would just fall into a jar of his name!
STARBUFF (in his wiper): Well, ol' buddy, here we go again!
APPALLING: Pylons, eat ... FOOD DISKS!
(They both press their "TURBO" buttons simultaneously.)

The two wipers speed noisily through the soundless vacuum of space toward the pylon base tar, which is still the better part of a light-secton away. Suddenly, a big old cloud of things are sighted heading straight for their wiper craft.

STARBUFF: Pylons! They must have seen us!
APPALLING: No, they must have heard us! Wiper fighters going into battle are the only things in the known universe that can make noise in space.
STARBUFF: No, there's one other thing ...
APPALLING: What's that?
STARBUFF: Pylon raiders shooting on wiper fighters going into battle! Look out!
APPALLING: Yow! That shot nearly hit me!
STARBUFF: Gee, I'd hate to see your paint get scratched!
APPALLING: Come on buddy, let's go get 'em!

Appalling presses his "TURBO" button and speeds off into battle. Starbuff follows his example, but as he presses his "TURBO" button, he is suddenly aware of just how fast he is travelling.

STARBUFF: The stars! They're falling away from me like mad! What's happening?
ANTAGONICE: You're approaching the speed of light, sexy-bod!
STARBUFF: Oh, yeah. (He buries his head in his hands) Hi, Antagonice!
ANTAGONICE: Honey, I suggest we go back. The battle is that way.
STARBUFF: Oh, yeah - sure, sure. Take me back.
ANTAGONICE: Righty-o, tiger!

The wiper suddenly comes around in a long, sweeping arc, coming up right behind the pylons. The superchanged Turbos then shut off.

STARBUFF: We're going too fast, Antagonice. Can't you slow me down?
ANTAGONICE: We're on idle right now!
STARBUFF: I know, but idle's faster than any ship in the fleet normally moves! Tell you what; let's give these pylons a real scare! Antagonice, full turbo-thrust!
ANTAGONICE: Okay, whatever you say, sugar-pie.
STARBUFF: Hey, hey! Would you look at those pylons run! They didn't even know what hit 'em!
PYLON #1: What-hit-us?
PYLON #2: I-don't-know. Ask-the-writer-of-this-dumb-story!
PYLON #1: Okay. Writer, what-
WRITER: Shaddap, or you'll never see capital letters again!
PYLON #1: Ulp! Okay! Shadding-up-massah.
PYLON #2: I-suggest-we-go-into-battle-formation.
PYLON #1: What's-battle-formation?
PYLON #2: This! (It pushes a red button marked "Battle-formation" in pylon-ese. Instantly, the rest of the pylon raiders respond.) We-run-like-frightened-hamsters!
APPALLING: Yahoo! I scared 'em off!
STARBUFF: Wrong, we scared 'em off!
APPALLING: Starbuff? Where are you?
STARBUFF: Right here!
APPALLING: Glad to hear it.
STARBUFF: Going very near to the speed of light!
APPALLING: Whoa, that's heavy!
STARBUFF: Yep, that's right! That's one of the side-effects of going near to light speed, along with the blue shift, time dialation, object curving -
APPALLING: Thank you for quoting Dr. X, but I don't think I really care for a lecture on relativity right now.
STARBUFF (coming down from his accelerated speed): Say, did you hear the one about the two pylons who go into a pyramid house?
STARBUFF: Oh, darn! I've always wanted to hear that one!
APPALLING: (with a look of "oh, my god!" on his face): Oh, my god! This is going to be a long space opera. Let's go home.
STARBUFF: You mean back to Carrion?
APPALLING: No, I mean -
STARBUFF: Hey, I can go there, too! Antagonice, take me to Carrion!
ANTAGONICE: All rightey, sexy-legs!
APPALLING: Starbuff, you have the Recon wiper?
STARBUFF: No! I just brought Antagonice along for my health!
APPALLING: Oh, well that's all right. See ya!
STARBUFF: So long, sucker! (He pushes "TURBO" just as soon as Antagonice has him lined up with Carrion. The stars flash by, and the wiper is gone).
APPALLING: You know something, I believe he really did have the Reconnaisence wiper! (He maneuvers his wiper back to the landing bay, and lands (how about that!). He gets out and goes through his transport hole to the area near his sleep bay, then goes through a second hole which deposits him on the CRAP-tica's bridge.) OOOOOF!!
OH-DAMMIT: That reminds me, I meant to put that mattress back where I found it.
APPALLING: Thanks a lot, Commander!
OH-DAMMIT: You're welcome. Say, have you heard anything from Starbuff? You know how poorly he handles the Recon wiper.
APPALLING: Well, before he left, he did say something about the planet Carrion.
OH-DAMMIT: The colonies? Don't tell me he used the Recon wiper to take a vacation on that old hunk of ash!
APPALLING: Okay, I won't, but that's probably what he did.
OH-DAMMIT: Oh, dammit! He was our comedy relief! Now what are we gonna do?
APPALLING: Let the show go on without him?
OH-DAMMIT: Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! I'm glad I thought of it!
APPALLING: We can throw in Captain Alpo-low as his substitute.
OH-DAMMIT: Where do I keep coming up with all these brilliant ideas? We'll use Alpo as Starbuff's substitute! I never really did like that colognial warrior anyway.
APPALLING: And Starbuff never really did care for Antagonice, either! Don't worry, he'll be back.
OH-DAMMIT: How soon?
APPALLING: Before the show's over.
OH-DAMMIT: Within an hour, then.
APPALLING: What's an hour?
OH-DAMMIT: Same thing as a centar. Now, get back to your quarters for now.
APPALLING: Sure thing! (With that, he leaps up to the hole in the ceiling, and is whooshed back to the quarters level. Unfortunately, he forgot to close the hole that was surrounded by the red circle, so he continued on passed the quarters level back into his awaiting wiper.) Well, as long as I'm in my wiper, I might as well go out on a patrol. Transferring control to Turbos.
CONTROL CENTRAL: Wiper one, do not launch when ready. Your daddy is very angry with you.
APPALLING: Oh, forget Commander OhDammit! He's just an old guy who doesn't know anything about the modern generation of pylons!
OH-DAMMIT (occupying the launch bay in front of Appalling's wiper): Oh I don't, do I? Well, I know enough to tell you that if they catch you, you'll be stripped of your paint in no time at all.
APPALLING: Aw, c'mon daddy, pylons can't hit worth brac!
OH-DAMMIT: Watch your mouth, son, or I'll wash it out with treated glyceryl!
APPALLING: Glad to see you're a member of the new generation, dad! So-long!
OH-DAMMIT: You wouldn't launch out over your own father, would you?

Appalling closes his hatch, presses Turbo, and launches out over his own father.

OH-DAMMIT: You know, I believe he would. (He faints in a pile of black ash.)
APPALLING: Ah, what a beautiful universe this is. Look at this on the scanner: red stars, white dwarves, black holes, intergalactic space crap, - oh no! Not this time! The only other thing on the scanner is the pylon base tar that we forgot about a few centons ago, and there's no squadron of two hundred pylon raiders. After all, those things are supposed to carry three hundred pylons! I saw that last secton on Sixty Centons. Hmmm ... that base tar sure looks a lot closer to the CRAP-tica than I remembered it....
(meanwhile, aboard the base tar)
BALDSTAR: I can't stand this light shining up into my face to make me look evil! Somebody, shut it off!
LUCITE: I'm afraid that's impossible, oh inferior leader. The light comes with the command chair!
BALDSTAR: Well, then you command this dump for a while! My eyes need a rest.
LUCITE: But I don't command base tars! I'm just a servant! Besides, do you realize that by your stepping down you are giving up command?
B.S.: Yes, I realize that! I read the pylon base tar handbook! Now, leave me alone while I join forces with the CRAP-tica or something!
LUCITE: But last show, you were captured, sir! You remember what it was like aboard the CRAP-tica, and I assume you really don't want to go back there!
B.S.: I wasn't captured on the last show!
LUCITE: I know that, and you know that. But since that time, we've shown some reruns in which you were captured, like the one last week. You had terrible living conditions, the place was infested with veeblefitzers, and everybody around you was a criminal! And then they took you to the BRIG ...
B.S.: I don't care about the living conditions! I just want a place where they won't shine a light into my face!
LUCITE: They also put their illumination on the floor.
B.S.: Well, er, you're right. They are terrible living conditions! But I'd still like to take a vacation. I'm going to Carrion for a secton or ten. Look over the store while I'm gone! Goo'bye! (with that, he leaves, and speeds away in his private shuttle in a split-micron) LUCITE: I just love how people can go from one place to another with such speed in these shows! Now then, up to the chair. (He climbs the stairs to the high-chair, and sits down.) Hmmm ... I see what Baldstar means about the light! I'm glad I have my automatic sunglasses turned on!
(at the same time, simultaneously:)
APPALLING: This is Captain Appalling calling Battlestar CRAP-tica. Do you read, Commander OhDammit?
OH-DAMMIT: Yes, I read! I passed my literacy test yesterday! What's happening out there, Appalling?
APPALLING: Well, I have this strange suspicion that the base tar is after you.
OH-DAMMIT: Why do you suspect that?
APPALLING: Because they're on red alert and have all their weapons targeted on your Battlestar.
OH-DAMMIT: Hmmm ... you might be right! Commander OhDammit, over and out.
MOXIE: Grampa, what's happening to my daddy?
OH-DAMMIT: He's engaging a pylon base tar and will probably get blown to bits.
MOXIE: That's nice. What are you going to do about the base tar when it comes after you?
OH-DAMMIT: Gee, I don't know, I hadn't thought about it.
MOXIE: Why don't you ask my dangit for advice?
OH-DAMMIT: Okay. Stuffit, what should we do next?
STUFFIT: Bark! Bark!
OH-DAMMIT: Brilliant! I would never have thought of that! Kernel Die, bring us up to Red Alert!
DIE: But Commander, we already are on Red Alert! You never brought us back down to Green Alert after the last battle with the pylons!
OH-DAMMIT (with a look of "oh, my god!" on his face): Oh, my god! Well, bring us up to Red Alert anyway.
DIE: Okay. Red Alert, everybody! Red Alert!
NEONLITE: So what else is new?
OH-DAMMIT: Send Athinner, KaBoomer, Captain Alpo-low, and Jelly out there to aid Appalling!
DIE: But five wipers can't take on an entire base tar!
OH-DAMMIT: Maybe not, but those are the only regulars we have on the show! You wouldn't want me to send out any extras, would you?
CONTROL CENTRAL: Wipers 3, 4, 5, and 6, launch when ready.
ALL FOUR (pushing "TURBO"): Yeow! My neck!

Four tiny figures launch from one side of the CRAP-tica in time with the bacground music. Four trails of steam follow the craft from behind, the useless remnants of once-powerful fuel. Naturally, the exhaust wouldn't spread out in a big fan, because that's what it's supposed to do in space! But what can you expect from a people who fight galactic battles like they would World War II dogfights?

KA-BOOMER: Hey, Alpo, what's the point of sending all these little fighters out when we're fighting a base tar?
ALPO: So we can combat them when they send out all their little fighters!
KA-BOOMER: And that's the only reason?
ALPO: Yep; that, and for making some great special effects!
KA-BOOMER: It sounds so pointless to me.
ALPO: Maybe, but isn't it fun?
ATHINNER: Okay, wake up, you guys! My scanners've just picked up the base tar's full complement of 300 pylon raiders all coming after us!
JELLY: Well, guys, I guess it's battle time!
KA-BOOMER: Not quite - it's four hundred centars; tea time!
ATHINNER: C'mon, guys, this is no time to play golf!
APPALLING: You said it!
ATHINNER: Who said that?
ATHINNER: Glad to hear it. Let's give these pylons a real workout!
APPALLING: Then can I do the same to you?
ATHINNER: A definite "maybe not."

They all push their Turbo buttons and speed off toward the pylon mass. As they approach, each pylon raider fires a blast in a random direction for no apparent reason, and doesn't fire again for quite some time.

Alpo-low makes the first move. He pushes fire once, and watches the twin "laser" shots jump from pylon to pylon, destroying sixteen total. "Not bad," he thinks, "But I could've done better."

Next is Appalling. He decides to try a new twist, and takes a shot at a reflective meteor which was conveniently placed directly behind his wiper. The shots bounce off the meteor, killin twenty-seven pylons. "Well done," he thinks as he pushes a button on his panel which causes a hand to appear and give himself a pat on the back.

Now, it's KaBoomer's turn.

KA-BOOMER (firing once with each sentence): THAT'S for destroying the colonies at Carrion! THAT'S for inventing the base tar! THAT'S for killing the race that made you! THAT'S for killing John Wayne!
PYLON: But-John-Wayne-died-of-cancer!
KA-BOOMER: ... and THAT'S for inventing cancer!
APPALLING: The pylons sure got around, didn't they?
KA-BOOMER: ... THAT'S for organized religion! THAT'S for capitalism! And THAT'S for getting arond so much!!
APPALLING: Well done! At an average rate of nine pylons a shot, that's a total of ... seventy-two! Not bad!
KA-BOOMER: All in a secton's work.

Now, it's Athinner's turn. Sexy, stupid Athinner's turn. She's the only wiper pilot in the fleet that has the Appalling (sic) average of .95 pylons per shot! She's frequently called, "Old waste waist."

This time, her average is a little better; she averages 1.02 pylons per shot. This time, she shoots down 24 pylons with 23 shots. She's not the best aim in the fleet, but they needed a dull-shooter on their patrol when she was hired.

APPALLING: That was appalling!
ATHINNER: Well excuuuuuuse me!
STARBUFF: Hey, how're you guys doing out there?
APPALLING: Starbuff? Where are you?
STARBUFF: I'm on the planet Carrion. Believe me, the pylons did more good than harm when they attacked this planet! It's a lush tropic region all over its surface. It reminds me of Florida.
APPALLING: What's a Florida?
STARBUFF: Well, I don't know about Florida, because I haven't seen Earth yet. I also don't know about the United States, and Russia, and John Wayne (who the pylons killed, by the way), and air pollution, and Albert Einstein, and -
APPALLING: Yeah, yeah, we don't know about any of that stuff either! Right now, we're engaging the pylons.
STARBUFF: Well, wish them good luck. They're gonna need lots of it!
APPALLING: Say, Carrion is hundreds of light-yarons away from here. How can you communicate to us over that distance.
STARBUFF: Easy! I just run a string between two tin cans, and give one of them to you! When the string is pulled taut, it can transfer sound waves.
APPALLING: But Starbuff, I don't have one of those cans!
STARBUFF: Oh, well then forget everything I've said because it didn't happen. So-long! (he puts down his tin can.) Ah, this is the life! Palm trees, warm sunshine, female aliens who happen to be human-compatible, Baldstar, rolling - BALDSTAR?!?
BALDSTAR: You were expecting Peter Pun?
STARBUFF: What are you doing here?
B.S.: I'm taking a vacation, just like you.
STARBUFF: Well, it ain't a vacation as long as a colognial warrior and a pylon sympathizer are in the same place!
B.S.: Okay, if that's the way you feel ...
(one big fight later...)
B.S.: Waaaah! You hit me when I wasn't looking!
STARBUFF: Oh, shut up! I didn't ruin any of your major organs; just your heart, lungs, and brain! You'll heal!
B.S.: But you skinned my knee!
STARBUFF: Oh, all right, so I did damage one of your major organs! But you deserved it! All you want to do is help the pylons destroy the human race just so they won't kill you! Why don't you join our side?
B.S.: Because your lights are on the floor!
STARBUFF: You have a point there.
PYLON: Freeze-runners!
BALDSTAR: Where did you come from?
PYLON: Shut-up-human!
BALDSTAR: But I am your leader!
STARBUFF: Forget it, Baldy. He doesn't know you, he thinks you're just another human he has to destroy.
PYLON: I-am-not-a-he. I-am-a-she.
STARBUFF: Thank you, Gracey!
B.S.: Can't you do something?
STARBUFF: Okay, but just this once. Hey, pylon!
PYLON: What-do-you-want?
STARBUFF: Your hand is purple!
PYLON: No-it-is-not. I-checked-it-this-morning-and-it-was-not-purple-then.
STARBUFF: Well, it's purple now.
PYLON: What-are-you-talking-about? (She bends down to look at her hand)

As the pylon lowers his her head, Starbuff gives her a good swift kick to her breadbasket. The pylon falls backward onto her read end.

PYLON: Ouch! (She begins to draw her gun, but before she can finish, Starbuff shoots her.)
STARBUFF (blowing the smoke from his blaster): Well, that polishes her off! I have to be leaving now, so take care of your tin slot machines while I'm gone.
B.S.: Hey, Starbuff!
B.S.: You helmet makes you look like King Tut!
STARBUFF (hesitating): No, actually it makes me look more like Cleopatra.

Starbuff enters his wiper, closes the hatch, and engages a myriad of controls on his instrument panel.

STARBUFF: Why do they put twenty-six million controls on this thing when all it can do is scan, go forward, and go backward? I'd think the computers'd take care of all the picky details.
ANTAGONICE: Sorry, sugar, but we can't be everyplace.
STARBUFF: Yeah, I know. I guess.... Oh, Brac!
ANTAGONICE: What is it, Starbuff?
STARBUFF: I think the pylons didn't quite turn this place into a paradise. They left behind a few viruses.
ANTAGONICE: How's that, honey pie?
STARBUFF: I think I'm coming down with a cold. Dang it!
ANTAGONICE: Don't use the name of an animal to swear, tiger. It's unladylike.
STARBUFF (with a look of "oh, my god!" on his face): Oh, my god! Don't come down on me just because I'm not acting like a lady (after all, this is the "new generation!") I mean, if they can put a man in hyperspace, why can't they cure the common cold!
ANTAGONICE: Could it possibly be because colds have been isolated down to only a few planets in the known universe, and those planets have chlorine and cyanide atmospheres anyway?
STARBUFF: Well, that might have a little to do with it. But why did I catch a cold here?
ANTAGONICE: You probably got it from Baldstar. You know how unsanitary those pylon sympathizers are.
STARBUFF: Yeah, pylon synthesizers can be rather infested at times. Now then, Antagonice, on to the CRAP-tica!
ANTAGONICE: By your command.
STARBUFF (during the takeoff): Arrrgh! Antagonice, could you cut down the engines a bit? The human body can only take five or six gravities of acceleration before unconsciousness!
ANTAGONICE: Oh, I'm sorry! I thought you could take ten or eleven. I'll decelerate immediately....
STARBUFF: Too late -
ANTAGONICE: Starbuff? Starbuff! Oh well, he's more affectionate now, anyway. (the ship sails into interstellar space. At the rate of speed it's going, it should only take two or three hundred yarons to rejoin the CRAP-tica.)
(meanwhile ...)
ATHINNER: Appalling, I'm hit!
APPALLING: Did that pylon fire? I told them specifically not to do that! Just wait 'till he asks me for a lollipop! Did he scratch your paint, Athinner?
ATHINNER: This is no time to be thinking about sex!
APPALLING: No, not your paint, I mean ... I mean ... your paint!
ATHINNER: Oh, well in that case - no. He just disabled one of my engines.
APPALLING: Felger carp! Don't tell me they're employing more superpylons again?
KA-BOOMER: No; if they were, they would take more damage. They probably equipped their pylon raiders with hand blasters in place of their regular guns.
APPALLING: And they set them to "wiper engines," right?
KA-BOOMER: Either that, or purple dragons! After all, their hand guns are the same as those we use.
APPALLING: Yeah. I'm bored. What say we finish up here?
JELLY: Hey! I didn't get my turn yet!
APPALLING: Okay, then, you finish them off for us!
JELLY: With pleasure! (with a single laser blast, he destroys all 161 remaining pylons).
APPALLING: Jelly, you might have the least social know-how, but your aim is superb!
JELLY: Thank you, SIR!
APPALLING (burying his face in his hands): Save it for Commander OhDammit.
OH-DAMMIT: What was that?
APPALLING: Oh, nothing that concerns you.
OH-DAMMIT: Did you destroy their pylon raiders?
APPALLING: Yeah, but I don't know what you're so afraid of.
OH-DAMMIT: I just had the CRAP-tica painted. Anyway, all wipers return to the CRAP-tica. I'm gonna take on this base tar head-on!
STARBUFF: I hear ya! I'm comin' in on a wing and a horny computer! Prepare the landing bay to take in a wiper going at three-quarters of the speed of light!
OH-DAMMIT: Starbuff! I thought you were vacationing on Carrion!
STARBUFF: I was! But I ran into a little trouble, and I think I caught a cold.
OH-DAMMIT: But Carryon is hundreds of light-yarons away! How'd you get back so quickly?
STARBUFF: The same way I got there! I went through a loophole in the plot!

Soon, all six wiper fighters are back on board, and Starbuff is given a relaxant to help him recover from the in-flight movie ("Planet of the female computers" - chosen by Antagonice, of course).

OH-DAMMIT: Doctor X, I presume.
DR. X: Don't PRESUME anything! That way, you won't make a PRES out of U or ME! What's up?
APPALLING: We want to know how the zucchini missile revolver is coming along.
DR. X: Just great - in fact, I'm finished with it! I have the prototype all drawn out! Come with me....
APPALLING (looking at the prototype): What a piece of felger carp! That bulky revolver hanging down from the rest of the wiper will make it so unstable that it'll hardly fly!
DR. X: That's where the improvement comes in ... (he uncovers the lower part of the drawing) Ta-da! That large fin sticking down there will increase its air stability!
APPALLING: Yeah, I know. I always need as much air stability as I can get while I'm in outer space.
DR. X: Don't crack jokes, that's my department.
APPALLING: Actually, It's Starbuff's. - Oh, go on, go on.
DR. X: I call this stability fin the "pearl handle." And this little doo-hickey in front of it -
APPALLING: Don't tell me, that's the "trigger," right?
DR. X: You peeked at my plans!
APPALLING: Just took a guess. Er, sorry Dr. X, but I don't think the new zucchini missile revolver will work well on a wiper.
DR. X: That's what you said about the Reconnaisence wiper, and you went and built one anyway!
APPALLING: With mixed results! Okay, exey baby, we'll build one experimental zucchini missile revolver wiper model, but that's it! In the mean time, why don't you come up to the bridge and watch the battle. It's going to be a doozey!
DR. X: Sorry, but I'd be more comfortable watching it from the monitor here in my laborrrrratory.
OH-DAMMIT: We plan to use the iniolator ray to destroy the base tar. This is Baldstar's base tar, and I've wanted to destroy this one all my life.
DR. X: You want to use the iniolator ray on Baldstar's base tar? Forget it! It's plated with contract armor!
OH-DAMMIT: What's that?
DR. X: It's armor strong enough that not even my iniolator ray can penetrate it until Baldstar's contract expires.
OH-DAMMIT: Aha, but according to Starbuff, Baldstar's not on board! He's on the planet Carrion!
DR. X: But Lucite is on board! Hmmm ... well, the iniolator ray won't do it, but an ice cream torpedo might.
OH-DAMMIT: Maybe. What do you think, Stuffit?
STUFFIT: Bark! Bark!
OH-DAMMIT: Right! Let's go!
APPALLING: He's always talking to that Dangit. He needs help.
OH-DAMMIT (back on the bridge): All engines ahead!
NEONLITE: How fast, sir?
OH-DAMMIT: The speed of light!
NEONLITE: But sir, going the speed of light requires an infinite amount of power, and we haven't pushed the engines that hard in a long time!
OH-DAMMIT: I don't care! All engines ahead at the speed of light! And step on it!
APPALLING (fending off the giant foot that just appeared): Dad, I think the writer's getting a bit tired of the bad puns!
OH-DAMMIT: Are you?
WRITER: Yes, I am! Now shut up or I'll capitalize the pylons again!
OH-DAMMIT: Ulp! Uh, sure, sure! Shutting up, mazzah!
NEONLITE: Base tar dead ahead, sir, and within firing range. Should I arm the iniolator ray?
OH-DAMMIT: No, arm and be ready to fire an ice cream torpedo.
NEONLITE: What flavor, sir?
OH-DAMMIT: Chocolate fudge.

A hush falls over the crew as the band plays dramatic music.

OH-DAMMIT: I want to be sure I kill that thing!
NEONLITE: Yes sir, sir!
JELLY: Wiper pilot Jelly reporting for duty, SIR!
OH-DAMMIT: Oh, go jump in a reactor.
OH-DAMMIT: But stay here a while first. You're gonna live this light show!
JELLY: Whatever you say, SIR!
OH-DAMMIT: Someday, I'm going to have him traded in for an old coot. At least an old coot'll show a little respect!
NEONLITE: What's a day?
OH-DAMMIT: Same thing as twenty-four centars.
NEONLITE: But how come we don't have a single word describing that much time if we have a word for a week?
OH-DAMMIT: Because they ran out of words that could end in "on."
NEONLITE: But "centar" doesn't end in "on."
OH-DAMMIT: Neither does your job! Get it?
NEONLITE: Not really. I wasn't trying to catch it.
(the ship edges ever closer to the base tar ...)
OH-DAMMIT: Ready the ice cream torpedo ... FIRE!

Instantly, a single blob of chocolate fudge springs from the firing port on the front of the CRAP-tica. The blob flies ever closer to its target and ...

It hits! The entire enemy base tar is enveloped in brown gook! Instantly, the corrosive sugars in the chocolate fudge ice cream torpedo begin eating away at the base tar, and when they are done, nothing remains.

JELLY: Some light show. I've seen better displays in the meat department.
OH-DAMMIT: What's that?
JELLY: Oh - I mean, I've seen better displays in the meat department, SIR!
OH-DAMMIT: Remind me to tar and feather you some day.
BALDSTAR: Ha! I escaped the base tar's destruction! Surely, you didn't think you could destroy me, did you?
OH-DAMMIT: No, I didn't. And don't call me Shirley!
BALDSTAR: Now, all I have to do is find another base tar, take command, and by next secton I'll be up and running again!
OH-DAMMIT: But we did manage to destroy Lucite!
BALDSTAR: You dummy! Hasn't it yet occurred to you that all those little robots look and talk alike! They're also all named Lucite. We won't even change actors!
APPALLING: Brac! I thought we really had him there, too!
BALDSTAR: Now, if you boys don't mind, I'll be taking my leave now. Good day, and may the lords of Cobol be with you!
STARBUFF: Hmmm ... somehow, that phrase sounds familiar. Nah; I probably heard it in an old movie or something.
OH-DAMMIT: Well, I guess that's it. We can all sit back and play pyramids until next secton.
STARBUFF: Not quite. There's one more thing I've gotta do....

He walks across the Battlestar until he comes to the lab.

STARBUFF: Doctor X, I presume.
DR. X: I do wish you'd say something original for a change! Okay, Starbuff, what can I do for you?
STARBUFF: Do you have a cure for the common cold?
OH-DAMMIT: Fleeing from the pylon tyrrany, the last Battlestar, CRAP-tica, leads a rag-tag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest: A shining TV series, known as ... Bonanza!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Author's notes from 2014:
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