driftfleet | ii - action/video

Entry tags:

ii - action/video - open

Who: Eugene Woods
Broadcast: Video
Action: the Wonderduck
When: Tuesday Evening

[Eugene has been on a ship full of teenagers long enough - it's time he delivered on the promises to actually feed them adequately. Which is why he's now broadcasting from the galley, flour-speckled and far, far too pleased with himself. So pleased, in fact, that he'll just go ahead an monologue at the rest of the fleet.]

Some of you out there may have heard a saying, that there's no such thing as bad pizza. Now maybe you haven't heard this - say, for instance, if you come from a world that doesn't actually have pizza. But if you do, this is probably a pretty common truism. Whether you agree with it or not-? Well. That's a matter of taste.

[Pun fully intended, as the little curl of his lips and glint of his eye gives away. But he continues, because in space, there's no one to cue a laugh track.]

But in a hermetically-sealed tin can drifting through the cold vacuum of space, I think we can all agree that standards change. And in celebration of finally creating something that sort of, basically behaves like cheese . . .

[Camera pan to the oven, which he opens with a showman's flourish to reveal . . . a pizza! Basically. Sure, the cheese is a little more yellowish than usual, and the toppings are mostly diced canned meat product and mixed vegetable compound. But it's close enough for him to grin as he shuffles a hand into an oven mitt and withdraws his creation to rest on the stovetop.]

Voila. One down, and another five pies' worth of dough and cheese ready for the crews of the Wonderduck and Vanquish. Not exactly a New York slice, but hey, if anyone wants the next best thing this side of Alpha Centauri? Let's talk.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I know! I'm amazed you're the first in here.

[He already has a knife, and is waiting for the pizza to cool enough to slice. Which, honestly, is sort of torture.]

So are you gonna take your due as captain, here?

Uhhh, sure. If we can change that from my due as captain to my due as the asshole who showed up and yelled "first". Sounds more in character for me.

[He leans over to get his first in-person eyeful of a Semi-Proper Space Pizza™.]

Dude, this looks leagues better than the buggy shit I saw a few pitstops back.

Space gas station pizza? I'm not even sure I should ask.

[Up close, it's definitely . . . More like a pizza than not! Again, kind of yellowish, and up close smelling a little more like barbecue (thanks, Atroma, for not even giving a guy some tinned tomatoes), and with the mixed-vegetable-and-canned-meat toppings in uniform 'flat strip' shapes of varying sizes. The cheese stretches almost the right way when he levers a slice up onto a plate and passes it over.]

Oh, it was back on a moon. So it was a little better than a gas station, but, uh, it moved. Which was pretty unfortunate. It almost totally eclipsed the fact it was purple and green.

[This yellowish cheese is totally respectable compared to that and Davesprite is all too happy to take the plate off Eugene's hands. He gives the pizza (barbecue pizza??? idk, he's a nineteen-year-old boy, he's into it) a little sniff before he takes a bite.]

Yikes. I'm just gonna hope everything in that description was intentional.

[Eugene takes his own piece and, after blowing on it once, takes an experimental bite. And . . . Wow. It actually isn't too bad. The sauce still needs work, and the cheese has a texture that takes some getting used to, but it has a nice springy pan crust and the toppings play pretty nicely into the whole ensemble. Given what he had to work with? Solid B, maybe B-plus.

He keeps his poker face, though, waiting for Dave's reaction.]

[Davesprite's reaction essentially amounts to brightening after the first bite and then promptly scarfing down the rest with absolutely zero decorum.]

Whatever sick science you dropped on that oven, [he is definitely talking with his mouth full, sorry, Eugene] please do that again. Because holy shit.

[ALL HAIL THE SPACE PIZZA.]

Food science and desperation. Natural allies.

[He can't quite deadpan enough to hide that he's gratified by the verdict, and he turns to get himself a glass of not-Coke, as long as he's happily polishing off the last of his slice.]

How many of these do you think we're going to need?

[Davesprite opens his mouth, closes it, and thinks that one over.]

...Probably way more than is reasonable. You're gonna have to ration it or risk Isaac eating two of them all by himself.

Dave. Buddy. You're asking the guy with one leg to keep pizza away from a hungry teenaged werewolf.

[Eugene is just gonna shoot him a pointed look over his soda as he takes another swig.]

Hey, no, he doesn't even lapse into the steretypical, savage, claw-your-face-off werewolf thing. [...] Most of the time. Even during full moons, whenever those happen in space.

[Davesprite sure has no idea how the nuances of Teen Wolf wereisms work.]

I just mean him knowing it's a thing would probably make him think twice before he polishes off an entire pizza. Mostly 'cause I'd torment him by doing the same thing right in front of his face. [#friendship]

Well, it's good to know that he won't devolve into a pizza-fuelled wolf frenzy.

[He off another slice, plopping it onto Dave's plate expertly.]

I'll let him know it's half a pizza per crew member to start. At least until we stock up our strategic pizza reserves.

Half a pizza?

[The echo is one of complete surprise. HALF A PIZZA???]

That's almost a full half of a pizza more than I was expecting.

[Excuse him for a moment, Eugene, as he looks at this second slice of pizza in total wonder.]

Yeah, you're my favorite crew member.

What was I supposed to give you? Two slices?

[The thought alone is offensive.]

I could put that away when I was your age, no problem. And I wasn't zipping around like a hummingbird.

Ouch, dude. Talk about a blow to my pride.

[He does not actually sound offended by the hummingbird comparison, though.]

And I wasn't totally sure I was gonna get a second slice, to be honest...?

[Said as he takes a huge chomp out of it.]

Okay, that is too sad to even comment on. So I'm just going to go on record saying that hummingbirds are awesome, and I don't know why you wouldn't want to be the animal that flips off science's ideas about what bird wings are even supposed to do.

[Davesprite opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again.]

I feel like I got called on in class unawares and was just thoroughly schooled about bird science. They're just...

[He holds up his thumb and forefinger.]

...so fuckin' small. I've eaten bigger nachos.

Okay, okay. You have a point there.

Two points, actually. I . . . am almost positive I could fake nachos at this point. I mean, you know. Horrible stadium nachos, but that still counts, right?

Oh my god.

[Oh my god.]

Dude. Please. The best I can do is Doritos. Nachos are just the vastly superior option.

Man, I'm actually kind of impressed by Doritos. How did you pull that one off?

[And Davesprite just...zap a glowing orange bag of Doritos into existence. Looks like a pretty cool laser effect! Also radioactive!

He pops the bag open and offers it to Eugene.]

I can make pretty good knock-offs of the shit they stock in Mad Snacks Yo, but anything less than fifty percent high fructose corn syrup and Red 40 is beyond me.

[Quietly whispers "what the fuck is Homestuck" in the background of this thread.]

-holy shit.

[Said in the tone of softest reverence, though Eugene is very careful in reaching into the bag, pulling out a chip, and sniffing it. Cheese powder, corn chip, basically everything he expects except for the whole glowing bit.]

How have you not died of scurvy already.

By virtue of being a zoological nightmare preserved in a day-glo seizure kernel, probably.

[He filches out a couple chips and munches on them.]

I can do four different flavors, but I dunno how authentic any of them are besides the Nacho Cheese.

Damn. What else can you conjure up? Energy drinks? Red Vines?

[Wait. WAIT.]

Oh my god can you make chocolate.

Chocolate would imply I've got a modicum of cooking ability, which I definitely don't. I'm pretty much limited to the garbage you'd eat when trying to convince yourself the Xbox game you're playing doesn't suck, but actually it does. A lot.

[Basically, all manner of chips, Cheetos included. He could probably pull off that nasty spray cheese, if someone reminded him it exists.]

Energy drinks are doable, but I haven't got them right yet. They still taste a little weird.

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