Departure Date +975

Departure Day +975

So I hear something rattling around in the air vent on deck twelve today and when I open it up, I find out why my records have been disappearing. After slamming the cover back on the duct, I flag down Rhodes who’s on his way to the cafeteria, and here’s the exchange taken from the closed-circuit camera:

“Have you seen these fucking things?!”

“What things?”

“They’re like…I dunno, rats or something, in the airduct. Right there!”

“Oh, the spider-squirrels…”

“Spider-squirrels!? What the f…you have a name for them?!”

“Well, yeah, they’ve been here since take-off, snuck on board. Squirrels with like fangs and eight eyes or something and they build little webs in the…”

“Why didn’t someone tell me about this?”


“Well, do they bite?”

“A little.”

“A little!?”

“Yeah, no big deal, paralyzes a teeny bit, just for a few minutes. Vasely’s been letting them bite his hand, then he runs to the toilet and gives himself a Stranger.”

“What’s a stranger?”

“Seriously? That’s an old one. Only, it was one of those things no one could ever actually do before now, like a donkey-punch or a dirty Sanchez. Until Vasely, he’s a sick…”

“I don’t give a fuck! Those little assholes are eating my Death From Above 12-inches in there. Do you know what I had to go through to get command to let me take that shit on board?”

“Oh yeah, they love plastic, rubber, any of that, helps them make the web-stuff. Guess vinyl works for them too. Kinda cute when their eyes are closed.”

“Cute? Oh Christ. Christ. Christ. Christ. Christ. Christ.”


“I don’t think I want to live knowing those things even exist, and you’re telling me they sleep in my air-conditioning.”

“Then I’m guessing you don’t know about the….well, look, if you see something that looks like a kitten with kind of a shark’s head, do not pet it, no matter how much it meows.”

End tape