Every week we see adventures in Atlantis from the top down. And it's a good thing too, because otherwise we'd be stuck with guys like these . . the Bottom Feeders!

By Goo and Rank-and-Filed

From: Gearoid
To: Maggot
Subject: Whathefuhhh?

Holy crap, Maggot. I dunno what Atlantis looks like up your way but down here I see a shitpotful of paperwork. And I dunno what you even call half this stuff. I mean, what form do I USE to inventory damn alien microwave ovens. Are they alien microwave ovens? Please christ tell me they're not, like, Star Trek food copiers cause if they're food copiers my life is a goddamn nightmare and I am NEVER gonna get the inventory right. I am gonna have nightmares of that Physics puke comin' in here and copying his coffee stash. Didja ever see that Disney flick with the Mouse mopping the floor and all the mops? I just nearly crapped thinking of marching PowerBars taking over the city.

That Weir broad keeps asking for stuff too. Wants to know what rooms are for. She tells us, "I don't need all the contents, just a general idea . . ." Like I could find a general idea if it bit me in the ass. Fuck if I can even figure out what these places are FOR. We thought the damn kitchen was maybe for ice hockey till Major Hairboy showed his pretty face. Damn, but I was looking for the Zamboni. Coulda had me some fun body- checking Hutzler up on what I figure now's, like, a giant frigidaire. Room was cold as shit and bright as hell and then in walks MHB and alluva sudden there's stuff dropping down and rising up and flipping outta the walls and this scrawny little geek claps his hands and says "Iss Kitchen!" like Santa left him a supermodel under the tree. Mannn, those guys need to get laid. Least the little guy's not an asshole like the one you got stuck with. Jesus Christ what a primodonna.

Did they stick ya in the lab? You a lab rat now, washing bottles and shit? Or they putting you on some other shit detail? Me, I got crap-all tunnel in my future.

Gearoid.

From: Melvin

To: Gearhead

Subject: rocks

Jesus, you think you have it bad? They wanted me to paint the rocks yesterday. Paint the fucking rocks! Who the hell paints rocks? And why? We're in a subteranean city, for cryin' out loud! And the best they could come up with was for me to paint the rocks. I have got to get another job! And the paperwork! If I see another DA form 159-87 I'm going to puke. Whoever heard of a form to request more forms? At least you got someplace interesting to work. Around here, all I get to do is wash the bottles, pour the bottles, clean up the mess the nice scientist made when she spilled the bottle. I can't wait to get some rank on my collar so that I can get some other poor schmuck to do this shit. There is one cool doohicky around here, though, and I don't even have to write it up! It makes a weird noise anytime anyone walks past, and cool little lights flash when you get too close to it. Kind of afraid to venture too near, lest it reach out and suck out my brains or something, but its fun to watch the butter bars jump every time they walk past it. Not much else going on. I think they are wanting me to move those nice painted rocks I did yesterday to someplace else. Who knows? I'll talk at you later.

Melvin.

From: Gearoid
To: Maggot
Subject: Butterbars of the deep

Crap. Rocks? What the fuck? Listen Maggot, they got me watering plants. I gotta say, at least I got the butterbar with the tits! The florist or whatever the hell they call it told me to water the plants. The dead ones. The creepy dead ones. Do NOT ask me what she expects 'em to do.

Uhhh, Mags, where are you gonna GET the forms? I think Margie lost 'em on the way through. I saw her crawling over the boxes and shit and cursing cause some of 'em were missing. Come to think of it, that's pretty damn good. I wonder what Sumner'll say when we run out of forms. Hell, he'll probably just shit some out of his ass.

And I gotta correct ya here Maggot. We're in a sub-SEA city. Hey, I listened when the Weir chick briefed us. I figure I'll make sergeant any day at this rate.

Least I will if Lt. Shit for Brains doesn't get me killed. Herkimer's got a betting pool for how long it takes him to get somebody fragged and he's got a damn point spread for severity of injury. Shit. That boy's not RIGHT. Course he's got Ell Tee SFBee pegged. The LT dragged us all over the place yesterday and believe me, I can tell you every single question he got right on the SAT now. Asshole. All he can talk about is how he'd a been at Yale if it weren't for how they discriminate against rich white boys. Fucker.

But man, lemme tell ya. When he got himself locked in a crapper I nearly lost it. Took us an hour to figure out how to open the door. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it. I swear he nearly shit himself. He was in there going on and on about how we were to tell his folks he'd died 'serving my country'. We got the door open and took a look and he's sitting on the shitter looking like it's a foxhole. Jesus Christ I nearly lost it. Herkimer got pictures. I'd give my left nut for a copy of that.

Gearoid

From: Maggot
To: Gearhead
Subject: Re: Butterbars of the deep.

A shithouse? Well, what do you know! An LT who finally found the right place to be at the right time. Who'd'a thunk it? You mean they have you watering those creepy dead things that look like those pods from Aliens? The ones I mentioned might reach out and grab you if you turn your back? Ick! And what do you mean you'll make Sgt? The only reason you listened to that breif was because her tits bounced every time she made a point. I remember you telling me it was 29 bounces! But ok, ok, I cencede. We're a sub-SEA city. Which makes me have to ask - if we're all the way out here in the middle of BFE, how the hell are we going to hide the bodies? I mean, the way things are going, these LTs are about 10 seconds away from finding a grenade on their pillow or something. Not only did they have me moving rocks yesterday - moving fucking rocks! - but that creepy scientist, you know the one, dropped me! What the fuck? All because I told him his latest toy smelled like my old basic boots. 70 pushups later, and I am really starting to hate this place. Anyway, got to go. The petri dish is calling, and hoyty toyty is going to have a fit if I'm not there to help discover a new use for foot rot. Go figure. Take it easy, and don't turn your back on those damn plants! I'm telling you, one day they'll open up and a face hugger is going to be doing the mamba on your face. Oh, and send me a picture of the shit house incident!

Maggot.