NOTICE! I do not own anything in this fanfiction, save for two characters.

Down in the doctor's office, most of the crew sat with grim looks on their faces. They knew HE was gonna be ticked at them...

Then Jumba came down, and there was something on his hip that looked like a sheathed machette. He had a suspiciously calm look on his face. "Heh, we are all here?" he asked.

"'Scuse me!" Hammer Bro said as he ran in.

"Good," Jumba said. Then he walked into the middle of the room. "Now, if you'll excuse my ordinary speech, gentlemen, are you all..." He unsheathed the machette! "...IDIOTS!?" The alien swung the blade around, nearly slicing off several crew members' heads! "Do you realize how hard I worked to make us look like an upstanding crew? Do you want to blow the whole mutiny before it's time!?"

"The kid was snooping around," Randall replied.

"You just stick to the plan, you over-sized chameleon!" Jumba snapped, "As for Hogarth, I'll make him so tired he won't be able to think."

Later that night, Hogarth was still swabbing the deck. GIR was riding a mop this way and that, until he slowed down in front of Hogarth.

Hogarth gave GIR a playful look. "Well, this has been a fun day, huh? Making new friends ... like that lizard maniac!"

"Lizard maniac?" GIR asked, then remembered who Hogarth was talking about. "Oh, you mean THIS guy!" He then projected a hologram from his eyes. It looked like a rather cartoonish version of the monster.

Hogarth chuckled. "A little uglier."

Then zits appeared all over the Randall hologram's body!

"Pretty close," Hogarth laughed.

GIR shrugged, and the hologram disappeared. Then, Jumba came onto the deck, carrying used medical stuff.

"Well," he said, smiling, "thank goodness. You were up here for an hour, and the deck isn't destroyed." He then pressed a button on the back of GIR's head, making the top of his head open, and dumped the medical garbage inside.

"...Look," Hogarth said, "What you did back there..." He smiled. "Thanks."

Jumba closed GIR's head and looked at Hogarth, a bit of a sad curiosity in his eyes. "Did your father not teach you to pick your fights more carefully?"

Hogarth's smile disappeared. His face drifted into anger, and he turned around and continued to mop.

"...You're father is not the teaching sort, is he?" asked Jumba.

"...That's just it," Hogarth replied, leaning over the side of the ship, "I don't know. He and my Mom died before I got to know them. I've got foster parents, but I don't WANT to get to know them."

"Oh..." Jumba said sympathetically, walking up next to Hogarth, "My apologies."

"Heh, no big deal," Hogarth said, "I'm doing fine."

"Really?" the doctor murmured, then turned to look at his assistant. "Well, since the captain put me in charge of you, I'm going to teach you a few skills, whether you like it or not."

"What?" Hogarth asked, a little perturbed.

"From now on, I won't take my eyes off of you."

Now Hogarth was ticked. "You can't--"

"You won't even eat, sleep, or scratch your back without my permission!"

"Don't do me any favors!"

"Oh, don't worry, Hogarth," Jumba told the boy, "I won't!"