Rule by ijnfleetadmiral
15030. Any alcohol produced by the Science!Girls is hereby prohibited.
Fleet Admiral Jeffrey Briggs slowly came back to reality, then immediately regretted doing so. His head felt like Edge and Christian had used it for con-chair-to practice, and his mouth was so dry the surface of the Sun was probably wetter.
He groaned, then used his eyes to try and see his surroundings; turning his head would mean pain, and pain was bad. Pain very bad.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw he was at home in his own bed. As he attempted to gather his thoughts, the bedroom door opened and Wright walked in.
"Good afternoon, sir…nice to see you're finally awake," his Secretary Ship smiled at him.
"What do you mean by 'finally'?" Briggs groaned. "I'm guessing I slept in?"
"I would say so, yes, sir," Wright replied. "Quite a bit."
Briggs thought a moment, then shrugged. "Meh, it's Sunday…I can have a bit of a lie-in."
Wright winced. "Admiral, it's 1630…on Thursday."
"THURSDAY?!" Briggs yelled, then moaned as his head painfully reminded him that Noise Was Bad at the moment.
He sighed. "All right…what happened? What did I drink, what did I do, and how many times did I do it?"
"Actually, sir, you didn't have much to drink…just a couple of shots," Wright replied. "And there were no diplomatic incidents whatsoever."
Briggs blinked. "What are you not telling me? That's the real question here."
Wright looked as if she wanted to be anywhere else in the world right then. "Well, sir…you might have agreed to be in a television commercial."
"That's it?" Briggs was surprised. "Why were you worried about telling me that? Compared to some of the things that've happened around here, that's tame."
His Secretary Ship let out a forced laugh. "Just watch, sir." She turned on the television at the foot of Briggs' bed and hit 'play'.
"War," Phoenix's voice stated. "Anything can happen at any time. We're not promised tomorrow, so let's live today to the fullest."
"But to do that," SoDak's voice continued, "sometimes you just need a little push. Well, now you can have it, thanks to Crucero Loca Distilleries! Our specially designed alcohol combinations will leave you feeling no pain and ready to take on the world with nothing more than a pair of bikini underwear and a sack full of pesos! Isn't that right, Admiral?"
Briggs paled as he watched himself – albeit one who looked absolutely blitzed – stagger into camera wearing a Spanish-American War-era U.S. Navy uniform and strike a superhero pose.
"I'm Popeye!" Camera-Briggs announced in the same tone that Michael Keaton used to state his identity as Batman.
"So put the power of a battleship in your grasp with Admiral Briggs' Goose Juice!" Phoenix stated cheerfully. "With equal parts rum, tequila, and Everclear, one shot and you'll be loose as a goose and cleared for action!"
Camera Briggs slugged back a shot of what was presumably the drink in question, then his eyes bulged as the alcohol content hit him full force.
"YARR!" Camera Briggs roared. Smiling like a drunk gormless idiot, he drew a 19th-century cutlass from his belt and struck a pose with the sword like he was Teddy Roosevelt leading the Rough Riders up San Juan Hill.
The camera then revealed Briggs was apparently standing on the foredeck of a South Dakota class battleship, with each of the six forward 16-inch guns positioned at a different angle. Suddenly all six guns fired at once, but Camera Briggs didn't even flinch.
"Dun-dun-dun-dun-dun…Admiral Briggs! Goose Juice!" The television announced, as the shot of Camera Briggs posed behind six 16-inch guns firing off froze and became the label on a bottle of alcohol. This was followed by another disclaimer voice rapidly stating. "Use in moderation. Please don't drink and drive."
As the camera faded out, Briggs lurched to his feet and staggered out of his bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen while Wright watched in concern. In the kitchen, he pulled open the fridge and grabbed the large container of vanilla pudding, followed by a spoon from a nearby drawer. As he started chowing down, he noticed some papers on the kitchen table.
"What're those?"
"Designs for future alcohol products," Wright sighed.
Briggs grabbed one of the sheets and looked it over, paling as he read. "'Admiral Briggs' Full Fathom Five'…a mixture of rum, tequila, and TORPEDO JUICE?!" he cringed as his head reminded him yet again that Loud Noise Bad.
Wright cringed. "I heard talk of a merman costume for the advertisement." She paused and then stated, "Some of the girls voted for a Speedo."
Briggs whimpered and shoveled in more pudding.
"Your two favorite people have also gotten in on this racket," Wright reported. "I have initial drawings here for Yellowstone's Hot Lava, which is apparently aged whiskey with Ghost Pepper extract."
The Admiral's pudding consumption increased.
"And then we have Sparky's White Lightning, which is 195-proof vodka." She shook her head. "I don't even know if that's safe for human consumption."
She paused and noticed the muscle spasm in Briggs' right cheek. Not again…
"I'll call Oceanview to pick you up this afternoon, sir, and while you're gone I'll shut down the distillery."
