Jack Jeebs’ Less Than Stellar Day
Jack Jeebs was having a good week. Oh, yeah, it was fine, dog. The way things were going, he was going to make the best profit today that he'd seen in months.
And the best thing was, he had it all sewed up. Every last detail nailed down and ready to go. Absolutely nothing could go wrong n--.
BANG! went the front door.
"H-hiyah, K."
Oh, shit.
"You lied to me, Jeebs. And you know what happens when you lie."
"Whoa, whoa, K. Just-hold on a minute."
"All right, Jeebs," K sighs. "You know the drill: count of three--." Oh, man, there’s that whine from K’s blaster powering up.
"Wait, wait! I’m moving here! See?"
"You are now.”
"I can’t believe you’re still pissed about those Centauri weed whackers. Like I told ya, the manuals never said anything about a buzzsaw attachme--."
"JEEBS!!"
"All right! All right! I’m goin’!"
Stomp, stomp, stomp, down the stairs to the basement under his shop, with K just a few steps behind.
Figures. It just figures. The perfect deal, and just when it was about to go like Qworellian clockwork, he had to come walking through Jeebs’ door.
"It’s just over here. Hey, you wouldn’t be interested in a Hroolup karaoke machine, would ya? My cousin found three of ‘em, just lying by the side of the road out by Tau Delta IX--."
WHIIINNNE
"OK! OK! DON’T SHOOT!! GEEZ!!!"
Jeebs can barely hand over the package, his hands are shaking so much. That glare K is giving him definitely isn’t helping.
With a growl, K snatches it from Jeebs’ hands. "Do you have any idea what this goddamn stuff would do in the wrong hands?"
Jeebs shrugs. "I thought it’d be funny--."
"Funny!? Maybe I have shot you in the head too many times."
"Hey, yeah, about tha--."
"-Do not push your luck, Jeebs. Now I’m putting you on notice. You even hear about any more of these going on the market, anywhere, I’d better hear about it within the half hour, or we’re going to find out just how many of your parts you can do without. Clear?"
"S-sure thing, K. No problem." Jeebs chuckles. "Always glad to help. Model citizen, that’s me."
With one last glare, K spins on his heel and stalks back up the stairs.
And there, Jeebs sighs, goes his perfect deal right out the shop door.
Well, at least K didn’t ask about the nuclear suppositories.