Sorry this is kind of crap - I tried! I could probably go somewhere with this if I had more time but…
Junior had a serious case of the munchies.
Unfortunately all this dead goddamned starship had in the galley was a bunch of packets of freeze-dried just-add-water meals that were so not what he was in the mood for right now. “SpagBol,” he muttered, reading the label of one and tossing it haphazardly back into the cupboard in disgust. “Ugh.”
Doritos would be nice. Cheesy, zesty, crunchy doritos. Yum.
He wiped a thin trail of drool from his chin and straightened as the video screen behind him buzzed. “Incoming video call for Junior Space-Claw,” the friendly computer voice intoned.
“I told you, I’m not Junior Space-Claw,” he muttered. His dad had liked the superhero-villian moniker the press had given him so much that he’d had their names legally changed. Junior had not been impressed. Claw was bad enough.
The video flashed onscreen, and there was his dad, or his hands at least, all that Junior ever saw of him anymore.
“Hi, dad,” he said glumly.
“Junior,” his father rumbled. “How are those evil plans coming along, son?”
“Great,” said Junior. “Real great, yeah. I think I can get the MegaGirl unit under my control, and she’ll take out the rest of them. We’ll be back on Earth with those insect eggs before you can say Evil Mastermind.”
“Good, good,” Dr. Space-Claw said, rubbing his metallic hands together. “Don’t let me down, son.”
“No, I’d never do that,” said Junior.
“Now, about this bag of-“
“What? Sorry? I think it’s breaking up again, Dad. We’ll have to try again later!” Junior pressed a couple of buttons on the panel, causing the screen to static.
“Hey, can you tell New Mom to send me some Doritos along with those headphones? Thanks, see ya later, bye!”
He closed the transmission and leaned heavily against the console, wondering how many times that would work.
He’d never asked for this job. He’d just thought maybe if he did it, his dad might finally-
He stopped this train of thought where it began. He knew he’d never be the kind of evil genius son his dad really wanted.
Might as well go smoke some more weed.