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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/campfires/item_id/807368-The-First-WalMart-on-Mars
Rated: 18+ · Campfire Creative · Fiction · Comedy · #807368
Wacky Cow pioneers light a campfire all the way to Mars, Still Funny After Many Years!
[Introduction] We are bovines from the planet earth. Our assignment is a daunting one. Now that Mars is open for business we are assigned to establish the first Wal*Mart on Mars.

But this isn't just any Wal*Mart. It's a Supercenter and I need all my friends to help me on this perilous journey so that we remember all the features of Wal*Mart to give to the Martians.

Our spaceship is disguised as a Chocolate Chip Cookie with Walnuts.

Please join me in this adventure and don't let me moo alone to the galaxies. And whatever you do, bring your sense of humor as we journey into the unknown.

Due to some sort of intergalactic time warp we received this honor of being nominated in 2016. Thanks to all my campers - could not have done it without you all! *Heart*

We thank you all from another galaxy for the Honorable Mention. *Cow* whatever the case may be the ones of us still here are deeply mooved.


A signature for Quills honorable mention winners to use
A Non-Existent User


0800 Hours

Starship C.H.I.P.S.

As I computer navigate the vast galaxy where Spirit and Opportunity preceeded us, my weighty and scientific thoughts are interrupted by a shrill moo.

"Hooves, what's the C.H.I.P.S. stand for again? You don't look like Eric Estrada to me!"

"Cows Helping Introduce Premium Shopping," I answer, sighing heavily. I know the herd back at NASA is enjoying their Cow C.H.I.P. joke and all the double entendres at our expense, but I'm happy to boost morale at the home base.

That's alright, though. Thanks to the Mars missions of Opportunity and Spirit we know that Mars is populated by creatures with horns that make mooing sounds. What better way to get acquainted then by bringing them the best store on the planet?

A Wal*Mart Super Center is scientifically vacuum packed in a small plastic bag strapped to my back. All I have to do is break the seal and those Mars Bovines will feast their eyes on a fully stocked discount store the size of 10 football fields. This store will be the place in the galaxy where they can enjoy rock bottom prices for all their Mars-ly needs.

Humans and their politics, greed and pollution will, of course, come later. Right now, our focus is to make a good impression on our brothers and sisters grazing on Mars.

My thoughts again are interrupted by more rude mooing.

"I bet William Shatner had quiet when he was trying to write his log," I grumble under my breath. "Now I know why he quit that and went to Priceline.Com."
The ululant sound I've been dying to put that word in a sentence for almost a week now! *smile* of the handy dandy miniature hoof held beeper reverberated throughout the Chip-mobile space craft.

Hoovsie rolled her eyes and turned down the volume of the Roling Stones Special Version of "I Sit and Watch, AS STEERS GO BY"

"Chips Ahoy, mon Captain. Hola, and all that other kinda greeting," came the voice.

"Yo! This is Hoovsie, your Captain Speaking. Everything secure down there in the Toy and Record Department? Don't want any beachballs floating away that could be mistaken by the Martians to be Liz Taylor stopping in for a visit."

"Everything is right on target."

"Please don't use that name TARGET!"

"Sorry, Captain. It won't happen again."

"Very well. Now why are you calling me just as I am about to watch a rerun of Lorne Greene on the Ponderosa? Never know when I may spot one of my relatives out there grazing on some bottom land."



The southern steer tapped his com badge, “Captain, it’s MooCoy. This is a medical emergency. Send someone to ten backward right away.”

A voice responded, asking what the problem is. The southern accent became thicker as MooCoy answered. “I have a mad cow here. Apparently, she found out that we have high carb food items at our snack bar, and she is demanding something else”

MooCoy stopped to listen to the reply, but it seemed to upset him. “Dammit Captain! I’m a doctor, not a chef!”
T'Pau T'bone, high priestess of the secret Vulcan religion, studied the Mad Cow. The Cow was laying on the electric piano, singing old Ethel Merman songs. T'Pau R'Bone turned to Spocket, second in command and the half-vulcan of fame and fortune, and said, "Thee must agree yon Cow is Mad."

Spocket raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Indeed, madam, and Etherl Merman, that alone is proof of madness. What was that cow thinking."

Suddenly the yellow light by the door of Ten Backward began to flash. An annoying voice kept saying, "Yellow alert. All hands, yellow alert."

"Pardon me, T'pau T'bone," Said Spocket, "I must attend the captain on the bridge."

Sprocket headed for the bridge, where he found Captain Hoovsie sprawled on the floor, legs akimbo, out cold.

"Now this is highly unusual," said Sprocket, chewing his cud thoughtfully as he surmised the situation. He checked and found a steady pulse, and after a thorough body search, couldn't find any external injury or anything apparently wrong with the Captain.

He noticed some cookie crumbs as he moo'd into his communicator, "MooCoy to the bridge. I repeat, MooCoy to the bridge, STAT!"

And as he turned back to the Captain, he was startled to find a clump of blue fir near Captain Hoovsie's head. "Hmmm," he said, ponderingly, as he eyed the fir suspiciously just as MooCoy burst onto the deck.

"What is it, Sproket! I have a Mad Cow to deal with, and let me tell you ..." his voice trailed off as he noticed Hoovsie splayed out on the floor. "Oh my god, it's the Captain!! Who is responsible for this trechery, Sprocket?!"

Sprocket kicked the blue fir toward MooCoy. "Calm down, MooCoy. It's obvious that this could only be the work of the inter-galactic Cookie Monster ..."
Meanwhile, in the lair of the inter-galactic Cookie Monster...

"Moo-yum, Moo-yum," voiced the Cookie Monster, "These cookies are great but..."

"Yes," said a little red furry monster called Elmo, " what is the but for?"

"I should've squeezed that mad cow for more milk, now I have nothing to wash away the crumbs in my mouth."

"But CM," said Tickle-me Inter-galactic Elmo, "We have their Space version The Milkman."

* * * * * * *

Back on the ship the crew is still trying to examine the effects of the mad cow...
The nad cow mimicking Ethel Merman is loosing up her vocal chords by singing the "Do Ra Moo" scales. She is on key but her vocal power is making the ship hem and haw like it was a 747 in the middle of a hurricane forced gust of wind. The other inhabitants, the ones not directly involved in trying to bring Capt. Hoovies back to the world of normal space travelers, brace for the rough ride by grabbing to and holding on to whatever they can find.

Instrument panel are lighting up with "Master Caution Lights" and buzzes and big cowbells. When suddenly, out of thin air comes a voice... an inter-galactic voice...

"Excuse me shoppers...this is the manager of the Martain Planet's K-Mart and we ask you to divert your course back to where you came from."

This voice, as the humans of earth know, sounded a lot like a inter-galactic Martha Stewart.

"I was under the suspicion", continued the voice, "that selling those stocks was perfectly legal...so please let an insider trading home decorator/homemaker/fashion designer/wedding planner be allowed to hide in the solar system without being hounded for autographs"
Meanwhile, deep in the bowels of the ship, there is a problem.

"If she takes much more she's gonna blow," Murmurred COWlin, the chief engineer. "and I cannae hold this accent much longer!" He leaned over the malfunctioning piece of equipment and deftly applied another layer of duct tape.

"All right, the esspresso machine will live another day. Now what else is breaking down around here?"
A Non-Existent User
"COWlin sir!" I found the two beachballs the Captain was worried about! They are bumping into everything in the makeup isle sir! I'm afraid one martian has spotted Dolly Pardon going frantic because she can't find two-inch eyelashes she desperately needs!"

"MooCoy to the makeup isle STAT! Dolly is hyperventilating!!"

"I'll help her, yelled the martian!"

The martian grabbed Dolly and lowered her to the floor. Her eyes fluttered open and a smile came upon her face.

"Why Michael Jackson! What on Mars are you doing here??"

"Oh Dolly, I'm so glad you are alright, whispering with his boyish voice." I flew here on my personal rocket because I heard that Wal*Mart was going to have a cosmetic surgery department, in case some of the martians wanted some facelifts. Since no one will work on my face anymore on earth, here I am!"

"Hold it Martian! Let go of Dolly, yelled MooCoy."

"It's me, Michael!"

"Michael Jackson?! I'm sorry, I thought you were a martian holding onto the beachballs."

"Why don't you and Dolly follow me -- we'll head to my office where I can take a close look at that nose of yours, or what is left of it, and Dolly can glue her lashes on."
Moomy4life rolls her eyes as Moocoy leads Michael and Dolly to his office.

Moomy4life hears a commotion coming from the dairy department. She hoofs it as quickly as possible to see all the stock-moos staging a protest.

"Captain," she yells, "we seem to have a problem in Dairy Aisle 1."

"What is going on here?" cries Moomy.

"We are protesting this lacto-free dairy product. How are we supposed to make a living if this is what we are introducing to Mars?"

Moomy turns to the Captain - "Maybe you'd better handle this one."

Back on the bridge, Lt. Uhoofa informed Captain Hoovsies of an incoming commoonication signal. The captain, still a little milkshaken from the encounter with the inter-galactic Cookie Monster, nodded. "Report, Lt. Uhoofa."

But Uhoofa's eyes widened in terror.

"Sir, it's a McDonald's commercial, broadcasting from Mars!"

The captain sat up, ears perking and eyes straight ahead.

"We may have to lock horns with them. They should know that Martians are vegetarians, but they have catchy slogans, the carnivores. All hands, battle stations! Weapon status, Mr. Sprocket!"

"All price guns loaded to maximum with Yellow Smiley Face stickers, Captain."
The Captain jumps up and yells, "Hold fire! Hold fire!" Frantically, everyone turns to Captain Hoovies in startled amazement.

"Do you hear that? Shhhh quiet, listen...uh that deep dark voice! Don't you hear it?" Captain Hoovies whispered in question.

Ms. LexiMoo and Moomy4life looked in concern, "Um sorry, we don't hear...," but they were disrupted by a loud roar," ♫♪ROLLBACKKK PRICEZZZZZ♫♪!!!!"

Captain Hoovies' hands flew in the air with fury as he cried: "Where in the hell is that damn Rollback Man? He's always lurking, but we can never find him! No one is to fire any Yellow Smiley Face stickers until they find Wal*Mart's (Moo*Marts) Rollback Man!"
Meanwhile, Ms. MooOllie steps from her cabin to begin her shift on this exciting voyage unaware of the chaos onboard the ship.

“Mad Cow! Mad Cow onboard!” Statler chuckles.

“Mad Cow! You herd too? Herd!” Waldorp slaps his knee.

“What are you doing here? Where’s the Captain?” Demands Ms. MooOllie.

“The Captain?” the hecklers reply in unison. “I’d be more worried about Cookie Monster eating the ship.”

“Eating the ship!”

“This way Ms. MooOllie,” Scooter appears out of moo where.

“Scooter!”

“Ms. MooOllie, we have serious technical difficulties. Cookie Monster is eating a hole through the ship, McDonald’s has launched a propaganda attack, Michael Jackson has boarded the ship in search of more plastic and Miss Piggy is karate chopping to deflate Miss Dolly.”

“I’m going to the Captain.” Ms. MooOllie stomps her hooves.”

“Hey Waldorp, let’s go to Captain D’s.” Statler snickers.

“Shut up! Shut up! I hate hecklers.” Ms. MooOllie snorts. Where’s Ms. LexiMoo?”

“Looking for her dictimoonary.”

“Where’s the Milkman?”

“On the Milkymoo!” Statler elbow Waldrop.

Ms. MooOllie quickly draws her mootastic taser. “This mission is salvageable. Flap those lips again and I will splatter you with a nerve tranquilizing cow pile.”

“We give! Just don’t make us play moo pile with Michael.”

Ms. MooOllie sighs, “you two are driving me mad.”

Moonight Madness sale?”

MEANWHILE, IN ANOTHER PART OF A SHOPPING MALL FAR, FAR, MOOWAY . . . .


"Master Mooda, these prices here at this Super Mall really suck hind-teat. They're milking me for everything I've got!"

"The dark side is strong here, yes?" The small green skinned milker looked up mischieviously at his new apprentice. "I feel a disturbance in the MOO. Strong, brave cows will lead the way to a better life. A moo kind of experience in shopping, yes?"

"Yes, Master."
A Non-Existent User
We really need a MOOnlight MOOdness sale!

Let's start with the garden shop, shall we?

All cow MOOnure is half off!

LawnMOOwers are buy-one-get-one-free, provided you buy at least five hundred pounds of MOOnure because those MOO cows virtually eliminate the need for MOOwers. Not to mention the fact that the planet Mars has very little vegetation, but we're working on MOOrganic grass grown the scientific way.

Oh, and by the way, we're running a special on MOOnure as we happen to recyle it. Bring in your used MOOnure and we'll give you an additional twenty five percent off your own purchase of new MOOnure!

Cow bells are one third off. After all, Mars is a huge place and we don't want our cows to get lost in the craters and Mars dust.

As our Wal-Mart Moo's hurl through space and time to complete their mission, the hooves of fate are preparing to deal them a terrible blow once they reach their destination (oooh, ooooh.....let us re-phrase that - a terrible *surprise* awaits them once they reach their destination. So sorry, the "b" word is a sensitive one that should NEVER be used around our bovine buddies).

Anyhoo...down on the surface of Planet Mars, the Spirit rover was finally able to continue its mission after a slight snafu. Clo, the infamous Sonoma County, CA spokescow for Clover Dairy, had inadvertently messed things up just a tad bit after landing. The "shrink" technology that had allowed her to sneak on board to begin with, had malfunctioned slightly when she went to "re-size" again - one of her udders had inadvertently plugged up a crucial transmitter in Spirit's communication system. Having fixed that little problem, she was now able to concentrate finally on her crucial moosion -- to bring the wonderful world of Target - or "Targ - aaa`" as she liked to call it - to Mars before the C.H.I.P.S ship could beat her to it.

Her "spy cow" aboard the C.H.I.P.S. ship had informed her that things were already running amuck inside the small plastic bag of Wal-Mart that Captain Hooves had strapped to her back. Herd member employees were already complaining about the measly hay rations, and the Caliente cattle from across the border were REALLY moo'd off over their sub-cowcontractor status.

Could Clo complete her mission in time? Could she de-compress her Target Wonder Store and hook the Marcows on Target's world of shopping before Wal-Mart could come in and take over? She knew she had to mooooove fast.
Back on Wal-Mart Mootilda and her friend, as well as fellow associate, Mooanna were busy taking orders from their boss, Gregory.

"No!No!No!" he mooed, "I want the store to be waxed from top to bottom! The people on Mars must believe that plant Earth is a very clean plant!" With that he stomped off to break up a fight between Moonica amd Marilyn Moonroe, they were fighting over how to display the potato chips.

As Mootilda and Mooanna began waxing the floors someone began walking towards them.

"Oh! my goodness!"mooed Mooanna, "It's him! It's..."
A Non-Existent User

Elvis. The Ghost of Elvis looms heavily over the galaxy.

0900 Hours

Starship C.H.I.P.S

Captains Log

As I am Rotating some cylinders with my hooves to lower my blood pressure, Mister Spocket interrupts my thoughts.

"Captain, you must get control," he moos. "Rotating those cylinders reminds the crew of Captain Queeg. You don't want a Mutiny on the Cookie, do you? There are already rumors of KMART and TARGET uprisings."

"Is it Spocket or Sprocket?" I ask, changing the subject, having heard his name pronounced both ways.

"Both are correct. Call me The Artist formerly known as Spocket. Sprocket reminds me of those Sat Night Live Cows in Tights," Mr. Sprocket says blandly.

"Take his blood pressure. Take his blood pressure. He's about to blow!" Comes over the loud speaker and I wonder if Dr. MOOCoy could possibly mean me.

Then, I know he does as they all start to close in on me, the scoundrels. Still I rotate my balls with my hooves as I try to look unconcerned. A good captain never looks worried. Lorne Greene never looked worried on the ponderosa.

And a good captain also keeps his toupee looking nice so I make a note to self to get my horns polished in the C.H.I.P.S. spa on the morrow.
The high pitch sound of a boatswain's pipe breached the silence of the Captain's quarters. The notebook computer screen lit up with a close up picture of Lt. Uhoofa.

"Captain, I have an urgent message coming in from Starship Command."

"Well if they want me to change the prices on Kathie Lee's intimate apparel tell them it's udderly ridiculous at this point in time. On second thought Kathie Lee doesn't have any intimate apparel. If she did, Frankie boy, her hubby, wouldn't have let his eyes as well as other body parts roam to another green pasture."

"It's a weak signal Captain. Static filled. I can barely make them out."

"Well try swiveling around in that chair. With that high bee hive hair due you have been wearing since 1963, I can see why your blocking the radio signal."

"Yes, I can make it out now. Message warns us that there may be stowaways on board our ship that are illegal aliens without green cards and posing as commode consultants, and janitorial assistants.

"Great Caesars Ghost!" Captain Hoovsie shouted.

"There's more Captain. The Ionosphere Border Patrol is standing by to board and search us once we cross into that sphere. Should I acknowledge Star Fleet of the course of action you plan to take Captain?
"Mmmm mmmm mmmm um mmmm!"

"Can you say that again captain", Uhoofa sounded a bit confused. "We seem to have a communication problem."

Meanwhile at sickbay...
"MooCoy, I don't need a therMOOmeter in my mouth -- I'm not sick! Save your talents for someone who is." The captain MOOed in an irritated voice.

"Dammit, Captain, if you don't take a rest, I will take command of this chip myself."

"...And I WILL take a rest MooCoy -- tomorrow."

With that said, the Captain tapped his com badge to continue his conversation with Uhoofa. "Uhoofa, since when do I ever clue Star Fleet in on my course of action? ...And there is no border patrol in this area! They must be Kmart employees trying to stop us from opening on Mars! Blue Light Alert! Bridge, I'm on my way."

The ship began to shake violently as the Captain made his way to the bridge. A blue light began to flash on and off, followed by a series of red dots that resembled bulls-eyes (or targets, if you will).

"What. Fresh. New. Hell. Is. This?" Captain Hoovsie sputtered, but before he could resume his seat at the helm, Captain Hoovsie was blown off his feet (which was no small feat) by the blast of a designer stun gun (which comes with a stunningly accented carrying case) wielded by none other than Isaac Mizrahi, who beamed onto the bridge with Todd Oldham, who threw a comforter from his "Dot Bedding" collection over Hoosvie's splayed form. Thalia Sodi and Joe Boxer followed close behind in yet another flash of blue light, cackling maniacally.

"This is no border patrol," boomed Spocket, as he reached for his own laser gun. "This may very well be the end of the universe as we know it, for logic dictates that if Target and KMART ever join forces, the apocalypse can't be far behind!"

"It's pronounced 'tar-jay' - it's French, big ears," scoffed Mizrahi, as he turned his designer stun gun (which comes with a stunningly accented carrying case) on Mr. Spocket...
Mr. Sproket wasn't alarmed because he was a Vulcan and he had the Vulcan Moo pinch at his disposal...no alien has ever been able to release himself from the long, strong fingers of a Vulcan. All he had to do was reach for that nerve and squeeze and you were like K-Y Jelly in the hands of...

The voice of the Inter-galactic Martha Stewart o nce again boomed over the speakers of the control panel. "We are having a blue light special on boys clothing...every shirt, pants, socks and shorts are 50% off. This got the attention of the the resident and owner of the "Neverland Ranch"...
Oh Milkman did you have to mention ranch... I'm homesick. I miss the chain around my neck when you were milking the cows. I miss the feel of the cool grass between my cloven hooves. Swatting flies with the deadly accuracy of my tail, searching for Bad Llamas in the desert and making fun of Trigger One; President's Bush's horse, are all things I now miss. If I could cry Milkman I would. I'm glad that you and Capt. Hoovies are here but I wanna go home and shop in the Wal*Mart that is already established.
Meanwhile, back in the depth of the ship, Chief Engineer COWlin is pondering the situation. "All right the beachballs have been locked in the brig. We've got some minor comoonications failure, but that can be fixed. The Cosmic Cookie Monster is eating through the hull. I guess that's a priority. What else can go wrong?"

Chief Assistant to the Assistant Chief Engineer, 2n Mootenant Mini-Moo, stepped out of the Turbolift doors. "Chief, Target and K-Mart have joined forces and are attacking the ship."

"That was a rhetorical question, 2nd Mootenant. Speaking of which who got the first room anyway?"

"Well, it must have been a rhetorical answer. Regardless, Target and K-Mart are attacking the ship."

"Blast it all. Someone should tell them to go to L. All right, we'll have to call out the reserves. Luckily I still had some contacts in South east Asia. When I went to pick them up I had a chat with some friends in R&D down there and got some items that just might suit the occaision." COWlin and Mini-Moo opened the secure locker.
A Non-Existent User
While opening the secure locker, there is a loud explosion, COWlin and Mini-Moo fall backwards, covered with silicone jell.

“I thought those beach balls were locked up in the brig!!” Yelled COWLin.

“I’m sorry sir! I thought they were too! Mooed Mini-Moo.

Well, grabbed those Martha Stewart portable pressure washer units that she is known to use time to time on her staff and go wash down the Cosmic Cookie Monster – quench his thirst so he stops nibbling on the hull. Give Target and K-Mart a wash down too! What works for Martha, will work here! And refill the beach balls up with water and then duck tape them back together.

“Aye, aye, sir!”
Moomy4life also feels homesick. This mission has turned out to be mooch moore than she had anticipated. Moomy came along for this journey to nurture and encourage everyone...."What shall my role be now? It is chaos and everyone seems to be falling apart?? Captain!!! I am concerned about the well-being and sanity of the moos on this ship!!"
         Ms. LexiMoo looked at Moomy4life in deep concern. She knew she needed to get to Ms. MooOllie and ask for advice on how to help before it was too late. After all, Ms. "Deputy" MooOllie was wise if anyone would know what to do it would be her. Lexi began to search the ship for the moo-wise deputy, and nothing would stop her until she did!


         She searched room by room in high hopes, but she wasn't anywhere in sight. Ms. LexiMoo entered one room and her eyes were in disbelief. She had been on this ship from day one, and never had anyone seen what she had saw. They had only heard his deep voice echo through the ship from time to time.


         There sat the Roll-back price man, and next to him was Ms. MooOllie!


         "A Budmoowiser Light," Ms. MooOllie questioned offering a long neck bottle to Ms. LexiMoo.


         Ms. LexiMoo silently sat down and took the bottle. She had no idea what was going on, but knew that she could definitely use a Budmoowiser.



The Roll Back Price Man frowned.

"What's wrong with him, Ms.OllieMoo?"

"When the blue light went off he went ballistic, bouncing off the walls turning himself black and blue."

"Rumors are running moo mad." Ms. LexiMoo whispered in a moo. "Most of the herd is homesick."

"I think someone has spiked the troughs."

"What?" Ms. LexiMoo jumped up, stomping her hooves.

Ms. OllieMoo mooed softly, "I thought I saw Elvis with Martha Stewart sail by on the tail of a comet singing 'Suspicious Moos. And the Roll Back Price Man talks of traitors aboard the Cookie and of a superior being named Roswell."

"MOO!" Ms. LexiMoo exclaimed. "Roswell and Martha have kidnapped Elvis!"

"We are never going to establish a Walmart with all this chaos."

"Forget the tasers! Arm yourself with a price gun and I'll go find the Captain." Ms. LexiMoo clicked her hooves before trotting off.

"Who is gonna keep an eye on the Roll Back Price Man?" Ms. OllieMoo chased after Ms. LexiMoo, leaving the little round guy all by himself.

"Master Mooda, I am detecting a giant creature attacking an earth vessel in orbit around Mars!"

"Yes, I can feel the disturbance in the Moo-Force. I'm afraid its the Giant Cud. How soon can we get their to help them?"

"If we jump to Mooper Speed, we can be there in four hours."

"Prepare the ship for jump!"

"Yes, Master."
Meanwhile back in the Wal-mart store Mootilda and Mooanna were fighting. Mootilda feel in love with an older cow-worker named Mooen. Mooanna got jealous and began to flirt with Mooen, instead of doing her job.

When Mooen refused to flirt back because he too had fallen in love with Mootilda, Mooanna got mad and began to fight with Mootilda.

Finally Mooen stepped in and said...
Enthusiasm aboard C.H.I.P.S. is outstanding, or at least a hoof as all hands make ready all that is necessary in setting up the new Wal-Mart store on Mars. With all the shemoonigans on board, no one notices that Buttermilk Bonnie, a likeable, but naïve bovine from a nearby planet and yes, another time frame, was accidentally beamed aboard the space ship.

Previously, the sour milk hoofer was on the same space station as former intergalactic trader, Cyrano Jones. For his part in overrunning a starship, The Enterprise, as well as the space station with troublesome self-propagating tribbles, Jones was given the monumental task of transporting them back home to their own planet.

Tribbles were cuddlesome, cooing, furry balls of fluff that had a soothing, relaxing effect on anyone holding and petting them. But they became pests and were considered dangerous when they got into everything, including the machinery and the food stores.

Jones was busily handing out the self-multiplying tribbles to all the moo gals that were visiting the space station, including our stowaway. So Buttermilk Bonnie wound up on Captain Hoovesie’s spacecraft holding on to our star boarder, a TRIBBLE. BB hides in the rafters over the Engine Room.

Uh, Oh! It may be that the shelves of the new Wal-Mart on Mars will be stocked with adorable merchandise that never runs out. No? Yes?


TRIBBLES....WHY ARE THOSE THINGS HERE! Asked Captain Oreo.

You know why. Somewhere up in Walmart land someone thought it was cute idea. They bought it for their kid and then it was passed on form there. There are so colorful and cute yet little do people no how deadly they might become.
All I was told is SELL, SELL, SELL.

That is why we have a ship full of these lovely little creatures that do whatever their master wants. They multiply like mice too.

Here we are: Mars.
A Non-Existent User
1200 Hours.

Captains Log.

Tribbles, tribbles everywhere on our spacecraft. We have landed on Mars but we have to delay the first Wal*Mart opening while the crew rounds up the Tribbles. But the tribbles are multiplying. As fast as we round some up we have more to find.

Soon there will be more tribbles than bovines. I fear a mutiny, but I share this information with no one. But I need to share. I have watched too many episodes of MOOprah and Dr. Phil, not to mention Dairy Springer. The bovine love triangle between Mootilda, Mooen and Mooana has threatened to become a rectangle since the swarthy Mooen has fested his eye on the winsome yet husky Buttermilk Bonnie.

Will our Wal*Mart bovines be distracted by this soap opera in our midst? Bovine Bessie has sent me a Memoo saying that there is only one BB on this ship and it ain't Buttermilk Bonnie.

Oh, MOOprah, please channel your wisdom through me. We must open our Wal*Marts on Mars. It is our mission. It is our destiny. My tail is tired from swishing Tribbles off my hindquarters and I must rest as my crew debates what we should do about all this whilst I eavesdrop....
The flushing toilet sounded in the background as the ships first officer emerged from the ship's uni-sex john waving a communication memo from Starfleet Command.

"Whoa! Security, place bio-hard notices in this area on this level for the next thrity minutes."

"Aye-Aye, Sir. The Captain wishes to see you in his quarters. It's about the tribbles."

"I see. I thought it may be about all the money he lost by investing."

"In Wal-Mart's preferred stock?"

"No, Preferred Blondes," the first officer replied taking a hurried step toward the Captain's quarters.


Dr. Mozart was reading an article about Earth Walmart: "WALMART OPENS AT TEOTIHUACAN
A WalMart mega-store opened on Thursday less than a mile
from Mexico's most treasured historic site - the pyramids
at Teotihuacan. Despite protests by community groups,
academics, preservationists and local merchants, WalMart
opened a Bodega Aurrera within shouting distance of the
historic religious treasure."

The doctor thought that was a wonderful idea! I will have to tell the crew about this one! We need to find some pyramids on Mars to build near. Oh heck, the figure of Elvis in the rock will do for a nice Walmart site. Maybe we could sell some of those tribbles to the tourists...
****

But suddenly, that strange noise came back. It reminded Dr Mozart of a cat on fire. Nonplussed, he jumped up and saw a figure running past him window.

He couldn't believe his eyes. The figure that ran past looked just like Ralph Nader! But how could that be?!? Wasn't he busy on earth running for president?! How could he be up here on Mars with Starship C.H.I.P.S?

Dr. Mozart remembered earlier that year President Bush had declared the first "manned" spaceship to Mars would depart in January 2015 - which was why C.H.I.P.S. was here in the first place - to beat the humans to Mars and have the first (of many) Wal Marts open for business. So what was Nader doing here eleven years early, BEFORE the bovines?? Was it an last ditch election ploy to beat Bush to Mars and try to sweep the Presidency? But wait, the election was over, and a garbled communication that came through days earlier that seemed to suggest Bush's narrow victory over John Kerry for president - so that couldn't be it. Why would Nader be on Mars, NOW?

Before he could ponder any further, Nader dashed by the window again, only this time he wasn't alone. He was being chased by ...
A large pink flamingo. But the USS WalMart had other problems.

Meanwhile, in the pancreas of the store (because the engineering team won't go near the bowels right now), an engineering team has been dispatched to get the tribbles out of the conduit. It seems some body told them silicon chips were potato chips and now there are a bunch of fat tribbles sitting on couches watching reruns of Ally McBeal on TV.

The chief engineer was distraught. Not because of the Tribbles in the conduit, they were more a nuisance than anything else. It was because he'd sent three teams in to evict the tribbles, and they all had to report to medical. What kind of officer couldn't come out ahead in a fistfight with a tribble?!?!?!

"Dr. MooCoy to Chief Engineer, come in please!"

"Aye, MooCoy, Cowlin here."

"Chief, what the devil's going on with your engineering team? Their all coming in here with the sneezes, runny nostrils and red eyes. Looks like a damn pet allergy epidemic. Whatever you've been sending them to do, you've got to quit it, man! Every available space in sick bay is taken up by an engineering officer. Looks like a dairy farm in here, but no one would want to drink what's in these pails!"

"Ay, and I kenna help it, Doctor. We've got to get those tribbles out of that conduit. They're just getting fatter and more numerous, eating the silicon chips."

"Well, I don't care what you have to do, Cowlin. Tell them they're are chocolate chips in the ships manure decomposition and energy storage chambers or something."

"Now listen here, MooCoy, you old hornblower! I don' tell you how to go aboot your job....Oh, but wait a minute, wait a minute. Aye, AYE! It just might work!





A Non-Existent User
And so they continue to problem solve and trouble shoot in a galaxy far far away.

Captain's log 0600 hours. It is so long ago and far away that I lost my train of thought.

Until next time, the moo be with you.

Love,
Captain Hooves

The End!

© Copyright 2004 xx-xx, Chuckster, NightMaryann, Pita, Sophyween, The Milkman, Bovine Bessie, Colin Back on the Ghost Roads, xx-xx, Mommy4Life, HawaiianPeach, Lexi, Octobers Lie, W.D.Wilcox, xx-xx, Horsewoman, KD Miller, Dottie, Joan, (known as GROUP).
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