The Ninth Configuration Page #3

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Lieutinant Fromme won't surrender my pants?

- You don't want me to rip them off!

- No.

You bet your ass it will wrinkle your pants.

Here you go.

Case histories on the men.

I've been through them all,

and have learnt nothing.

I think this boar was a diabetic.

May I come in?

- Oh, heck.

- Thats yours.

So thats your couch...

Why don't you make it better nailed..

so that we can all see the blood pouring out?

- Cutshaw, the astronaut.

- I would say yes.

God of mine...

You are the new boy, huh?

I'm Colonel Hudson Kane.

- Do I call you Hud?

- Try calling him Colonel.

Are you the one that makes the chicken?

Coronel Kane's a psychiatrist.

Sure...

And they told me you were a doctor.

This man treats crocodiles for acne!

Why make my point?

Pack up and leave, Hud.

You're on the way out.

I'm acting on orders, so to inform.

Who ordered you, Cutshaw?

Unseen forces far too numerous to enumerate.

Check the file;

Its all in the file...

Here it is.

Now read it, Hud.

Read it out loud.Its my therapy

Why don't we-

Read it! Or I will go crazy, dammit!

I swear it!

And you will be responsible.

Alright, Cutshaw.

Please sit down.

I think the end of the world just came...

... for the bag of Fritos in my pocket.

Would you please tell Fromme I'd like my pants?

Consider the lilies of the field.

I'm waiting...

Two days prior to a scheduled space shot,

subject officer, while dining on the base,

was observed to pick up a plastic ketchup bottle...

squeeze a thin red line across his throat,

and then to stagger and fall

very heavily across the table...

...then being occupied by the director

of the National Space Administration,

gurgling...

"Don't-order-the-swordfish"

You're looking at my medal, Hud.

Stop looking at my medal.

- No, I'm not...

- Yes, you were.

You covet it!

On the following morning...

- Isn't it beautiful?

- Yes, it's...

Son of a b*tch! I knew it.

You were looking at it.

- Sorry.

- Sorry? What good is 'sorry'?

I'm a nervous wreck.

Christ, how can I sleep now?

waiting for a covetous kleptomaniacal

colonel...

.. to come creeping around to my bedside...

... to rip away my medal!

If I were to do that, you might awaken.

Like hell I'll awake.

Powerful drugs could be

insinuated into my soup.

The following morning...

Covety is a sin.

The following morning at 0500...

Subject officer entered the space craft,

and upon recieving instruction from

Control to begin his countdown...

... he was heard instead to say:

"I am frankly sick of being used"

Sometime later,

subject officer plainly stated that:

"Going the moon was naughty, impolite...

... uncouth, and in any case...

... bad for his skin"

- What's the matter? You think that's funny?

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