By Rev. Richard Parsons
Dudeists at the Final Frontier – Proof(ish), that Dudeism has not only a long history, but a long future.
Humble fellow Dudeist Priest, Rev. Richard W Parsons, of the Laconic Dudeist Archive and Research Section (LDARS), has added another entry in the Register of Probable Dudeists, after getting privy to all the new shit over at the archives on Memory Alpha (which is like, in space, man).
(Reverend) Cyrano Day Jones, calmer than you are.
Intention and circumstance
In the uptight days of the United Federation of Planets and the intense voyages of Captain James Tiberius Kirk and the Starship Enterprise, Cyrano Day Jones is an intergalactic trader. He tools about between systems in his one man spaceship, obtaining a marginal living by the buying and selling of rare merchandise, including Antarean Glow Water (water that glows in a fairly comprehensively pointless fashion), Spican Flame Gems (ditto glowing, but crystals, with delusions of really holding the room together), and Tribbles (otherwise pointless furry creatures that coo pleasantly, and tend to eat the room all together if given the chance – think fat, legless marmots, really). Despite his most earnest efforts, he is entangled in a lotta galactic intrigue, lotta ins, lotta outs, lotta strands to keep in old Jones’ head, where certain information – certain things – come to light, but it’s pretty much the prescribed episode length before even he was privy to all the new, well, you know.
In 2268, Jones is aboard Federation Deep Space Station K-7, in his many pocketed dressing gown, having arrived aboard his remarkably unremarkable ship, the Spacematic, during what became known as the Klingon plot to control Sherman’s Planet.
A humble man, of few pretensions himself, he is happiest with a free beverage in hand, and the imminent prospect of a free money kind of deal. Contrary to his plans, such as he had any of any magnitude, he is responsible for the station’s infestation with Tribbles, for which he is sentenced by a real reactionary to either clean up himself or serve a twenty-year prison term.
Through guile and culpable administrative disinterest, he escapes his sentence and makes off to a Klingon planet (which Klingons, incidentally, hate Tribbles with some enthusiasm) where he illegally sells a number of Tribbles (which Tribbles, unsurprisingly, hate Klingons with equal enthusiasm). After all, Jones, he had to feed the monkey, man.
A truly ingenious plan, if anyone understood it correctly.
To the unbridled astonishment of no-one but Jones, the deal went perfectly badly.
Escaping the planet with a genetically-engineered Klingon Tribble predator, which he (quite possibly legally) claims under space salvage laws, he is pursued by a Klingon battlecruiser commanded by another real reactionary, on the basis of some shit about having caused ecological sabotage to the planet. I mean, man.
Tribbles – really eat the room together
Captain Kirk, the first mentioned reactionary above, rescues Jones and a number of Tribbles from his ship moments before angry Klingons cut off its Johnson, and lodge it against an abutment. Reactionary Number 1 immediately arrests Jones for breaking the law in relation to transporting lifeforms, as well as for violations of three Federation and forty-seven local mandates.
Jones, however, very reasonably and in measured tones, points out that they are in fact safe Tribbles that had been genetically engineered for sterility. Sadly, even in the future, reactionaries do not listen to Dudeists.The Klingon reactionary, demands Kirk turn over Jones and the predatory Tribble, so that they can use the engineered Tribble to rid the Klingon planet of the Tribbles Jones had sold it, before it becomes completely overrun, all the while yelling something largely incomprehensible about strangers and asses. The reactionaries sort themselves out, and Jones is turned over to local authorities.
That said, there is little doubt he would be released sooner or later, and go back to his placid life, once said local authorities see that he is mostly harmless and get daunted by his deep reserves of dude…
Beyond the simplicity and purity of Jones’ intentions, the complexity and impurity of Jones’ circumstances, and his non-kempt dudely style, there is much in Jones’ manner and expression that reveals his true Dudeistness.
Manner and expression
When confronted by a reactionary and his friend
(a friend possibly, sadly, with a cleft asshole):
Jones (while being restrained):
Captain Kirk, I’m mystified! Mystified at your tone of voice! I’ve done nothing to warrant such severe treatment.
Surely you must have realized what would happen if you removed the Tribbles from their predator-filled environment into an environment where their natural multiplicative proclivities would have no restraining factors.
Of cour — What did you say?
By removing the Tribbles from their natural habitat, you have removed the cork from the bottle and allowed the genie to escape.
If by that, you mean do they breed quickly?
Of course! That’s how I maintain my stock.
But breeding animals is not against regulations, only breeding dangerous ones.
And Tribbles are not dangerous.
Reactionary (idly inspecting Tribble)
You should sell an instruction manual with this.
If I did, what would happen to man’s search for knowledge!?
Well… I must be tending my ship. Au revoir!
[Exeunt, with flourish]
Reactionary (relieved that all will be well):
You know, I think I could learn to like Tribbles.
Well, Captain, I suppose I’m free to go now!
No, you’re not. There’s something I want to show you…
[station over-run with Tribbles]
You know what the penalty is or transporting an animal harmful to human life?
Captain, one little Tribble isn’t harmful…
Captain! You wouldn’t do a thing like that to me…
Would you? Would you!!?
The penalty is 20 years in a rehabilitation colony.
Captain Kirk — FRIEND! Friend Kirk! Surely we can come to some sort of mutual understanding.
After all, my Tribbles did put you wise to the poisoned grain, and they did help you to find the Klingon agent.
Saved a lot of lives that way.
There’s one thing you can do.
Jones (hopeful): "Yes?
Pick up every Tribble on the space station.
If you do that, I’ll speak to Mr. Lurry about returning your spaceship.
But that would take years!
17.9 to be exact.
Jones (in wonderment):
17… point nine… years?
Consider it job security.
Captain, you’re a hard man!
[Starts to be led away to prison]
(Reverend) Cyrano Day Jones (left) abides, in dudely non-kempt style
All right! All right!!!
You’ll do it?
Reactionary’s friend:He’ll do it.
I’ll do it.