Niples "TLC/THC pills"

Who: Ambassador Seymour Niples
Where: Ambassadorial quarters
When: morning
Seymour frantically searched around his quarters for some more food.
The "TLC" pills that the PsychoSociologist Wannie Th'Sane has given
him were doing wonders. He wasn't thinking at all about his
personality disorder, he hadn't had a single desire to drink stella
and wear burberry OR drink port and quote the advantages of a
monarchy for quite some time now. The reason for this is that he was
preoccupied with the hunt for food, the pills had made him
surprisingly hungry.
He hadn't bothered to shave today or to even get dressed. These
tasks were too complicated, and were secondary to finding food. His
Marks & Spencers food delivery wasn't until Friday, so instead he
made a trap for capturing small juicy animals and hid under the
table. He hadn't felt right since meeting Dr Th'Sane the day before,
whether this was attributed to the pills or to merely being in the
presence of the PsychoSociologist, Seymour didn't know, and frankly
didn't care as his mind was in such a confused state it had focussed
on such a small and meaningless task for a rest.
Seymour giggled to himself madly.
He intently watched the rabbit trap… just in case any kind of rabbit
were to cross the floor of his quarters. Had he done scans, he would
know that there wasn't a rabbit for at least 60 parsecs in any
direction of the Blue Dwarf. But he had set the trap… you know… just
in case.
He giggled again and scratched his ear with his foot.
Seymour, the Royal Ambassador to the honourable* Queen of England
and self-proclaimed poshest person on the Blue Dwarf sat under his
table wearing his pyjamas. At least if he didn't catch a rabbit he
could catch that polka-dotted emperor penguin that he was certain
was spying on him.
He took his eyes off the rabbit trap to look for the penguin, if it
was deemed that the penguin wasn't actually a figment of his
delusion he could eat that. When he looked back at the trap he
jumped up with delight to see that he had caught a wooden chair,
which he promptly put in the oven at 220°C for his lunch.
He attempted to get dressed, but ended up only putting a tie around
his neck then walked out of his quarters still wearing his pyjamas.
As he descended a deck he found a new construction going on in the
corridor. Engineers Mark McJohn, Karl Topping, Elian Sandoval and
Python were working in one of the small outward facing storage
rooms.
Delusional Seymour was drawn to the lights of their engineering
welding torches and waved directly in their faces. They looked at
him blankly.
"What? Do you not salute your Royal Ambassador?!" Seymour said,
sounding pished.
"Well even if I knew how to do that exactly I still wouldn't," Said
Python. "We have a lot of work to do if you don't mind."
"What are you doing?" Asked Seymour, touching everything and trying
to attach a 1/4 spanner to his forehead while staggering around.
"We're installing another cannon turret." Said McJohn, snatching the
spanner back from the delusional Seymour. "We're jumping directly
into Hymenoptera territory within the hour so we need to get this
operational as soon as possible."
"Really?"
"Yes, so please let us get on with it!" Said Karl Topping.
"Can I help?" Offered Seymour. "Like to perhaps test firing it?" He
grinned like Efof when you gave him something shiny to play with.
"Not unless you want to get into a spacesuit, float around outside
and let us test its accuracy?" quipped Karl. McJohn gave him a quick
jab in the ribs and Karl went back to work.
Seymour pulled out his lip sadly and sulked off. The pills had made
him 400% more emotional than normal. He now felt sadness and self-
pity.
Seymour took a deep breath and his eyes started to water. "They
don't want to be my friiiiiends." He moaned.
It was at this precise moment that Chris Harris walked out of an
express elevator. He saw Seymour in his pyjamas and looked confused.
Seymour in his emotional state noticed the familiar face and within
seconds had held out his arms to hug Chris and tightly embrace him.
Seymour started to sob on his shoulder.
Chris stared wide eyed dead ahead. In the next few minutes of
Seymour tightly clinging to him, many thoughts had formed in his
brain. These were:
Shit.
Holy shit.
Shit, there's a grown man hugging me.
Shit, Seymour is hugging me.
Shit, Seymour is hugging me AND crying like a baby
Shit, what the hell is wrong with Seymour?
Shit, is Seymour on drugs?
Shit, do I have to do something to console him?
Shit, what if somebody sees me, they might think I'm gay!
Shit, is Seymour gay?
Shit, does this make me gay?
Chris Harris squirmed and considered taking Seymour to the
Psychiatric deptartment.
<Tag Chris maybe?>
*This is debatable as Queen Brittany did pose for those nude
pictures in FHM…