Transmission: [Encrypted]
Originator: Invader Stick
PAK Code: 061<scrambled>42
Subject: Interview with a Food Service Drone
To those Irkens Worthy Enough to Receive this Transmission:
I, Invader Stick, have recently had the “pleasure” of interacting with those members of our Society who are referred to as “Food Service Drones.” Due to a variety of factors that make them not awesome enough to be a distinguished member of the “Invader” class of Irkens, their PAKs have been encoded so as to assign them the honor of serving those of us who are actually worth something in life. Their days are long, greasy, and full of smelly smells that make the squeedly spooch quiver in an unnatural manner, yet their services provide nourishment to the glorious Armada to ensure that the Irken Military does not conquer the universe on an empty stomach.
In this transmission, I will present to you an interview with one of these Food Serve Service Drones so that some light can be shed on their pitiful yet essential existence. Also, I stabbed one in the eye with a spork because he messed up my order, and so this interview was also conducted as part of my “anger management therapy.”
The interview can be found below:
Invader Stick: Hello, Food Service Drone. Do you have anything to say before we formally start this interview?
Food Service Drone: I lost an eye because of you!
Invader Stick: You’ve still got another one, stop complaining! Now, the first question I have is…
Food Service Drone: My eye!
Invader Stick: SILENCE! Now, first question: Where do you conduct your daily Food Service duties?
Food Service Drone: I work at Shloogorgh’s Flavor Monster on Planet Foodcourtia. We were voted the #1 restaurant to dine at during the last Great Foodening!
Invader Stick: That sounds very interesting.
Food Service Drone: You don’t look very interested.
Invader Stick: That’s because I was lying. Next question: Why are you so horrible at your job?
Food Service Drone: I’m horrible at MY job? What’s an “Invader” doing writing transmissions, anyway? I doubt you’ve even conquered a single planet!
Invader Stick: I’ll have you know that I single-handedly conquered Planet Forgon in less than three hours. THREE HOURS! I am the greatest Invader OF ALL TIME!
Food Service Drone: “Planet Forgon?” I’ve never even heard of tha…
Invader Stick: I will be asking the questions here!
Food Service Drone: That wasn’t really a question, though.
Invader Stick: I SAID I WILL ASK THE QUESTIONS! Now, next question: What does a typical day in the life of a Food Service Slave entail?
Food Service Drone: That’s “Drone,” not, “Slave.”
Invader Stick: I fail to see a difference.
Food Service Drone: I get paid for my job! Slaves don’t get paid.
Invader Stick: That’s what they WANT you to think.
Food Service Drone: That doesn’t make any…oh, forget it. Anyway, my shift starts a couple of hours before the lunch rush, so once I report to work I start chopping and preparing the meat to be thrown into the fryer. That usually takes an hour, and then once that’s done I throw everything into the fryer and let the grease cook it for about 10 to 15 minutes. Then I take it out, and repeat the process a few more times before I finally move to the register to deal with the customers.
Invader Stick: What a sickening existence. How have you not bludgeoned yourself to death yet?
Food Service Drone: You know, some people actually ENJOY doing this kind of stuff.
Invader Stick: They must be borderline Defective, then. Moving on to the next question: What miserable and pathetic qualities do you possess that make you uniquely suited for this lowly existence of making barely edible foodstuffs?
Food Service Drone: Well, as you know, every Irken Smeet is attached to a PAK upon its creation. This PAK is then encoded to perform the task that the Irken is deemed most suitable for. Because of my love of food and enhanced sense of smell, I was encoded with the position of “Food Service Drone.”
Invader Stick: “Love of food and sense of smell?” No, I’m pretty sure you were forced into this sub-par position because you are tiny, fragile, and lack any sort of intelligence whatsoever.
Food Service Drone: Hey, you have to be really smart to do my job!
Invader Stick: Then WHY did you mess up my order?
Food Service Drone: I didn’t! You ordered extra crispy, I gave you extra crispy!
Invader Stick: I did no such thing!
Food Service Drone: It’s on your receipt!
Invader Stick: YOU LIE!
Food Service Drone: I have a copy right here, see?
Invader Stick: I will not look at your lying paper of filth and lies!
Food Service Drone: That’s because you know you’re wrong.
Invader Stick: You dare to question me?! THAT’S IT! Where’s my spork?!
Food Service Drone: Hey! Get away from……seriously! That really hur……AH! THE PAIN! THE P……WHY AM I BURNING?! I CAN’T SEE ANYTHI…….
Invader Stick: FEEL MY WRATH, YOU INSOLENT, PATHETIC GREASE WORM! BOW BEFORE THE MIGHTY INVADER STICK AND BEG FOR MER…
[Transmission Lost. Encrypted Transmission Ended]
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