Screw the Universe by Stephen Schwegler, Eirik Gumeny

What with that restraining order and all. I’d have to touch you to remove the chair. I’ve learned my lesson.”
     
    “You could at least get out of it!”
     
    “I don’t see why I would do that.”
     
    “To save… my…”
     
    Private Naughtyplaces died as she lived, evacuating her bowels in an inappropriate location.
     
    “Problem solved,” said the captain.
     
    Space Marshal Orr lowered his head. His plan was somewhat of a success, but more of a colossal failure.
     
    “Where’s the rest of your crew?”
     
    Captain Tyler stood up and said, “They’re off helping the others. Thankfully a lot of unimportant people that we hardly ever talk about were the majority of the victims. Feces was badly injured, but I suspect him to make an almost 40% recovery.”
     
    “I see,” said a solemn space marshal.
     
    “Hey! It’s not all bad.”
     
    “Oh?”
     
    “Yeah. I got to call Private Beef’s parents to inform them that their son had died. Rekindled a little romantic something something there.”
     
    “Are you sure it was romantic?”
     
    “She kept using the f-word, so yeah. What else could it have meant?”
     
    Someone behind Marshal Orr said something to him. Marshal Orr seemed to light up at whatever the news was. Then he quickly asked Captain Tyler:
     
    “How many explosions did you say there were?”
     
    “By explosions, do you mean ejaculations?”
     
    “No, I mean explosions. I’m talking about the attack on the Zdravo again.”
     
    “Oh, right,” said the captain. “Duknerts!”
     
    “Yes, captain?” said First Lieutenant Duknerts, hopping on one leg, the other one bleeding horribly.
     
    “How many explosions were reported?”
     

     
    “Thirty-seven.”
     
    “Thirty-seven, sir,” said the captain to the marshal.
     
    “Right, yes,” mumbled Space Marshal Orr, reading over a piece of paper that the same someone had handed to him. “Was anyone maimed by a toaster?”
     
    “Duknerts,” said the captain, “was anyone –”
     
    “No,” said Duknerts, “not that we’re aware of.”
     
    “No toasters, Mar—” began Tyler.
     
    “Yeah, I heard,” said Orr. “Captain Tyler, I order you to inspect every toaster on the Zdravo. We have, uh, ‘reason to believe’ there’s one more bomb on board. In a toaster.”
     
    “Interesting,” said Captain Tyler. “Duknerts! Go and inspect the toasters!”
     
    “Can’t someone with two working legs do it?” said the first lieutenant.
     
    “No!” shouted the marshal. “I mean, yes. Wait... What I’m saying is, Captain Tyler, I order you and you alone to inspect all the toasters.”
     
    “I’m on it!”
     
    Captain Tyler sprinted from the bridge. First Lieutenant Duknerts limped after him. Everyone else on the bridge was dead.
     
    “Excellent,” said Marshal Orr, surveying the massacre from the View-Matic 7000.
     
    Private Naughtyplaces, laying beneath the captain’s chair, spasmed, vomited violently and came back to life.
     
    “Holy shit,” said the space marshal. “You can’t... You shouldn’t be...”
     
    “Blow it out your ass, Orr,” replied Naughtyplaces. “The only things that exploded were the Federation-issued items we picked up at headquarters. I figured out your plan.”
     
    “Oh, well, uh...”
     
    “I want in.”
     
    “Oh, thank God.”
     
    “I didn’t even want to be on this stupid spaceship in the first place. I can’t believe getting paintballs slingshot at your genitals was an acceptable way of determining assignments.”
     
    “You’re only saying that because the paint stains are permanent.”
     
    “My vagina should not be green!”
     
    “Have you tried shaving –”
     
    “Yes! We all have! It’s like a preschool up in here! I feel dirty every time I walk into the locker room.”
     
    “How do you know what a –”
     
    “I don’t... I don’t want to talk about it.”
     
    “I don’t think I want to know about it.”
     
    “How did Tyler get