After finishing the last of Rog’s snoot . . .

John: Amsec?

Rog: Yea. Correction. Frailing yeah.

John: (fills two glasses)

Rog: (lifts and twirls glass)

John: (takes a sip)

Rog: (slams back the glass—immediately starts coughing)

John: (starts laughing)

Rog: (eyes and face turn red—clears thoat)

John: (laughs more)

Rog: Damn.

John: More?

Rog: Does a pampus stink?

John: What?

Rog: Never mind. Just pour.

John: You know—

Rog: Hey!

John: What?

Rog: Captain, request permission to speak freely.

John: Granted, high-near-Eee-Inn.

Rog: Just frailing pour. That’s your job.

John: (tries to keep from busting out laughing)

Rog: (tries even harder to keep a straight face)

John: Frail me.

Rog: (holds up full glass to the light) Where did you get this shiott?

John: Sir, permission to speak freely?

Rog: Speak your mind captain. (Rog’s cheeks quiver as he tried to hold back a grin)

John: Just drink. That is your frailing job. If I want someone ordering me around, I’ll comm. Cait.

Rog: Damn straight.

John: (sits and stares while taking another sip)

Rog: Hey!

John: What?

Rog: Let’s do it.

John: Do what?

Rog: Call Cait.

John: (sprays out his amsec with a cough) Call her what?!

Rog: How bout (Rog hesitates) heartless betoch?

John: Why?

Rog: I dunno.

John: (thinks for a second) Okay.

Rog: Okay what?

John: Okay, that idea sucks.

Rog: You got a better one?

John: Yeah, fill my glass.

Rog: (pours both glasses full)

John: Toast.

Rog: (lifts glass)

John: To, to—

Rog: To the Royal Society of Idiots.

John: (deadpans then clicks Rog’s glass)

Rog: How does it feel?

John: How does what feel?

Rog: Being a charter member of the RSI? (can’t control a grin)

John: Just like I’m back home. You know what?

Rog: What?

John: I think I’ve been a member for a long time.

Rog: (raucous laughter)

John: (spills drink laughing)

Rog: Hey!

John: Shut, how do you say it, the frail up!

Rog: Ooooh, not bad.

John: (pours another for both) You know what?

Rog: What?

John: You can serve at my side anytime?

Rog: Oh Disco, I can call you that now right? If only I had known (winks)

John: Well, you do look kinda cute. (blows kiss)

Rog: Frail you.

John: Not so fast, I’m not that easy (take a sip) yet.

Rog: (lowers his voice) You know what?

John: What?

Rog: I would proudly serve at your side.

John: No shioot?

Rog: (rolls on the floor laughing uncontrollably)

John: Whaaaat?

Rog: It’s shiott.

John: What is?

Rog: No shiott.

John: Yeah?

Rog: The phase is “No Shiott” not no Shioot.

John: Not in the Royal Society of Idiots it is not!

Rog: Damn.

John: What?

Rog: I think you just graduated.

John: You know what?

Rog: What?

John: We are going to frailing find them.

Rog: (stands up) Lift your glass.

John: (he does)

Rog: You bet your frailing scrawny arse we are.

John: (looks around at his arse)

Rog: Don’t worry.

John: What?

Rog: I’ve got enough to cover that bet.

John: No shiott.

Rog: (smiles) Yeah, no shiott. (grins his best Rogesque grin)

Categories: Story, Rog, John Discovery

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