Zeke woke up strapped to a table in a plain white room. He had been dreaming about pole vaulting or something like that, but it was escaping his mind rapidly. He blinked his eyes and smacked his lips a few times before he tried to sit up. That was when he first noticed his constraints.
"What the hell? Why am I tied down?" He turned his head from side to side but failed to notice much in the way of obvious features to the room. Aside, of course, from the goat that stood a few feet away staring at him nonchalantly.
He couldn't recall being tied down or walking into any sort of plain white rooms in the first place. And he certainly didn't remember hanging out with any goats. For that matter he couldn't recall much of anything that had occurred lately except for faint memories of the pole vaulting dream. This was all very strange.
"Hello?" he called out. "Is anyone else here?"
The goat let out the sort of sound goats make when they're bored, but otherwise there was no response.
He struggled against the straps that held him into place, but they seemed to be made of some sort of inflexible plastic material. Eventually he gave up and let his head collapse back on the table. He was out of breath, out of ideas, and apparently out of luck.
He had no idea how long he'd been lying there when he heard a strange whooshing sound off to his left. He rolled his head off to the side and saw an entranceway suddenly appear in what had previously been a solid wall. A little green bug-eyed man wearing a blue skin-tight jumpsuit with an upside-down gold triangle on the chest walked into the room pushing a mop and humming a little tune to himself.
"Hello?" Zeke called out uncertainly.
The little man stopped in his tracks, looked over both of his shoulders questioningly, and then finally resumed mopping the floor and humming.
"Hey! You!" Zeke shouted again. "Over here! Can you hear me?"
The little man froze again, looked around with a puzzled look on his face, and then shrugged his shoulders. He bent over the mop and went back to work.
"Can you even understand me?" Zeke asked.
The little man dropped his mop, got a weird look in his eye and walked over to the goat. "Sorry, did you say something?"
"Not him!" Zeke shouted exasperatedly. "Me! On the table!"
The little man turned his head slowly and a look of vague recognition spread across his face as if he were noticing the table for the first time. "Oh. Hello there. You'll have to forgive me. I can't hear as well as I used to. Bit of an accident involving an exploding Jacuzzi. Can I help you?"
"Yeah. Why am I strapped to this table?"
"Well obviously because somebody tied you down there," the little man said and started to turn back to his mop.
"Wait! Who tied me down?"
"Gee, I don't really know," the little man shrugged. "Whoever's job it is to do that sort of thing, I guess."
"Wait! Who are you? For that matter, where the hell am I?"
"I'm Wigglethorp. Former Commander-in-Chief of this expedition. Now I mop the floors. To answer your other question, you're on the premiere star cruiser in the scientific exploration wing of His Royal Majesty's fleet. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some mopping to attend to."
"Come on, don't leave me here!" Zeke groaned. "At least undo my straps!"
"Sorry, son. I don't know how to work those new-fangled straps they're using these days. And even if I did, I'm not authorized to touch any of the exhibits. No, I'm afraid if you want to undo those straps you're going to have to petition the captain."
"How do I do that?"
"Oh, that's easy. You just fill out an official petition form, walk up to the bridge, and hand it over to the captain personally."
"I can't exactly walk to the bridge when I'm tied to this table," Zeke pointed out.
"That is a problem," Wigglethorp conceded. "I guess you're out of luck."
"Wait, couldn't you deliver a petition for me?" Zeke pleaded.
"I'm afraid not. The policy clearly states that the individual doing the petitioning must deliver it himself. I suppose you could petition for a change in the petitioning policy."
"How would I go about doing that?" Zeke asked.
"Well, you'd have to fill out an official petition form, walk up to the bridge, and hand it over to the captain personally."
"This is going nowhere fast," Zeke sighed. "Okay, so you can't deliver a petition for me, but what if you filled out a petition on your own behalf to change the policy?"
"Why would I do that?" Wigglethorp scratched his head. "I don't have any problems with the policy as it stands."
"Couldn't you do it as a favor to me?" Zeke asked.
"But that would be against the policy," Wigglethorp shook his head vigorously.
Zeke let out a long sigh. "Look. What if I could convince you that I would make it worth your while to petition for my release? That way, you'd really be petitioning for the chance to gain a reward on your own behalf. My release would be an incidental byproduct to your request."
"What could you do that would be worth my while?" Wigglethorp asked.
"I don't know. I could mop the floor for you."
"But I like mopping the floor," Wigglethorp said.
"Fine. What don't you like?"
"I don't care for scrubbing toilets so much."
Zeke crinkled his nose disgustedly for a second. "All right, fine! I'll scrub the toilets for you. So will you petition the captain?"
"Let me get this straight. I petition the captain for your release on the grounds that I don't want to scrub the toilets?"
"Yes. Exactly. That way you're making the petition on your behalf, not mine."
"All right," Wigglethorp nodded amicably. "I'll do it. But first let me finish mopping."
"How long is that going to take?" Zeke groaned.
"Well, it's a pretty big spaceship. I've got a lot more rooms to mop. I would estimate about three weeks if I hurry."
"Three weeks?" Zeke repeated in disbelief. "Aw, man! Do you really have to finish mopping first?"
"It is my job. I get in trouble when I take breaks before I'm finished."
Zeke mumbled to himself in disgust for a moment. "Wait! I have an idea! Have you mopped the bridge yet?"
"No," Wigglethorp said.
"Why don't you go mop it right now and then you can deliver your petition while you're there?"
"Hmm. I'm not sure if I'm comfortable mopping rooms out of order. It's highly unorthodox. Still, I suppose I could just this once. I really do hate scrubbing toilets. The first mate has a bad habit of not flushing."
"You're a lifesaver, man," Zeke sighed. "I really do appreciate it."
"You might not when you see the toilets. There are four hundred and ninety-two thousand of them on this ship and most of them haven't been cleaned in several light years. They get pretty nasty during that time."
"I'll worry about that later. In the meantime would you please file the petition?"
"Very well. I'm on my way." Wigglethorp walked out the door and it sealed shut with the customary whoosh.
Zeke settled back on the table and waited for something to happen.
"Bah," said the goat and proceeded to lick its rear end.