It was a day like any other day at the SEMY Complex. Walkerton was at his desk eating Doritos. Big Boss was at his desk trying to figure out why everyone always gave him coffee mugs for his birthday. Dave Rease and Mike Warner didn't have desks, but they were arguing over the quality of the SEMY Cafeteria food (Clam Chowder was being served. The recipe is outlawed in six states.). Jason Patterson, also without a desk, was scrubbing the metal on the underside of his bunker. Sal, Walkerton's twin sister separated at birth, was attempting to build a bungee cord so she could jump off the main SEMY building in the center of the complex.

The first sign of non-normalness took place at exactly eleven in the morning. Miss Eables, Big Boss's receptionist and secretary, appeared at the door. Miss Eables was a cross between Atilla the Hun, most prison guards, and those stereotypical females from the comic strip "The Far Side."

"A brief for you, sir," Miss Eables said with a voice like concrete. After adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses with her steel black fake fingernails, she added, "It's from the Pentagon." She set the paper-filled folder on Big Boss's desk with the subtlety of a brick thrown upside one's head, and thundered out quietly. Big Boss set down his American Heart Association coffee mug and picked up the folder from the corner of his brown desk.

Walkerton, still back in his office, was just about to open another bag of Doritos when Miss Eables addressed him over the intercom. "Pilot Walkerton, Big Boss would like to see you in his office." Walkerton frowned. It seemed that he was always interrupted whenever he was eating Doritos. On the other hand, it was probably because he was always eating Doritos. Still, Walkerton didn't like stopping halfway through a meal.

He needed a way out of going to Big Boss's office. He replied, "Aw, Miss Eables, do I have to?"

"Yes, Mr. Walkerton," the receptionist said coldly.

Walkerton stalled. He fit another fistfull of Doritos into his mouth. "Do I really, really have to?"

"YES," Miss Eables boomed.

"It wouldn't happen to be imperitive, would it?"

You could hear Miss Eables' teeth grinding over the intercom. Walkerton smartly decided to adhere to Big Boss's wishes and go to his office. Miss Eables didn't say thank you as he left the room.

Walkerton appeared at the door of Big Boss's office, along with a few other SEMY squadron leaders. He noticed that the other officers were forming a semicircle around Big Boss.

Walkerton wanted to be different and sat on the floor directly in front of his superior's desk. Big Boss leaned over the edge of his coffee mug-covered desk and found Walkerton spread across the carpet, looking up back at him emptily. "What are you doing down there?" Big Boss finally asked.

"Sitting, sir. What does it look like I'm doing?" Walkerton asked with absolute respect.

Big Boss sighed. "Why, may I ask?"

Walkerton thought for a minute. This was a toughie. The pilot jerked his head up suddenly and responded with an innocent grin, "I'm trying to see if I can see your brain through your nostrils." Big Boss's face dropped. "But those green crusties are in the way..."

And Big Boss slumped back in his chair. He decided to take a more direct approach with Walkerton. With a deep, commanding military voice, he ordered, "Fall back, soldier!"

And Walkerton did. Right on his head. Big Boss gripped his face tightly with his fingers and winced. "I meant, 'fall back' into the semicircle, Walkerton."

Walkerton was clutching his temple as he sat up. Things started to get wavey, but Walkerton ignored it like usual. The pilot stood up awkwardly, and smiled dizzily. "Are we doing one of those teamwork exercises, sir?"

Before Big Boss could explain simple infantry termology, Walkerton had joined the group and began his little "exercise." Talking to one of the other squadron leaders, who was trying to stand at attention like all the other good pilots, Walkerton started, "Okay, Mr. Greenway, sir. This is a teamwork workshop. What Big Boss wants us to do is learn trust. You stand here, see?"

Walkerton positioned poor Pilot Greenway a few feet back. "And I'll stand in front of you, see?" Walkerton stood in front, facing away from the other pilot. "And when I fall back, you catch me!" And Pilot Greenway, standing perfectly at attention, didn't.

After hitting his head a second time, Walkerton started babbling inconsistently and asking for Arthur Dent.

Walkerton woke up in his room, surrounded by the members of his squadron.

"I think he's coming to," Dave smiled.

"Rats," Mike frowned.

"He sure has a mess in here," Jason said as he ignored Walkerton and looked around the comatose pilot's unkempt room. Walkerton sat up and felt his noggin. He was sitting on his unmade bed.

"See if I ever trust that guy again! Some teamwork."

"After the medics brought you here, they sent Sal to attend the briefing in your place," Dave informed. "They found her on top of the main building, with some sort of cord."

Walkerton started to regain his senses, and hopped off his bed. "Oh, she was bungee jumping."

"Whatever,"

Mike Warner snarled. "She's gonna bust her brains out one of these days. Then we'll see if anyone cares." Mike always said terrible things about people. He'd done it for so long, anything he said was usually ignored.

"Well, anyway," Dave continued, "She's due back from the meeting any minute. Word around the complex is that it's very bad news."

"It usually is," Mike added.

Jason stepped into the conversation, or, rather, he interrupted it. "Walkerton, this place is a junkyard!" the neatfreak soldier scolded as he held up a decomposing sock from under Walkerton's unmade bed. "I bet this sock wasn't green when you bought it!"

"Yer right, Jason," Walkerton said. "I ran out of Kleenex a while back and I had to use that sock." Jason dropped the sock.

Sal burst through the door without knocking as usual. Her usual giddy self was suffering a bit. "There's bad news," Sal started.

"See?! I told you numbskulls so!" Mike grimaced.

Sal sat herself down on Walkerton's bed. "SEMY hasta cut back on funds. Appar'ntly, the government is sayin' that we're usin' up too much of the budget."

"The government has a budget?" Walkerton asked surprisingly. "When did they do that?"

"I dunno, bro'. Still, they're sayin' SEMY takes up too much money an' took away some'f 'ur more expensive equipment."

Dave started to get concerned. "So what are we gonna use?"

"Big Boss said that we've got some older fighters and bombers stashed away in one of the hangers."

"Great," Mike frowned again.

Sal frowned along with Mike. "So basically, we're just sit- ting ducks if the aliens attack again."

"Nah," Dave shook his head. "The aliens probably won't attack us, anyway."

Five minutes later, Squadron 128 was stuck behind an uprooted piece of concrete, fighting back the alien advance. After evading SEMY's "new" radar system, the purple-suited extra-terrestrials successfully began a systematic take-over of the SEMY Compex. "You and your big mouth," Mike called back to Dave. Mike reached around the concrete slab and managed a shot at an alien. He immediately ducked from the counterfire.

Walkerton, Sal, and Dave pressed against the blackened ground. It was only with luck that they had made it this far. Everything around them didn't work. The password system on the doors around the complex that would have bought them some time opened with the combination "12345." The automated transportation system broke down.

"We have to make it to the hanger," Dave shouted over the roar of laser cannon fire.

"Duh," Jason said. Jason refused to get down on the dirty concrete. Instead, he brought a mat to crouch on.

"C'mon, I've got an idea," Walkerton spoke up. Dave and Mike looked surprised. Walkerton rarely had an idea. At least not a good one.

Sal cringed from a shot overhead. "Spit it out, bro'."

"Well, the hanger is just over there, right?" Walkerton said as he pointed past the concrete slab. Dave nodded. "Well, let's see if we can pick up this big rock and use it as a shield as we run toward the hanger doors." Dave and Mike exchanged glances.

Then copilot Dave smiled. "That's the most intelligent idea I've ever heard!" Dave patted the brown-haired pilot on the back.

"I saw it on Gilligan's Island once," Walkerton grinned.

Sal got up from the ground and commanded, "C'mon, group, let's get started. Dave, you grab the left end. Mike, you git the other. Walkerton, I'll need ya to pick up the middle. Jason--"

The neat-freak soldier looked up from his mat and countered, "I'm not going anywhere near that filthy rock!"

Sal gave him an evil glare. "Fine. Then you kin stay right here as we carry yer cover away!"

Jason reconsidered.

"Good, Jason, you kin hold up the top, and I'll give directin'."

As Mike and Dave heaved up the sides, Mike complained, "How come you don't have to carry it?" But the immense weight of the slab stopped all bickering as they began to stumble forward. Finally, they began to pick up some speed as Squadron 128 hurdled toward the hanger.

Sal glanced around the slab and saw the group of aliens that had been giving them trouble ahead. "Speed up!" she cried. With renewed determination, Walkerton, Dave, Mike, and Jason charged into the alien's barricade. "Drop it!" Sal shouted. They released the weight of the concrete slab on the aliens as they sprinted over them.

Suddenly without any cover, aliens from all over opened fire on the group. "Great idea, Sal," Mike said as he scrunched his back flat up against the wall of the hanger. "Does anyone actually know the password for this darn hanger anyway?"

"Who cares," Walkerton smiled craftily as he ripped his laser gun out of his pocket. "I'm taking this door down password or not!" Unfortunately, Walkerton always forgot one thing. Nearly every single time he tried to knock down a door with his "trusty" laser gun, the darn thing backfired and sent him flying through the air. Almost as often, he would hit his head and would think that he was Eleanor Roosevelt or something.

"Give me that!" Dave said as he swiped the gun away. He aimed for the door himself and brought it tumbling down with a firm blast. They were now safely inside. "So where is our new stealth bomber?"

Sal headed for the shadow in the corner. "Right over here." Walkerton, Jason, Mike, and Dave crowded around the aircraft.

"The Spirit of Saint Lois?!" Dave screamed. "Our new plane is The Spirit of Saint Louis? That thing hasn't been used since it flew the first solo cross-Atlantic trip!"

"Cool!" Walkerton grinned as he climbed into the cockpit. Looking around its small interior, he remarked, "Gee, how're we gonna fit all of us in here?" Dave buried his head in his hand. Sal looked at Mike and then at Jason.

Breaking the silence, Mike said, "So we hafta draw straws, or what?"

"Paper-Rock-Scissors! Paper-Rock-Scissors!" Walkerton cheered as he hopped up and down in his dusty seat.

"But the other person ALWAYS chooses the rock..." Dave sighed as he and Walkerton glided not-so-steadily over the SEMY Complex. Walkerton pulled on the airplane's crude controls and dived down at a large group of aliens scurrying around on the ground. He pressed a button on the control panel, but nothing happened.

"Where's the fire button?" he asked Dave.

"I thought if I was the paper, I would have it made..."

"I can't find the bomb-drop lever either!" Walkerton said as he searched the control panel.

"But noooo, Sal and Jason had to be paper..."

Then the plane stalled.

When Walkerton woke up, he was lying on a stretcher being carried into the Infirmary. At first he couldn't feel his head, but then he realized that he never could. Second, he looked down and made sure all his parts were there. Sure, his clothes were torn up, but he was all there.

Before he knew it, he was in the Infirmary lined up with about fifteen others. Nearly all of them were burnt a bit, but none were missing anything either.

The sounds of battle were missing from outside, and there were lights, but they were from candles scattered about. Professor Doc, the Chief Science and Medicine Officer, was soon standing next to him looking over Walkerton's wounds. The Professor had a goofy presence, mostly because of his oversized trenchcoat and hair. "Great Scott!" Doc shouted, grabbing his forehead. "Walkerton, what happened to you?!"

"Sp-Spirit..."

Professor Doc glanced about. "Spirits...Ghosts in SEMY! There are GHOSTS in SEMY!!!!!!!!!" After one neurotic twitch of the eye, Doc twirled around and announced to his staff: "Attention, everyone! The esteemed Pilot Walkerton states that there are GHOSTS in the SEMY Complex! We must take immediate acti--"

Walkerton clutched the back of Professor Doc's trenchcoat. "N-no... Spirit of Saint Louis...."

"Who's Louis?"

"Never mind, Doc. I was in a plane crash. Where's Dave?"

Walkerton's question was answered as Dave as carried in and set next to him. Dave was moaning and groaning all over the place. Walkerton looked over and asked, "Dave, what's wrong?"

Dave rocked back and forth in his stretcher. "Should have...picked scissors..."

Walkerton reached into his pocket. "Here, Dave, have some Doritos!" he said as he extended a bag to his co-pilot.

Dave woke up completely and looked around. "What's with the candles, Doc?"

Professor Doc replied, "Oh, those. Well, the lights were out of the reach of our budget."

"Where is all this money going?" Doc thought and answered, "Probably funding some abortion somewhere... Anyway, we're gonna have to operate on that bloody leg of yours, Co-Pilot Rease."

"Good, Doc. Knock me out." Dave lifted his arm for a shot of anesthetic.

Professor Doc frowned. "About that item, Co-Pilot..."

"Yeah?"

"Anesthetic is out of our budget as well..."

Dave's scream was heard all over the Infirmary.

At the end of the week, both Walkerton and Dave were released back into duty. Walkerton was eating Doritos in his office when the intercom clicked on. "Pilot Walkerton," Miss Eables ordered in her grinding voice, "Big Boss would like to see you in his office."

Walkerton frowned.

"What does he want this time?"

"Well, partly to inform you that SEMY's budget has been restored to normal."

"Yeah, so?"

"I don't know."

"Oh."

"So that brings things back to normal, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Pilot Walkerton."

Walkerton got out of his seat and headed down the hall.