Dear Harvey - Advice Column
Acknowledgements: Thank you Lassievorc, ixchup, bum, and Reefrunner for your wonderful e-mail, I absolutely cannot do it without you. Please keep those e-mails coming. This column depends on you, dear reader.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, I’m keeping my day job.
Disclaimer #2: This is a parody of advice columns. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or fictional person, past or present, is unintentional and is meant for entertainment only.
Dear Readers,
My most profound apologies for this long hiatus between columns, but John assures me that you are quite used to them. Although, in my defense, the delay isn’t entirely my doing as communication has been rather spotty, and we have been using most of the available bandwidth to resolve our predicament.
First, the good news. The predicament has been resolved. Through much diligent effort, Noranti was able to devise a recipe that satisfied the Wormholeans that used ingredients that are commonly found in Tormented space, wormhole space, Uncharted territories, and known space. Finding compatible meat was a little more difficult, but the Wormholeans solved that by providing their own equivalent chicken.
Now for the bad news. We have a new predicament. The Wormholeans are quite satisfied with our solution, and have graciously treated all corporeal beings to a lavish going away dinner. In fact, they wanted to test it on us before they indulged themselves. Well, it seems that everyone whose anyone arrived and indulged and indulged, and let me tell you, it isn’t pretty. Not only that, all but John are immobilized by their gluttony. John, used to this type of fare, was able to pace himself and thus can waddle around the table. Sikozu, on the other foot, while due for her rare meal, is so unused to this much grease ate such prodigious amounts that her system has temporarily shut down. Scorpius is another matter entirely. He just sits there moaning, holding his head, and repeating over and over how he can’t believe he ate the whole thing. Aeryn looks pregnant, and although she technically is, it is much too soon for her to be showing. The Wormholeans, however, want no more of us. Now that we’ve satisfied them with an equivalent KFC recipe, they want us to leave the premises immediately, if not sooner.
As this situation is temporary, and we are in no immediate danger, I shall attend to your e-mail while John is napping off his share of the meal.
Humbly yours,
Harvey
______________________________
Dear Harvey,
I have been quite inspired by the whole Farscape saga! People have mentioned they notice me including certain ideas and quotes into my own journey. "Its never easy, " being one I used recently. I'm fascinated with the whole concept of a neural clone! I think it would be a wonderful addition for me and my story! Do you have any friends who'd like a job? Would you, yourself, be interested in a change of venue? I guarantee the working conditions would be topnotch!
Honourably,
Dylan Hunt, Captain
Andromeda Ascendant
The COMMONWEALTH
Dear Captain Hunt,
Ah yes, quality always shows.
Being a neural clone is not all that it is cracked up to be, as I often have to surrender my natural desires to my stubborn host. Furthermore, he doesn’t always appreciate what I do, or what I do in his behalf. A change of venue does seem to be most attractive.
I will talk to John, and encourage him to talk to my friends about your generous offer of employment. They do seem to be floundering now that the Scarran threat has been comfortably set back, and we were able to satisfy the Wormholeans with a KFC equivalent.
______________________________
Dear Harvey,
I have it on good authority (via Screeth) that Col. Sanders is dead and KFC is a corporation dedicated to poisoning children with poly-saturated fats. There are no 11 secret ingredients anymore. We infiltrated this organization called The Center for Science in the Public Interest (http://www.cspinet.org/nah/6_99/transfat3.html) and found wonderful weapons to use on Earth. You see, earthlings miss their junk food. We can spread fast food joints throughout the earth and take over stealthily without their even realizing until it is too late. We'll have pow...er... Peace yet. I'll trade these secrets to you for my freedom because I believe in peace. I'm going crazy here. High Command has decided to follow CSPI's advice and is feeding me health food and fat-free snacks. I need Chocolate! Help me and I'll give you these weapons of vast power over the Earth.
Give Peace a Chance,
Mele-on
Mele-on,
Are you The Dentic in disguise? I thought I was rid of you monens ago, but you seem to be rearing your head once more. I would never have suspected that you and The Dentic are one and the same except for the manipulative way you first garnered my confidence and then turned it on me most unkindly. You had me thinking you are an animal lover, one who has been having a spot of bad luck lately, but an animal lover nonetheless. You are so cruel.
And now you want to spread fat food over the Earth using that creature? I can see what torture fat food does to people from the inside! How dare you!
And if I can help it, no more chocolate for you, you traitor.
From your lips, “give peace a chance” sounds like a curse.
______________________________
Dear Harvey,
I apologize for not writing you recently, but I have been indisposed. I haven’t really been able to keep up with my favorite TV show as there isn’t a television where I am at. Actually, I’m not really sure where I’m at. Who am I? Oh, now I remember.
Yours,
The Commandant Formerly Known as Grayza
Dear Commandant,
Did you know that The Dentic has stolen your identity? You should go after him once you figure out where you are.
I didn’t know that you had access to TV. How is this possible? (‘Do I have Grayza and The Dentic mixed up?’ I thought.)
Regardless, at this time I would not do anything hasty. Just relax and enjoy the scenery and recover your senses. Then, you should be competent to stand trial.
______________________________
Dear Harvey,
Due to the popularity of your widely-read advice column, the staff here at Intergalactic Entertainment, Inc. have selected you and your host John Crichton for our celebrity interview segment. Our interviewer, Dot Barker, would like you to pass along to your readers a request for questions, not about advice, but about you and Mr. Crichton yourselves.
As we understand that you will not be able to come to our offices for the interview, we have enclosed the frequency on which we do long-distance interviews. Please email us and let us know if you can accept this invitation.
Sincerely,
Chad Randolph
Intergalactic Entertainment
Dear Chad,
Yes! I’d love to. And I believe there is just enough bandwidth for me to be able to do this interview once we have parted company with the Wormholeans.
I will be contacting you shortly on the frequency you have provided.
“John, wake up!” I prodded, You’re snoring, it’s making it difficult to write this column.!”
“Snort,” John inhaled and rolled over.
“John wake up!” I insisted.
“Huh? Hey Harve, wazzup?” John said, coming to life.
“Listen, we must get out of here, wake everyone up. The Wormholeans have reached the end of their patience and hospitality.” I said.
“Okay, okay,” John said, reluctantly rubbing the sleep from his eyes and rousing the rest of the crew.
We all packed ourselves into Lo’La, and let me tell you it was quite crowded. On our way back, John and Aeryn learned how Chiana got her sight back.
“It was so drad!” Chiana squealed as she snuggled close to D’Argo. This caused Lo’La to pitch violently toward the Hammond, but D’Argo, used to this behavior, recovered quickly. “I wasn’t going to let them,” Chiana continued. “But I was out-voted because of the urgency to synthesize the KFC recipe. The medics looked at me when I was on the command carrier.” Chiana paused and snuggled closer to D’Argo.
“And... “ Everyone else said in unison.
“Visions weren’t the only thing that the energy rider left me with.” Chiana continued, “she also left me with an extra lens cover. It doesn’t look like my normal eyelid, and I didn’t know I had it, but every time I did that vision thing, this lid would automatically cover my eyes, making them look white and I couldn’t see. Then it would slowly dissipate. It’s sorta a film that covers my eyes giving them time to recover.”
“Can you control it now?” John asked, “can you make it dissipate at will?”
“Yes and no,” Chiana replied. “They gave me some eye drops which forces the film to dissipate. I’m also not getting the headaches anymore because I’m not trying to see through the film.”
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