[I found this saved on my computer and thought you guys might like it. =) Wrote it a loooong time ago and it’s crack-ish.]
“Hello. I am Agent Washingtub,” said…well…said Washingtub, Wash supposed. Wash stared at him. Washingtub stared back, sort of like a mirror except that his armor was blue-streaked gray with yellow accents. They were standing inside of Blue Base, Wash having just gotten back from his usual evening patrol around Valhalla. Not like they actually needed to do patrols here, but old habits died hard, and it was better than being stuck in the base with Caboose and Tucker – and sometimes Doc, who wandered between bases from day to day but kept drifting back to Wash like a really loyal, really annoying dog. With Stockholm syndrome.
“Caboose, what is this?” asked Wash, reaching for his pistol just in case.
“Oh,” said Caboose, looking up from the picture he was coloring. He was drawing Church. Again. “That’s Agent Washingtub. He lives in my head.”
“I live in Caboose’s head,” said Washingtub.
“Explain,” Wash said sharply.
“I am Agent Washingtub,” Agent Washingtub explained. “I used to be a Freelancer and I used to have super powers and then I used to be evil for a while but now I am a Blue. Not all the way though. Sometimes I yell at people when they try to help me and sometimes I shoot them in the head. But it’s okay.”
There was a pause while Wash processed this. “How is that okay?” he said at last.
“Because I know what I’m doing, and no one should tell me what to do, because I know everything. Especially what I’m doing.”
“Okay,” said Wash. “What…is this a joke, or something? Did you guys…make a hologram, or…”
“I don’t like jokes,” said Washingtub. “Because I don’t know how to laugh.”
“Man, he’s got you down,” said Tucker, strolling in through the non-door.
“What the hell is this guy?” Wash snapped, gesturing at Washingtub, who gazed calmly back at him.
“Oh, that? That’s just Caboose’s version of you. You know, how he sees you in his head. Except I dunno what he’s doing out in the real world,” Tucker replied, folding his arms and tilting his helmet at Washingtub curiously. “Hey Caboose, how’d you do that?”
“Well,” said Caboose, sitting up a little and launching into his storytelling voice. “There was this thing I found at Red Base, for making copies of people…”
“Holograms,” Wash said. “You mean holograms.”
“Why the fuck were you at Red Base?” said Tucker.
“I left my cookies there,” said Caboose, then paused. “Actually I never got my cookies from there. But I was looking for cookies. But then I found this machine and it wasn’t cookies and it made copies of people, and I thought maybe I could copy cookies with it so then I picked it up and then I dropped it and then it broke and then I picked it up again and everything got all buzzy, and then Agent Washingtub was there.”
“Buzzy?” repeated Wash.
“Yeah, like, bzzzzzzzzzt,” confirmed Caboose.
“Like a bug-zapper?” Tucker said. “Dude, did you get electrocuted?”
“Yeah maybe,” said Caboose offhandedly, returning to his coloring.
Tucker and Wash exchanged a glance, then looked back at Washingtub, who informed them, “We should be doing our mission.”
“What mission?” said Wash.
“There’s always a mission,” Washingtub replied. “Usually it’s about mean ladies and computer-people.”
“Sounds about right,” said Tucker. “Hey, ’Tub, you know how we get you to go away?”
Washingtub nodded sagely. “I know everything. But it is a secret. And first we will have to fight aliens, and then there will be explosions. I am the best at explosions.”
Wash tilted his head. “No you’re not,” he said. “Tex is.” Was.
“Don’t question me,” ordered Washingtub, though he maintained that slightly bland, politely informative tone of voice. “If you question me, I’ll get mad. And then I’ll shoot you in the head.”
“I don’t always shoot people in the head,” Wash grumbled. He turned to Tucker. “Can’t you get rid of him somehow?”
Tucker shrugged. “I dunno man, it’s kinda entertaining to watch you argue with yourself.”
“That’s not me,” Wash protested. “That’s…that’s…”
“I am Agent Washingtub,” Agent Washingtub supplied.
“Right,” said Wash, looking to Tucker.“So do you think shooting him would work?”
“See?” said Tucker. “You totally do shoot people in the head! Like all the time! Jeez, Wash, you can’t always just shoot people in the head to solve your problems. I’m telling you, man, you need to take some fuckin’ lessons in How to Be a Person or some shit. I can teach you if you want but it’s gonna cost ya, ‘cause a teacher of this caliber is in pretty high demand, so –”
“Tucker,” Wash growled.
Tucker sighed, looking warily at the pistol still in Wash’s hand. “Okay, okay, fine.” He turned toward Washingtub. “Look, uh, Washingtub…I know it’s all secret, but I’m a secret agent, just like you, and I know where you can find secret information for your secret mission. All you have to do is tell me how to make you go away.”
“That seems counterproductive,” Washingtub commented. “I never do anything that is counterproductive. Productivity is an important part of being a soldier.”
“No, man, it’s totally productive, because if I can make you go away then I can send you on your mission. Get it?”
“Oh,” replied Washingtub. “In that case, I will tell you.”
They waited. But Washingtub just stood there gazing back at them.
“What’s the hold up, dude?” said Tucker impatiently.
“First we have to fight robot aliens,” Washingtub told him. “And then there will be explosions.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” muttered Tucker. “You’re just as fuckin’ frustrating as the real you.”
“I am a real person,” said Washingtub. “And I am totally, completely sane.”
“Agent Washingtub,” said Wash firmly, before Tucker could respond. “I’m your commanding officer.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Washingtub, immediately performing an immaculate salute.
“I order you to tell me how to get rid of you.”
“Yes, sir. I am a hologram and will disappear on my own, sir.”
“Good,” said Wash. “Thank you.” Washingtub nodded curtly. He was already beginning to flicker and waver in the filtered light. Rather than watch, Wash stepped outside the base and sat down in the grass with his back to the wall.
“He’s gone,” said Tucker after a couple of minutes, wandering out toward Wash. “How’d you get him to tell you anyway?”
“He always follows orders,” Wash said tiredly.
“Huh.” Tucker sat down next to him, and, miraculously, was quiet for a while. Just when Wash was beginning to wonder if he’d up and died inside his armor, he spoke again. “You know what, Wash?”
“You might be an uptight, annoying, rule-following, neurotic mess of a human being —”
“I wasn’t finished, asshole. Anyway, you might be an asshole, but it’s pretty cool havin’ you on Blue Team. I mean, sure, maybe you do shoot people in the head sometimes —”
“That happened once, and for the last time, she shot me first.”
“—but at least you can shoot. That’s one-up on Church.” Tucker paused. “I mean. Not like that’s an accomplishment. But still.”
“Thanks for the heartfelt speech of appreciation, Tucker,” Wash said dryly.
“Whatever, asshole,” Tucker replied, standing up and wandering back into the base.
Wash watched him go, then sighed and stood again. Maybe he’d do another patrol.
“Agent Washington,” Caboose called. “Agent Washington, help! My crayon is broken again!”
Or maybe not. Dutifully, Wash strode back into the base.