Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Yep, Denizens, it’s that time of year again.
Ten.
Those of you who have read me for any  length of time – well, you probably knew it was coming all along, didn’t you? – but you know damned well what this is.
For now, click the link.  Go ahead.  Click it.  I effin’ dare  you.
And turn it up.  Waaaaaay  up.    )
That’s right, sportz fanz:  It’s vacation time for His Rudeness™.  A chance to Get Away From It All™ for the next 10 days or so.
Thanks to Bambi & his shitty economy, though, Mrs. Venomous & I are staying in town and not doing a helluva lot, due to the money just not being there.
MRS. VENOMOUS:  Ohhhhhh, don’t worry, sweetie.  We’ll find plenty  of things to do. (wink)
VENOMOUS: 
Vicar, General – you guys have the conn.  General…when you’re done chlorinating the gene pool of Occutards down there in the Southern Command™, could I borrow another squadron of those black helicopters…? 
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
KORRIOTH:  M’liege, a moment, if I may…?
VENOMOUS:  Certainly, Captain.  What’s on your mind?
KORRIOTH:  You maintain that the current countdown has eight days remaining, is that not so?
VENOMOUS:  That’s right, Kor.  So?
KORRIOTH:  Far be it from me to question your reasoning, Admiral, but…
[His Rudeness™ slowly raises one eyebrow]
VENOMOUS:  This better be good, Bumpy.
KORRIOTH:  …but Mr McCool & I, in going back over the archives, noticed that whereas Zero Hour™ this year occurs on a Monday, previous  countdowns this time of year always occurred on a Saturday.  We were simply curious as to what changed.
{Two and two come together in His Rudeness’™ mind as glowing purple eyes widen to near the size of quarters.  He snatches Korrioth’s padd from his hand.]
VENOMOUS:  Gimme that…  (scans the padd)  Well, whaddya know?  You’re absolutely, bang-on, right-on-the-nose right, Kor.
[The Klingon-Vulcan hybrid stands just a little straighter at the sound of his commander’s approval, then his own eyes turn into quarters at Venomous’ next words.]
VENOMOUS:  Nice work…General.
KORRIOTH:  Uh…sir…?
VENOMOUS:  A long-overdue promotion, Kor.  This just confirms what I should’ve done a long time ago.
KORRIOTH:  Th-thank you, m’lord.
VENOMOUS:  Report to the quartermaster immediately and get re-outfitted, General.  I’ll see that they expect you.
KORRIOTH:  At once, Admiral.  [He turns to go.]
VENOMOUS:  …General Korrioth…?
[Korrioth stops short and turns.]
VENOMOUS (nodding):  Nice work.
KORRIOTH (straightening):  Thank you, sir.  [He turns and leaves.]
VENOMOUS (muttering to himself):  …Venomous, you senile old bastard…
—
Okay, then.  Eight, seven, six.