"Excuse me, Lord Centauris, sir?"
"Greetings, Bric. I would say "long time no see" but that would be factually incorrect. I am also not a lord. What brings you to my workshop this time?"
"Well, I was just thinking... You know how I really want to become an Astral Adventurer, once the village space programme is ready?"
"Yes, Bric, and I remind you for the 17th time that we are working on it as fast as we can and that we cannot currently provide an accurate estimate..."
"Yes, yes, I know! But I was thinking... It's very dangerous out there, in space, isn't it?"
"Cosmic horrors beyond your realm of comprehension, Bric"
"...Yes, well, and so I would need a weapon to defend myself, wouldn't I?"
"If one of your objectives is to survive, that would indeed be an appropriate way of decreasing the risk of failure to achieve that aim."
"...emmm... Yes, so, I was just wondering, Lord Centauris, as the most skilled engineer in Linkingrad, could you devise such a weapon for me?"
"There are 34 high priority state-required engineering tasks in the queue for this evening alone, Bric, I doubt that..."
"Oh! Of course! But, you know, it just came to me, I've been meaning to do a gardening special in the next issue of the Courier... We could even do a two-page spread on your petunias, I'm sure readers will be fascinated to know..."
"A gardening special issue, you say? Well... maybe I could increase the priority of your task and quickly assemble something for you. Did you have anything in particular in mind? Ray-gun? Laser sword?"
"Erm... A mortar? With AI capabilities?"
"Sorry, I didn't quite register that. Please increase the amplitude of vocalisation."
"A... A mortar? With AI?"
"Did you just say, "a mortar with AI"?"
"Emm... Yes."
A few moments later
"Wow! Thank you so much Lord Centauris! It looks incredible!"
"I am not a lord. The bicorn hat is a fashion accessory. Let me demonstrate how the weapon works."
"Turn the handle clockwise to wind-up the system. When fully wound, it will emit a "ding" sound."
DING!
"The system is now active and ready to fire, with AI capabilities fully operational."
Ouch! So bright... Wait, where am I? Who am I? Who are these two?
"There is voice recognition, auto-targeting, et cetera. I unfortunately could not find a voice box, so emitted communication is in the form of beeps."
Wait, I can't BEEPing talk?! What in the BEEP?!
"The system can take almost any object as ammunition, as long as it fits in the barrel..."
Wait, you can't just stuff any old thing in there!
"The system can fire from the ground or picked up and fired while carried in the hands, like so..."
GET THE BEEP OFF ME YOU BEEPING BEEP
*DOOF*
"It is also fully portable, and can be mounted on the back using this neck bracket, like so..."
Oh what in the fresh hell is this?! Put me down!
"That is incredible! Thank you so much Lord Centauris!"
"You're welcome, Bric. And I'm not a lord. The bicorn hat is a fashion accessory."
Sometime Later
"Wow! This is ossum! My very own mortar! I can't wait for all the adventures we're going to have! I think I will call you... Morty! Bric and Morty, geddit?"
BEEP you, man! You had the most powerful technical wizard in Linkingrad commission me just for a stupid pun? Get over yourself!
"Oh, I just thought of something even more ossum! Wait here!"
The BEEP else am I gonna do, genius? I can't walk!
"..."
Oh hell no!
"I turned myself into a brik, Morty! Boom! Big reveal! I'm a brik! What do you think about that? I turned myself into a brik! Wh-wh-what are you just staring at me for, bro? I turned myself into a brik, Morty."
And?
"And? What more do you want tacked onto this? I turned myself into a brik and Ragnablok was an inside job?"
Was it?
"Who cares, Morty. Global acts of Brikverse-spanning violence happen every day. Here's something that's never happened before: I'm a brik!"
Wait wait wait, you can understand me?
"Just roll with it, Morty, jeez! It's called suspension of disbelief for comedic effect!"
"..."
...
"I'M BRICKLE BRIIIIIC!"
Just kill me now.
No hermit crabs or mortars were harmed in the making of this soap.
