"Good morning Gentlemen!" hollered the Captain, striding up and down the line of his new recruits. "Good morning, and welcome to the Good Ship Frying Pan!" The captain, a squat furry chap, paused to look at the recruits. All two of them. They were a sorry looking pair – fur matted or sticking every which way, staring at him with glazed expressions. One - the captain consulted a chart to find it's name was Egg – was picking his nose, a colander perched on his head at a jaunty angle and a butter knife strapped to his side. The other – the chart said his name was Chips – wore a grubby overall with the sleeves and legs rolled up about fifty times. This one stood scratching his bum with a spanner and seemed to be chewing something, probably unsavoury.

The poor captain shook his head sadly. If only there hadn't been that damned accident then he wouldn't have to be hiring new crew. Worse still, these two were the best and cheapest he could afford. Still, he shouldn't waste his carefully prepared speech.
"Good morning!" he yelled again. "I am Captain Sausage, and this vessel, the Good Ship Frying Pan, will be your home from now on. I own you, you... you... Bugger, hang on," the captain muttered, and pulled out a piece of paper from some place in his voluminous coat. It had a picture of a parsnip on it. "Ah yes... You parsnip suckers! From now on you do what I say, when I say it. Got it?" The two other Kobolds looked at him.
"Uh. Sure?" Egg said, glancing for support at Chips. Chips glanced back.
"Yeah. Sure," Chips said with a little more confidence.
"Our mission," continued Captain Sausage, "comes directly from King Torg-"
"All hail King Torg!" Egg and Chips yelled in unison.
The captain turned to looked through the ship's window at the star-spangled darkness, and groaned to himself. This was going to be a long day...

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