Pneumatics was never my strong point. A pocketful of burritos and I'm a happy camper, leave the hoses to the masters, I always say. And there's masters aplenty there, enough to ice the cake and eat it too. But when the pumps start shuddering like that, I think of taking the emergency shuttle home to my sweetheart, whose hot cross buns are just the ticket, standing room only, if you know what I mean.

So what I'm trying to say, mister, is that I really don't think I need to be the one to go up there. Perhaps one of your knuckle-dragging minions might like to try his hand at corralling the hot gases. I'd rather have my nose to the grindstone than my ass in the air any day, if you know what I mean.

Insubordination? I laugh in your face. Ha, face. Remember, if anything happens to me, those negatives go straight to the Captain, and that's one blimpmeister who's got no patience for people who mistreat ducks the way you do. I think I'll be taking over here now. Sign me up for one of those tonic water things with the foam and the brown flecks. You, there, fetch my slippers. I've got a lot of loafing around to catch up on. Here, sip this drink for me.

And wipe that smile off your face.