While I was occupied with the questionnaire/scissors, Pilot emerged from a doorway with demands for his job back.
"...IS THAT A CITIZENSHIP APPLICATION?!"
He somehow must have noticed the citizenship papers I'd put down on the table amidst the time-worn "WHITEN YOUR TEETH" brochures.
"Ummm... no?" I replied, realizing that if Pilot took the papers away I'd likely never see my gun again.
"GIVE THEMS HERER!"
Pilot shouted, suddenly lurching forward towards the papers.
"Stay back!" I cried out.
"These scissors are very sharp! I will... uhhh... give you a very bad haircut!" I sounded like a fool.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooOOO." Pilot stumbled, screeching.
"That's right! Don't come any closer or that's a haircut for you!" I pressed on. I couldn't believe my ridiculous strategy was working.
"CURSE YOU, SCISSOR-HANDS!" Pilot shrieked, shaking his fist at me, stepping backwards.
"YOU'LL NEVER BE A TRUE CITIZEN OF CAPTANIA, YOU JERB-STEELING-CRABSTACEAN!
I'LL MAKE SURE THOSE PAPERS NEVER MAKE IT TO CAPTAIN'S DESK! IT'LL BE THE UNEMPLOYMENT OFFICE FOR YOU, SOONER OR LATER!"
"Shoo now. Shooo."
I waved the scissors at Pilot as he retreated into the hallway, stumbling and grumbling how United Postal Service was on his side because his cousin works there.
Pilot was clearly (and luckily for me) deathly afraid of either scissors or haircuts.
Perhaps this was Captain's plan all along, I pondered, staring at the citizenship papers. Now, if I could just find a pen... and perhaps a paintbrush for these watercolors. I looked around the Dental office for such.
Green goggles glinted at me from a far off window. Pilot was watching me.
"AHA, PINCER-HAND! YOU'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO FILL THEMS FORMS OUTS!" he shouted, gleefully. "NOT IF I ERADICATE AND HARVEST ALL TEH WRITING SUPPLIES IN THIS NATION FIRST!"
I cursed, I must have been speaking out loud again... or Pilot was smarter than he looked.
I searched the dental office thoroughly for a pen or pencil. There were none to be found.
"Writing utensils," I thought, "hmmm... where can I find such.... Aha!" I walked to the western wall and looked out of the broken window, searching for a certain art supplies shop that Captain and I passed on our way to this building.
It was now on fire.
G-damn it, Pilot!
Well, considering that was no longer an option, I looked at the blackened office wall.
The old wooden panels were cracked and carbonised almost silver, and, clinging to them, a torn poster of a kitten doctor encouraged,
"YOU CAN MEW IT!"
Hmmm... you're right Dr. Kitty, that just might do!
I tore a piece of blackened wood off the wall and began to scribble on the papers,
laughing maniacally at having defeated Pilot's machinations. Nobody said it had to be perfectly legible...