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ANIMAL HOUSE meets STAR WARS as the shabby but good-hearted employees of the Intersteller Yeller Cab Company keep the universe safe from the machinations of the evil Centurion Cab Company.

COMPANY PITCH:
 DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO DRIVE FOR INTERSTELLER YELLER?

Everybody dreams of exploring strange new worlds. Going where no one has gone before. But with gas prices being what they are in the 23^rd century, who can afford to?

Traveling the galaxy costs big greens and most folks do not have that kind of disposable lucre lying around. Sure, you can always join the Galaxstate military and see the universe, but, hey!, that’s not just an adventure, it’s a job! Where’s the fun in that?

For those special few with the stamina, the stomach, and insomnia for it, there is an economical and less prescriptive solution.

You can always drive a cab.

Tank Image , of the Boston Images, wants to rule the galaxy. Every last parsec of it. But what to conquer first?

What else? Transportation! The life’s blood of the Galaxstate’s interplanetary society! And what more nondescript place to gain a foothold than with a monopoly of the Galaxstate’s taxi service?

"A plan so subtle it’s brilliant," Image crows to his number one minion, Slimeboat. "Brilliant enough to give a halogen bulb an inferiority complex."

Image knows that the Galaxstate, the omnipresent yet overburdened Milky Way government in the 22^nd century, will be only too delighted to look the other way while he carves out his monopoly in spite of the anti-trust laws on the fiber-op files. Taxi companies have been nothing but the cause of Galaxstate headaches for decades with the endless bickering against ultra-federal regulations, fare restrictions and passenger quotas, all the while skirmishing with each other for the most lucrative wormholes to post their cab stands.

"If Tank Image wants to win this particular Checker flag so badly, I say he’s welcome to it and good riddance," Prime Minister Maxine Escrow tells the Galaxstate Parliament during a secret hearing, a potentially fatal decision considering Image’s agenda. In no time at all Image’s new business, Centurion Cab Company, has swallowed up nearly all of his competition.

"It’s almost too easy,’ Image complains to Slimeboat. "I haven’t even had to hurt anybody."

Small wonder when Centurion is paying top dollar to any driver who can parallel park and any mechanic who can change a windshield wiper. Centurion has the latest in IGPVs (InterGalactic Passenger Vehicles) and their FTL commo (Faster-Than-Light communication) equipment is beyond state-of-the-art. Centurion also offers flex hours, daycare, gym membership, six months paid vacation and wellness leave after three weeks on the job.

Soon only one otherwise insignificant company is all that stands between Image and his coveted first monopoly. One last taxi company that is too stubborn to sell out and too stupid to die: Intersteller Yeller, whose new company motto becomes, "We’ll go anywhere, and we won’t take a Centurion to get there!"

It takes a special strain of person to pass up Centurion’s amenities to work for IY (eye-why). The only benefits IY can offer its employees are a pop machine and clean towels in the restroom once a week. But no guarantees. Working for IY requires independence, self-confidence, a healthy disrespect for authority and a lack of alternative employment opportunities.

To put it bluntly, pal, IY’s drivers, mechanics and dispatcher are the mutts of the Galaxstate, and darn proud of it. It is a staff which includes:

• ROYCE DASH: IY’s top driver and the Eric Stratton (a.k.a. Otter) of the organization;

• THE LADY EDSEL: Abdicated royalty from the House of Alebowrene, eager to make her own way in the galaxy;

• LUCKY BUTTERCUP: A scholar, a gentleman, and a robot, not to mention one sweet mechanic;
  
• PFFT: A conscience effluence who was emanated to drive;
  
• THE SABATINE BROTHERS: EL CAMINO, LE RIVIERA, and LA BRAGINI, IY’s pseudo-suave answer to the Marx Brothers;
  
• THE WISE OLD MAN: The sage hermit of Earthfast who owns IY;
  
• THE WISE OLD WOMAN: Married to THE WISE OLD MAN;

• TOR: IY’s monosyllabic, pinguid, yet lovable dispatcher, who lives for soap operas and works 24/7 without so much as a bathroom break.

When they are not on duty you can generally find this cast of characters hanging out at Carl’s Star-Stuff Salon, a seen-better-days tavern in the Wrigleyville neighborhood of Chicago. Carl’s is the staff’s home away from home, and Carl, the professorial owner/bartender, their ever-ready sympathetic ear, so long as they pay their tab.

Unaware of Image’s ultimate scheme, the battle between Centurion and IY is on. A battle that is futile for tiny IY to fight, but futile is just the kind of odds these characters like. To a man the philosophy of IY’s staff is: "Where’d be the challenge if we had a chance of winning?"

Tank Image will stop at nothing to get him monopoly. There is no corrupt politician he will not by, no cab inspector he will not intimidate, no traffic controller he will not coerce into making life a veritable Hell for Intersteller Yeller.

For their part there is no underhanded scheme IY’s staff will not use to steal Centurion’s fares, no practical joke they will not pull on Centurion’s staff, and no flagrant disregard they will not hurl in Tank Image’s face.

"You can’t stay in business much longer," a frustrated Image snarls at The Wise Old Man and Woman when they reject his latest offer to buy them out. "Intersteller Yeller is outnumbered, outmanned, and outclassed."

"Come back when you got something to tell us we don’t know.," is The Wise Old Couple’s reply.

Image will be back.

Even after Dash and Lucky change the directional settings on the Centurion IGPV’s gimbals so its drivers trash their cabs in the Sol system’s Oort cloud instead of flying to Jupiter to rake in major coin at the 135^th Annual Academy Awards of Bingo©, Image will be back.

Even after Pfft convinces a plague of laryngitis virus to infest Centurion’s dispatch command center, Image will be back.

Even after The Lady Edsel uses some of "royal" clout to have Centurion Cab designated an infectious disease in her old home system of Rowtuntug and its drivers subject to immediate quarantine, Image will be back.

Image will always be back. He is holding all the cards. "You can’t win, IY."

"Well, if we’re going to lose," Dash tells his comrades, "let’s make it a loss no one will ever forget. There is a sick victory in that we can be proud of."