Author's Note:
I am sincerely sorry for my lack of updates. I've actually had this stored on my iPod for quite some time, and was going to add to it before I decided that I'd just post it as it was and see how that went.

Dodgers watched as the Cadet's transport flew into the distance, slowly getting smaller until it finally disappeared. He twitched slightly, head moving quickly to the left and back again. He blinked, trying to comprehend what was happening.

Ah, he remembered now, the Cadet... No, Porky had just left his ship, no... Bugs' house to celebrate Christmas with some people who were of little importance to him.
"I mustht be tired." he said aloud, after all, 'his ship'? He couldn't afford a house, let alone a ship, and Porky, a cadet? He almost laughed at the thought.

"Hey Bugsth, I'm going to bed!" He loudly informed his roommate, though he did not receive a reply. 'Huh,' he thought, 'Must still be angry at me for...' What was it he had done again? He couldn't seem to remember. When he tried all he got was a headache and a small, aching pain in his chest, though he couldn't understand why. As he snapped out of his thoughts he realised he was in a large corridor with a number of doors on either side. 'Something seems different... Oh, Bugs must have redecorated!' Though his conclusion had many flaws, he accepted it as truth, and set about finding his room, trying each door he passed.

After a while (at least a couple of hours) of opening and closing doors, he found a room that vaguely resembled his own and collapsed on his bed. "I can't believe Bugsth had the nerve to redecorate my room! I'll have to speak to him about thisth." He ignored the small voice inside his head that protested, saying that this room was bigger than his former room, and started to drift off to sleep.

"But your Highness-!"
"That's enough, Commander."
"That is enough! You are dismissed."
He made a small noise to express his discontent before leaving the room. He was Commander X-2, an important figure in the Martian army, yet his Queen- the Queen still refused to listen to him. What had he done for her to dismiss him so easily? His idea was brilliant. After many years if surveying the earthlings' behaviour, he noticed that around this time of year many members of the Protectorate gathered at their headquarters on Earth or returned home, leaving only a few members to actually protect anything. Of course, when the Commander first discovered this he was baffled. Surely this was a trick. Why would the Protectorate withdraw the majority of their members from the galaxy for no reason? Yet each year, this continued to happen, and he slowly began to feel confident this would be an annual event. The years continued to prove him correct, so he decided to take advantage of this.
It was simple. An idea which was quite ironically inspired by the villain (the former) General Z-9's failed attempt to destroy the Protectorate's headquarters. Of course, his idea, though inspired by that wretch's, would be a guaranteed success. He was certain that whatever the Protectorate did in these times must be important, so they would be too busy to check on the fleet protecting them. The Robot Centurions would hijack the Protectorate ships and use them to destroy the defensive system surrounding the Earth, allowing the Martian fleet in. The remainders of the earthlings' fleet would be crushed by his own larger fleet and they could launch an all-out assault upon their headquarters.

He believed his plan to be flawless... Well, almost. As always, Dodgers would be there to ruin his plans and destroy his fleet. It wasn't just a possibility. He knew Dodgers would be there, so he had spent the last few days thinking of a way to distract Dodgers long enough for his plan to succeed.

Yet even after all of that careful planning, the Queen refused to even listen to his plan. He couldn't help but feel angry. Queen Tyr'ahnee had constantly rejected his feelings, even on their wedding day, she seemed to doubt all of his actions, and just to add salt to the wound; she was besotted with Dodgers, of all people! Perhaps if he were to finally able to best Dodgers then the Queen would direct her affections to him.
That decided it. He was going through with the plan.

Dodgers groaned and attempted to press the snooze button on his friendly alarm. He couldn't reach it, so he rolled over in an effort to make the action more easy. He ended up sprawled on the floor, in a significant amount of pain.
"Oh, shut up!" Dodgers angrily smacked the snooze button.
"Bugsth!" Dodgers yelled, "Your crazy alarm's broken!"
Dodgers attempted to smash the object by hurling it against the wall. Unfortunately for him, he failed.
"That'sth it! I am leaving!" After giving the alarm clock a final glare, he exited the room and located the kitchen.

His fleet was in position, he only had to give the order, and they would proceed as planned. The Queen wouldn't approve of this... Minor act of rebellion, however what she didn't know couldn't possibly hurt her. Unless his plan went terribly wrong. An event, he assured the Centurions under his command, which is highly unlikely. His robot colleagues were more skeptical of this than he would have liked, though they still decided to participate. The rewards if they succeeded would be good, though if they failed, the punishments they received would be severe. On the other hand, if anything went drastically wrong they could find some way to shift most of the blame upon the Commander. Of course, they decided not to explain the reasoning behind their decision to their dear friend the Commander. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him, after all.

He sat up straight in his chair, posture tense, holding its arms within a vice-like grip, and waited.

After trying to create a breakfast of bacon and pancakes- which consequently failed due to his inability to find any eggs, bacon, or in fact anything apart from the milk- he decided to go with plain old cereal. He also wondered, yet again, where Bugs was. It was irrevocably impertinent of Bugs to leave him to make his own breakfast; the amount of work it took exhausted him. After grabbing a box of Sugar Puffs and a bottle of what he assumed was milk, he found himself a bowl and sat down at the kitchen counter, then prepared his meal, placing an inanely large amount of the cereal in the bowl. He took out- what was in his opinion- a relatively clean spoon that had been left on the side, and scooped up a generous helping of cereal. He started to hack and cough as he felt a vile taste enter his mouth. "Ugh!" He exclaimed in disgust, "What do they put in thith sthtuff?!"

It then dawned upon him that he should have checked the expiry date of the milk. Though he did his best to keep the refrigerator free of anything that was past its expiry date ('he' meaning his roommate), the occasional carton of sour milk and plate of rotting food did manage to weasel their way in there. He looked at the carton of milk and realised what the name of the product was: 'Space Cow Milk'. Likely just another case of false advertising. He then saw the expiry date. "Exthpires in the year 2601!? Well I guessth thith can't be what desthtroyed my breakfast..." But the only other thing his meal consisted of was... "Aha!" He cried out triumphantly, holding his hands up in the air as though he'd just won a marathon, "I've got it!" He then proceeded to pick up the box of cereal with much more vigour than was necessary. He peered at the top of the box, only to be disappointed to find it said: 'Expires by: Dec 2014'. Oh. It must have been the milk then, as there's no way cereal can go bad before its date of expiry.

After his failure of a breakfast, Dodgers decided it wasn't worth spending more time trying to make a new one. After tidying away the items he used, placing the spoon and the bowl next to the sink and the supposedly bad milk back inside the fridge, he wandered off back into the winding hallways of the 'house', trying to find the living room so he could sit back, relax, and watch some TV.

The suspense was putting him on edge. It had been five minutes, five whole minutes, and yet Dodgers still hadn't arrived. It was unnerving, to say the least. Usually within a few minutes of his arrival Dodgers would be there to stop his plan just as it was about to commence... Yet he wasn't here.

"Commander, should we start the attack yet?" the robotic voice of one of his Centurions questioned.

He swallowed drily. If Dodgers hadn't appeared yet, then either that meant he knew about his plan and had made a counter-plan, or something was wrong. Either way, the Commander's mind wouldn't be at rest until he knew what was going on.
He turned to the Centurion whom had spoke to him and proclaimed "We shall not begin the invasion until I am sure we will be able to carry it out perfectly." The Centurions all exchanged pained expressions. Or they would have if they had faces. As it was, they didn't, so they just stared at each other to try to get the message across.
The Commander broke the silence that his previous comment had ensued by loudly giving the order, "Put Dodgers on the line!"

Dodgers had found the living room a few minutes ago. It too had been given a makeover to make it seem like part of a spaceship. The efforts some people would go through just to get their houses to look cool... But he had to admit, the effect used on the windows was pretty swanky. It made them seem almost as though they were in space, although the effect was spoiled by the tacky 'futuristic Earth. I mean seriously, creating a massive building that can be seen, even from near the moon? Who does that? And the defence system. The blue force-field was getting a little clich├ęd now. However overall, the rest of the effect was pretty cool. He especially loved how some of the items seemed to move.

He found the room great until he realised Bugs had replaced the TV. Though this new television was much larger, and, he assumed, of a higher quality, he had no idea as to how the thing worked. At first he reasoned that he could try to find a remote for it. He instantly realised he would likely be unable to find the thing. So instead, he resorted to trying various other methods to get it to work; shouting at it, hitting the side of it, kicking it and even throwing himself at it, but all his efforts were in vain. The only thing he managed to accomplish through this was causing himself a lot of pain. He was pretty sure he'd somehow managed to dislocate his arm, and he knew that he'd have bruises all the way up his body, yet he was about to persist in his efforts when it suddenly blared to life, revealing a small, strange man wearing an odd little green helmet with what appeared to be a brush attached to it.

"I wonder what sthorta show thith is..."