#doubleeye

It had been a few months since Andy almost had his show canceled for good. After narrowly avoiding cancellation thanks to his loyal viewers, Andy wanted to reconnect with his audience, so he announced a live Q&A for all the watchdogs. The host was fully prepared to get only a couple letters, but to his surprise, hundreds of watchdogs sent in their positive messages and questions for Andy. Now all he had to do was answer them.

Andy sat down at his security desk, his back facing the camera. Beside him was a red sack so full of letters that it had slumped against his chair and threatened to spill over. Across the room, there was another watchdog, adjusting the camera to make sure everything was just right.

“Three, two, one… Annnd we are live!”

With that, Andy swiveled his chair to face the camera with his trusted microphone in hand.

“Gooood morning watchdogs! I’m Andy, your humble host, and this The Eye On the Skull Ship!”

(Cut to introduction cards of dogs wearing watchdog helmets as music plays in the background)

“Today I’ll be going over all the wonderful messages you guys have sent me as a thanks for keeping my show on air. I’m excited to see what my fans have to say!”

Andy’s eye gleamed with excitement as he pulled the first letter out of the sack and opened it up. Inside was a message from one of his viewers with very sloppy handwriting.

“Ah, here we go. This letter is by Bob from accounting. This one says: ‘Hey Andy! How do you keep your helmet so shiny? I’ve tried’… washing?” Andy had to pause, squinting at scribbles on the paper. “Yeah, ‘washing it in the sink, but it looks… so… dull… even after that. What do you do?’”

“Huh, well, Bob, I’ve never really thought about it. I just kinda use soap and water… Have you tried soap? It might help.” Andy cleared his throat awkwardly before going on. “And then… dry it off with a towel. Thrilling stuff.”

“Alright, next letter: ‘Dear Andy, if you were stranded on a moon with only one condiment, which would you bring?’” He stared at it for a moment before setting it aside. “We’re… not doing that one.”

Andy could practically hear his ratings dropping by the second. Oh well, there were bound to be a few duds in a bag this big. He just had to move on quickly and hope his viewers were still awake.

“Ok, next up we have a letter from... Peter! ‘What’s up, Andy! Love your show. What’s it like having hundreds of eyes on you every day?’”

Finally, a real question.

“It’s pretty exciting,” Andy said with pride. “I get to come on this show daily, knowing I’ve got a bunch of fans waiting to hear what I have to say. I love making the watchdogs happy, even if I’m just interviewing folks around the ship.”

The rest of the letters were a mixed bag of genuine fan mail, mild confusion, and one watchdog who thought this was a lunch suggestion box. But one question kept popping up: When’s your next big interview?

“My next big interview? I… uh, I don’t know yet. I’ve sent requests to interview Lord Hater again, but I haven’t heard back from him yet… Who else would agree to it?”

Andy stared at the dozens of letters on his lap asking for an exclusive interview, going over the options in his head. Lord Hater was pretty much impossible to reach. The chef was reliable, but he didn’t qualify as a big name for an interview. He needed someone high up, but not unreachable.

“What about Commander Peepers?”

The watchdog behind the camera asked, peeking out from behind the tripod. Andy froze.

“Commander Peepers? Are you kidding me? He hates my guts. I’m pretty sure he would shoot me into space before even considering that!”

The watchdog shrugged. “I’m just sayin’. Nobody really knows much about the guy other than the fact that he loves to make everyone miserable. If you got him on your show, everybody would tune in to see what his deal is.”

Cha-ching! Andy’s eye lit up as he imagined the ratings spike if he could get Peepers on his show. He had to get Peepers to agree to an interview.

“Well, in that case…” Andy looked at the camera with an overconfident grin.

“Alright, folks! That’s all for today! Thank you for all the wonderful messages. Due to popular demand, I’ll be bringing on a special guest in the near future. Tune in next week for an exclusive interview with Commander Peepers!”

Andy’s heart raced. He hadn’t thought about how to convince Peepers yet, but the viewers deserved it.

The cameras clicked off, and Andy’s grin froze. His sweaty hand fumbled the microphone. It seemed the camera had lent him confidence that was now very much gone.

“Oh grop,” he whispered, as though the camera might still be listening.

“I just promised a live interview with Commander Peepers to all my viewers!! How am I supposed to get him to agree to that?!”

While Andy was panicking, the camera watchdog was busy putting away the camera equipment.

“It’s not that bad. Just tell them you won’t be able to get him to come.”

“Are you kidding me?? I can’t do that to them!” Andy jumped out of his swivel chair and paced around like a caged animal, “My show is all that I have and if the watchdogs can’t trust me, they won’t watch me anymore, and if I don’t have any viewers, I’ll become an outcast, and if I’m an outcast, I’ll be forced to sleep in the ship’s prison and eat nothing but the scraps from the cafeteria for my whole life!!!”

The alarmed host shook his cameraman’s shoulders, before slumping against him dramatically.

“You need to pull yourself together, Andy.” The watchdog said flatly, peeling Andy off himself. “Just find Peepers and talk to him. He’s reasonable sometimes… maybe.”

Andy took a deep breath and propped himself against a wall to regain his composure.

“Right… easy. I just have to talk with the guy who despises me. Simple enough.”

The camera watchdog raised an eyebrow but decided against pointing out how bad an idea this was. He slung the camera over his shoulder and left with a final, “Good luck with that.”

The camera watchdog raised an eyebrow but said nothing, slinging the camera over his shoulder. “Good luck with that,” he muttered as he left.

Andy clutched his microphone and started toward Peepers' office, practicing his lines under his breath. “Hey, commander. How would you feel about an exclusive interview on my show? Ugh– no! Too casual. Commander Peepers, please, PLEASE come on my show! Wait… too desperate.”

He talked to himself the entire time, until finally, he was at Peepers’ door. He knocked a couple times, anxiously adjusting his collar as he muttered his lines under his breath.

The chair inside scraped back, boots clicked across the floor, and the door opened to reveal Commander Peepers. Initially, his face was neutral, but as soon as he realized that it was Andy, his expression soured.

“Andy. Why are you abandoning your post?”

Andy laughed nervously and pushed past the commander, ignoring the piercing glare Peepers gave him as he invited himself into the office.

“Heh, well. Have I got a funny story for you!” Andy’s palms got sweaty as Peepers’ eye narrowed. “You see– uh– I may have promised a live interview with a certain someone.”

“I’ve already told you countless times: Lord Hater is not going to appear on your dumb watchdog show.” Peepers pinched his eyelid, rubbing it as if to soothe his irritation.

Andy tried to play it cool, scanning the papers on Peepers' desk, though every word felt like a struggle to choke out. “Well! That’s the– heh, funny part. I was hoping that I could get… you… to come on my show.”

Peepers looked up like Andy had just confessed to launching a missile at the ship.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah… funny, right? …Commander?” Andy’s skin prickled with goosebumps as he forced a smile, though it was purely out of fear.

“You can’t be serious.” Peepers’ tone was calm, terrifyingly so, as he stepped closer. “You barge into my office after we let you keep your show. And now you have the audacity to ask me to humiliate myself on your mediocre excuse for television?”

Peepers had Andy backed against the wall. The tension was so thick that Andy’s gulp sounded like a cannon shot. Despite being shorter, Peepers radiated intimidation.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t demote you right now.”

“I—uh… well, you see…” Andy stammered, grasping for words. “It would… boost your popularity among the watchdogs?”

“Why would I care about that?” Peepers snapped, arms crossing over his chest.

“As of right now, most of the watchdogs barely respect you. They kind of just listen out of… fear. Not that that’s bad! It’s just…” Andy tiptoed around his critique, feeling his anxiety spike, “you just… aren’t very popular.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I’m a bad commander?”

“No! I mean– Nobody likes you.”

The silence that followed could have been bottled and sold as pure, concentrated doom.

Peepers’ fists clenched, and his glare narrowed. “That’s rich, coming from the ship’s self-appointed entertainment disaster.” His voice had a dangerous edge to it, as though he was seconds away from ordering someone to be shot into space. “I’m trying to run an evil empire, I don’t need to worry about winning a stupid popularity contest! Especially not on camera in front of dozens of watchdogs.”

“Hundreds,” Andy murmured under his breath, trying to ignore the goosebumps forming on his skin.

Peepers froze for a fraction of a second, his shoulders stiffening just enough to betray him. “Hundreds, thousands– who cares?” He snapped, turning away a bit too quickly.

Andy stared at his commander’s back in confusion. Just moments ago, Peepers seemed ready to tear him apart, yet now he was backing down? Something wasn’t adding up.

The gears in Andy’s head worked overtime as he tried to figure out what was wrong. Then it hit him. “Ohhh…”

A grin spread across Andy’s face. “I know what your problem is.”

“What?” Peepers seemed slightly surprised, but he stood his ground, turning back to face Andy.

“You have stage fright!” Andy pointed at Peepers as if he’d just solved the universe’s greatest mystery, only to get a dumbfounded stare in return.

“What.”

There was a hint of utter disbelief in Peepers’ voice, as if Andy had just claimed the moon was made of cheese.

That didn’t bother Andy, however. “Yeah, you got all tense when I told you how many watchdogs watch my show. You’re totally afraid of being in front of a crowd!”

“Andy.”

Peepers took a step closer, his expression as serious as a judge about to hand down a sentence. Andy blinked and tilted his head, slightly confused by the shift in Peepers’ demeanor.

“Yes…?”

“Do you know what my job is?”

“Uh… You’re the commander.”

“Exactly. And what do I do as a commander?”

“You lead the watchdogs.”

“Right.” Peepers’ irritation was barely contained, his voice tight and sharp. “So tell me, exactly, how am I supposed to be afraid of crowds when I debrief the watchdogs before every fight? When I’ve addressed the entire army during every major battle? When I’ve been on a stage, under SPOTLIGHTS, in front of hundreds of watchdogs more times than I can count?!”

His voice rose with each word until he practically vibrated with fury. The commander threw his arms out in exasperation. “Stage fright? Me?? That…that is, without a doubt, the stupidest thing you’ve said all week.” He paused, scanning Andy’s face. “And I’m including that time you insisted space was flat.”

Andy froze, blinking at Peepers, trying to process the verbal explosion.

“Ok, ok. So you’re not afraid of crowds. Got it. So it’s, uh…” Andy’s eye lit up. “Ohh, I know! You’re afraid of looking short on camera, aren’t you?”

Peepers stared, clearly offended. “...Excuse me?!”

“You’re excused,” Andy said quickly, marking Peepers’ height in the air with his hand. “Let me tell you, that’s not just the camera–”

The commander shoved his hand away with a sharp jerk, absolutely furious.

“NO! I DON’T CARE ABOUT CROWDS OR HOW I LOOK ON CAMERA! I HATE THE FLASH, YOU MORON!!” Peepers’ shout cracked the stillness of the office, echoing off the walls.

Peepers froze, too caught up in his rage to realize what he said until it was too late.

Silence fell like a heavy blanket. Andy blinked rapidly, trying to gauge whether he should speak or just retreat. His throat felt tight, and he could hear the faint beat of his own racing heart.

“You… you don’t like cameras because of the flash?” Andy finally whispered, his voice smaller than usual.

Peepers looked away, arms tightly crossed, gaze narrowing. “No. I don’t.” The words sounded clipped, defensive… like they hurt to say.

Andy swallowed, feeling the weight of the admission hang in the air between them. He didn’t rush, didn’t make a joke. He just let the silence stretch, giving Peepers space while trying to keep from flinching under that piercing stare.

“Aren’t you going to tell me how stupid that is? That I’m weak for being afraid of something as dumb as a camera flash?” Peepers’ voice cut sharply through the quiet, testing Andy.

“Well… it sounds silly, but it’s not stupid,” Andy said gently, stepping forward just slightly, careful not to invade Peepers' space.

Peepers clenched his fists, his glare hiding his pain. “Oh yeah? So you’re perfectly fine making fun of my height, but suddenly fearing camera flashes is off-limits for your mockery?”

Andy flinched at the accusation, but held his ground. “I didn’t know it bothered you… not the fear itself, the height thing. I didn’t realize it actually… hurt you.”

The commander’s scornful glare softened just a fraction, though his arms remained crossed. Andy seized the moment, his voice careful, earnest. “I was just messing around. I wanted to ease the tension… not… make it worse. I don’t think you’re any less of a commander because you’re short.”

Peepers narrowed his glare at the height comment.

“I’m bad at… this,” Andy admitted quietly. “Saying sorry. But I am. For real.”

The corner of Peepers’ eyelid twitched. Then, slowly, the sharpness in his expression dulled. “Whatever, Andy. Just… get out of my office.”

Suddenly, his eye widened as he got an idea. “What if I helped you through your fear? If you get over it, then maybe you can come to my interview!”

Peepers hesitated, his mind turning the idea over, weighing curiosity against caution. The tension stretched like a tightrope. Finally, he exhaled slowly.

“You really want me to do that interview, huh?”

Andy laughed softly, sheepishly. “More than you know.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

Andy’s smile widened before he spun on his heel and headed for the door. “Come on, I’ve got just the thing in my studio.”

Peepers hesitated, watching the watchdog disappear into the corridor. Curiosity tugged harder than caution, and before he knew it, he was following the faint clatter of Andy’s boots.

His “studio”, if you could call it that, looked more like a storage closet than a security room. It was clear that Andy only took the time to organize any area that could be seen by the camera. Out of the camera’s view were boxes stacked precariously, and cables that snaked across the floor.

Peepers stopped just inside the doorway, picking his path like he was crossing a minefield. He lifted one foot over a tangle of wires before giving Andy a flat stare. “So, how exactly are you planning to fix me?”

Andy wove carefully through the chaos to pull a second chair from behind a stack of boxes. He sat down and gestured for Peepers to join him, keeping his tone light but steady. “First, I want to know a little more about your fear.”

Peepers’ gaze flicked warily to the small digital camera Andy had pulled from a drawer. His eye darted to it as though expecting it to leap off the desk and attack.

“Like what?” he asked cautiously, every word clipped.

“Is it just the flash that bothers you? Or the camera too?” Andy asked gently, careful not to point it at Peepers.

Peepers glanced down at the device, then back up, eye tired. “Just the flash,” he muttered.

Without thinking, Andy lifted the camera as if to test him. Peepers gripped his chair and squeezed his eye shut, a shudder running through him. Andy’s chest tightened. He hadn’t expected such a physical reaction over something so small.

“Sorry,” Andy murmured, lowering the camera to his lap. “I just wanted to check. What made you so afraid?”

Peepers opened his eye just enough to glare, but the edge of his anger seemed to waver.

“That is classified information.” he said tensely.

Andy raised his right hand in a solemn, exaggerated gesture. “I swear I won’t make fun. Watchdog’s honor.”

A slow sigh escaped Peepers. “It’s… stupid. There was this one time I tried to stop Wander for Lord Hater. I aimed my laser gun at him and was about to shoot, but…”

He looked away, embarrassed by his next words. “He picked me up and called me cute! Then his stupid zbornak took a photo of me in his hat and completely blinded me with the flash! And they danced while all the watchdogs laughed and pointed at me!!”

Peepers’ gaze flicked back to Andy, bracing for ridicule. But instead, Andy just gave him a quiet, understanding look.

“I guess I can see how that would be… traumatic,” Andy said gently.

He rested his chin in his hand for a moment, forcing himself not to joke. This wasn’t the time to tease. Not if he wanted Peepers to keep talking.

“What if,” Andy said slowly, “you started off behind the camera, so you can still see the flash, but it won’t be directed right at you?”

Peepers shifted in his seat, hesitant but willing. He took the camera from Andy, brushing his hand over the buttons to familiarize himself, then aimed it at Andy.

“Ready?”

Andy nodded. “Go ahead.”

Peepers aimed carefully, took a deep breath, and pressed the button.

Click

The flash was mild compared to what he’d faced, but Peepers studied Andy’s reaction carefully

Andy found the commander’s concern a little sweet. He smiled back as he reassured Peepers.

“See? I’m okay,” Andy said softly.

The commander’s gaze softened just a bit. Andy leaned forward, resting an arm on the chair. “Here’s a tip: blink just before the flash hits. Helps protect your eye. Also, try not looking directly at it. Focus on something nearby. And… relax your face and breathe. Like calming down before a fight.”

Peepers tilted his head, considering, though skepticism lingered.

“Want to give it a try?” Andy asked.

Peepers handed the camera back, eye focused. He inhaled slowly, watching as Andy aimed the camera in his direction. The commander had to force himself to look off to the side and blink like Andy had suggested.

“Three… Two… One!”

Andy snapped the photo. Peepers instinctively shut his eye at the flash, unable to keep his composure.

“Okay, so maybe it’ll take a bit longer to get over your fear,” Andy muttered softly, setting the camera down.

Peepers shifted his gaze away from Andy, disappointed in himself.

“Hey, it’s okay!” Andy reassured Peepers, gently patting his shoulder. “So what if it didn’t work on the first try? You got through the whole count before the flash. That’s progress.”

The commander didn’t seem too convinced. “Progress would be not flinching at all.”

“Progress is still progress. And hey, you didn’t yell or throw the camera, so we’re ahead of schedule.”

“There’s a schedule involved now?” Peepers raised an eyebrow, slightly amused by the concept.

Andy nodded firmly. “I can try to help you out every day this week. Whenever you have the time, of course.”

Peepers paused. “So… you want me on camera by the end of the week?”

“Well…” Andy’s gaze wandered away from Peepers, “I did promise all my viewers that I would interview you next week…”

“Looks like I’ll be stuck seeing you all week, then,” Peepers said, mock groaning, but a faint glimpse of amusement shimmered in his eye. “Lucky me.”

“You mean it?!” Andy’s grin stretched wide. “This is gonna do wonders for my ratings! Oh– and for you too, of course.”

Peepers held back a smile, finding his enthusiasm endearing. “Why do you care about your ratings? It’s not like the watchdogs have other programs to watch.”

Andy blinked at Peepers, clearly unfamiliar with what ratings actually were.

“You mean you don’t–” Peepers noticed Andy’s blatant confusion, but he didn’t feel like explaining anything at the moment, so he played along. “You know what. Never mind. Let’s bring your ratings up.”

For the next week, Andy and Peepers spent a couple hours a day trying to get rid of Peepers’ fear of camera flashes. Oddly enough, Peepers found himself enjoying his time with Andy despite hating his guts just a few days before.

Then the actual day of the interview came. Time to go live in front of the whole ship.

Andy skipped into the security office with two cups of coffee. Peepers was already seated, posture rigid, staring at the empty space where the camera would soon be. Andy passed him a cup before setting his own down on the console.

Hours earlier, Andy had set up lights to slowly shift in brightness. By now, Peepers had barely noticed they’d reached full strength… barely.

“Guess what, commander!” Andy leaned forward in his seat, his eye gleaming with excitement.

“What?” Peepers eyed him warily. “Did you accidentally drink a whole pot of coffee?”

“No, I’m just excited!” Andy whipped out a notepad and clicked his pen. “I took notes from every discussion we’ve had so the interview would be personalized to you. Don’t worry, I won’t mention anything you said was ‘off limits,’ but I’ve still got some pretty juicy questions the watchdogs will love! Like– what do you think of this one?”

Peepers squinted as Andy shoved a note in his face. “‘What is your favorite hobby?’ That’s your juicy question? Really?”

Andy nodded, taking his note pad back. “Of course! One of the things the watchdogs want to know most is what you do as the commander when you aren’t… uh- commanding.”

“Well, I guess I like to-” Peepers was cut off by Andy pressing a finger to his eyelid.

“SHHH- Not yet! Save it for the interview so they can get my live reaction.”

“You’re such an idiot…” Peepers muttered as Andy pulled his finger away.

“We start in five. I’m still waiting for the camera guy to show up.”

“Camera guy?”

“Yeah, I’ve got this guy who comes in and records my shows so long as I get him lunch. Don’t know his name though.”

“That’s assuring…”

“Don’t worry, commander! Just breathe, blink, and don’t stare at the light. You’ll do fine.”

Peepers tried to steady his breathing. The lights felt hotter now, the edges of his vision sharp with white. Not the time to panic.

Within minutes, the camera watchdog came into the security room and set up the camera. The red ‘LIVE’ sign blinked on, and Andy looked completely natural on camera. Peepers, however, was straightened, just like they practiced, but the first couple of questions still came out stiff and overly formal. Andy, of course, made it impossible to stay tense by throwing in the occasional ridiculous aside, teasing him just enough to get a smirk.

By the halfway mark, Peepers was answering more easily, leaning forward when he got passionate about a topic, relaxing back when Andy’s playful jabs pulled a laugh. And, most important, he wasn’t even thinking about the bright lights around him!

When Andy finally wrapped things up and the camera clicked off, Peepers looked more exhausted than he wanted to admit… but also less haunted than when he’d walked in.

“Thank you again for doing this for me.” Andy turned to Peepers with a smile. “I’m glad you went through with it, even if you’re not completely over your fear yet.”

“Andy,” Peepers said slowly, meeting his gaze. “It’s… fine. I actually felt more comfortable around cameras today than I have in a long time. So… thanks.”

Andy lit up at the admission, leaning over the arm of his chair. “Aww, do you mean it, commander?”

Peepers cleared his throat and angled his face away. “Yeah, yeah. No need to get sappy about it.”

“Oh, right! Almost forgot.” Andy hopped down and rummaged in the corner before returning with a small gift bag. “Here. For you.”

“For me?” Peepers frowned, but peeked inside. A pair of boots, nearly identical to his usual red ones, except the soles were just a touch thicker. Subtle enough for most Watchdogs to miss… unless you happened to be exactly two feet tall.

Peepers stared at them for a long moment before glancing up. “You—” He hesitated, his voice softening. “…Thanks, Andy.”

“You like them?” Andy asked, eye bright.

“They’re… very nice. Maybe you’re not completely useless.”

Andy chuckled. “Careful, commander. Keep talking like that and people will think you like me.”

“Ugh. Perish the thought.” But he didn’t take his eye off the boots.

The next day, Peepers sat in his office enjoying a rare, peaceful morning. Not in silence, however, as The Eye on the Skull Ship played softly in the background. He would insist it was just for “ambient noise,” but the new boots told a different story, giving him that extra inch toward average Watchdog height. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------