Something else entirely indeed.
After you leave Olympus Mons and finally figure out that he’s asking you to take him home, you set a course to Neptune, and quickly, lest he drag out that awful guitar again. You park your ship beside one of the many lakes on his family’s property. The Prince runs into the cabin right up the hill and grabs a fishing pole.
Great. We’re fishing now? Most boring sport ever. It will probably be hours before we catch anyth-
You look up as he’s proudly unhooking a rather large silver and blue fish from the end of his line. “Hey Neptuna! Nice to see you again. Will you do the honors?”
The fish gives a huff that sounded like a cross between bubbles and a “harmuph” and said, “Next time, just ASK ME, will ya? I have enough lip piercings, thank you very much…” However rude the inquiry was, Neptuna was still willing to oblige, royalty has it’s perks, you suppose. While you have an app on your space phone that would accomplish the very same thing, you have to admit watching a fish do it is rather… unique.
After Neptuna works it’s magic, the Prince begins to play. At first, it’s the most mind-blowingly epic music you’ve ever heard… and then after a while, you think the toast is starting to wear off, FINALLY. Now, instead of sounding like Woodstock, it’s more like 3 hours into a Phish show where it’s just the same three chords over and over with some random esoteric meaning-of-life lyrics thrown in haphazardly to sound important and cool. The other guys were still totally digging it, so whatever was in that NOT DRUGS box was still in effect, obviously, no one could listen to this drivel sober.
Mercifully, eventually after the dawning of a new age, the Aquarius pauses. “Hey, man, do you have anything to eat? I’m staaaaaarving!”
A brilliant though pops in your head. “I’ve got just the thing, I’ll be right back.”
You grab your frakking toaster from the ship, pop the batteries in, and it whirrs back to life. “-more and I just have, NEEDS, you know.”
“Yes, I know, and I’m never going to be able to fulfil that need. But I’ve found someone who can.” As you approach the Prince, you hold out your frenemy toaster to him to introduce the two. “Toaster, meet Prince Aquarius. Prince, toaster.”
It is a match made in heaven. The two become fast friends, and while you advise him to NEVER EVER EVER eat anything that the toaster claims would make you smaller, you figure he’d the kind of guy that will probably end up trying it at least once. In trade, the Prince even gives you HIS toaster, which is a fancy, high-end, but definitely not sentient model. Perfect.
After bidding them farewell before they realize that you have gotten the better part of the deal, you saunter into your mess hall, plug the toaster in the wall, and microwave yourself a can of soup, knowing that nothing and no one will ever nag you for your bread-related choices ever again.