Schlock Fury

Schlock Fury

The burdens of command are many. It’s why I prefer to shoot first and hail later. Case in point - this Vesuvian jackass in our way. In our way being relative when it’s space, but still he’s trying to deny us access to what’s ostensibly a lifeless rock.

“Weapons, shoot this prick.”

“Sir?” said the weapons officer. I forget her name. She’s new and already questioning my means. 

“What’s not to understand lieutenant? We have guns, use them.”

“But sir they’re claiming the asteroid we’re headed to is a birthstone and used by their people for centuries,” replied the weapons officer voice slightly steadier. 

“Rocks in space are no place to be fornicating. I should know,” I said with great exasperation and without lifting my head from my hand. “Now shoot them and tell them that. In that order.”

“Sir?”

I could see eyes rolling around the bridge. My other officers knew what was up. But the rookie had to go questioning protocol, as if that weren’t drilled into them enough at the academy. So I finally sat up straight, took a sip of whatever was in my cup and then remembered it was last nights whiskey. Which left me both sadden and glad. Sadden because I didn’t finish it before, but glad I had some now.

“Lieu…Lieutenant…”

“Wu, sir.”

“Look here LuWu, I’ve my orders, which in turn means you’ve got your orders. And some little space-pervert isn’t going to keep us from doing them now is he.”

At this point my science officer chimed in, “No need to kink shame sir.”

“Quite right Quincy, quite right. Thank you.”

I turned back to the lieutenant, “Tell the gentleman with the highly inconvenient sexual proclivities he has 3 seconds to move his rock or we’ll blast it to smithereens.”

“I don’t think the birth rock has anything to do with sex, sir.”

“Are you telling me Vesuvians reproduce asexually? That’s even worse! Shoot that bastard and his coital-crusted space debris this instant!”


Today’s art is courtesy of Adam Taylor from Los Angeles, California.

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