Solauren wrote:Man, now I have this image of Tuvok dressed up all pimp
'Yo, Cyber-pimping, ain't easy!'
I keep picturing Tuvok acting like Ordell Robbie (Samuel L. Jackson in 'Jackie Brown') and promoting his goods the way Ordell did with the guns featured in 'Chicks With Guns'.
Hopefully, we'll have a scene in which Tuvok goes all the way with the Samuel L. Jackson impersonation and recite Ezekiel 25:17 before putting a bullet in Neelix's genitals.
Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.
They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)
Aside from the phrase "Warp Core Breach", the worst thing a crewman could hear aboard
a starship was the word "epidemic." In the two intervening days since Chakotay first visited the Doctor, the Tzenkethi Crotch Rot had infected almost half of the ship and various lotions and ointments were being replicated around the clock to deal with the abominable groin itch that accompanied it. Even surgically removing infected flesh did little good, as the infection itself was rooted deep under the skin.
The reasons behind the outbreak culminated into the perfect storm of disease, it was almost literally a tsunami of weeping sores, bloodied scratch marks, oozing pustules, and necrosis. The public toilet just off of the bridge had apparently not been cleaned in many weeks. The former Maquis in charge of keeping the head cleaned had been killed during an attack by the Vidiians months ago when a band of Vidiian perverts had stormed the ship and began randomly stealing and attaching sexual organs to various parts of their own anatomy. However, his death was not registered in the ship's logs because quite frankly nobody gave a shit about him and they assumed he was doing a terrible job. Aside from the hygiene issues, one Belanna Torres had been falsifying maintenance reports on the toilet itself, claiming it had been fixed when it hadn't, and thus the germs were given an ideal cesspool to marinate in. Finally, one Ensign Blubberass, who suffered from a very mild form of Tzenkethi Crotch Rot that went unnoticed because it remained hidden deep within the folds of fat he had allowed himself to accumulate, had taken a liking to masturbating in that filthy toilet during the late evening bridge watch by rubbing his cock in between the folds of fat inside his thighs. This scraped the bacteria from his own body and into the steaming pool of filth below.
Chakotay, suffering from acute diarrhea after a particularly bad meal made by Neelix was forced to use that toilet, he also unintentionally caused the further spread of the disease by flushing the unfixed toilet, causing a critical sewage reflux that had backed up into every toilet, and infected anyone who had taken a shit for several hours after it happened. His own genitals were sprayed and infected by his own rancid feces as the toilet backed up violently due to a quantum repolarization of the tachyon matrices connected the pipes.
Now, with the senior staff gathered in the meeting room and the Doctor connected from sickbay with a video link, the planning to decrustify the collective crotch of Voyager had begun.
Tuvok, whose earnings from his holo-whore business had plummeted as fear of contracting “The Rot” along with bleeding scabbed up customer penises had all but wiped out his target market, was far more proactive than usual.
“Isn’t the normal treatment for this shit a radiation burst? Can’t we just irradiate the ship?”
“The radiation required is particularly lethal in large doses, just five seconds of exposure can turn a puppy into a thin watery soup best suited for consumption by the elderly,” replied the Doctor.
Tom Paris, who was attempting to discretely scratch his loins with the corner of his datapad countered. “Well we could have the whole crew wear crotchless radiation suits…say where’s Harry he could help me design them.”
“Ensign Kim has been confined to quarters,” Janeway said with a dead serious look on her face. “He is one of the few uninfected and I intend to keep him that way.”
The open secret that Harry was being manipulated into being Janeway’s bitchboy got that much more open, but nobody questioned it lest Janeway use her command codes to cut off life support to their quarters. But while the relationship was known, what was not known is that Harry was not being confined to his own quarters, but rather Janway’s quarters. Where he had been stripped naked and completely wrapped in saran wrap and bound to a table so tightly that he could hardly breathe.
“Chaoktay this is your entire fucking fault!” Torres screamed as she clawed at her crotch like a psychotic animal, tearing open fresh wounds that oozed pus and stained her jumpsuit.
“Go smoke your pipe Michael Phelps,” Chakotay said, using ancient 21st century Earth slang. “What I want to know is, what is that dipshit doing in here?” He cursed, pointing to Neelix who was sitting happily in the corner wrapping his legs behind his head and apparently sniffing his own farts.
“There’s a good reason I sent him down there,” the Doctor said. “Mr. Neelix has taken about fourteen shits in the past three days and has not developed any symptoms. I believe that he is immune to the disease, but it will require further medical experimentation in order to confirm this.”
Suddenly the staff heard a low and guttural gasp as Janeway moaned deeply. The thought of performing medical experiments on a member of her crew had made her quite wet, and she was relieved that she had not yet contracted the disease, preferring to make her waste on the naked back of one Harry Kim.
“Do your experiments Doctor, I’ll be visiting Ensign Kim in quarantine.” Janeway said. “Contact me when you have something. The rest of you make yourselves fucking useful, we still have a ship to maintain.”
Janeway immediately hurried out of the room, not even bothering to maintain her composure as the stress relief offered by the bound and gagged Harry Kim was too tempting. The rest of the crew sat there in silence, a wet slurpy sounding fart echoed throughout the room as Neelix again let one out for his own pleasure. It was a gurgling fart that convinced several of the crew that he was having a fecal abortion.
Tuvok was the first to stand up, and he immediately aimed his phaser at Neelix, who was too busy attempting to lick the stained section of his trousers surrounding his asshole to notice.
“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.” He said as the stun blast struck Neelix, overwhelming his nervous system and knocking him out cold. Tuvok slapped his badge. “Tuvok to transporter room one, lock on to the Shithead,” the nickname unmistakenly identified Neelix “and beam his dumb ass over to sickbay.”
Her cybernetic implants protecting her from the Tzenkethi Crotch Rot, Seven of Nine decided to use her free time in order to conduct tests on the disease organism, believing it would be more efficient to focus on getting the rest of the ship back to normal operating standards.
However, she was finding it hard to concentrate, because she had a hard time caring even one iota about the rest of the Voyager crew.
“Attachment is irrelevant, personal grudges are irrelevant, getting this ship back to peak efficiency matters most…” she attempted to tell herself.
But even her ultimate goal of improving the ship was growing less and less appealing. Ever since her tryst with Belanna Torres, and the sick and twisted thrill she got from nearly killing a man on the holodeck, Seven of Nine was quickly discovering that she did not give a flying fuck about her duties aboard Voyager, and she was quickly coming to the conclusions that, one way or another, they would all die in an easily preventable accident anyway.
So Seven of Nine decided to take a course of action that had never been an option to her as a Borg, she decided to go have fun instead, and to that end she decided to begin her physical experimentation into one of the fetishes she had discovered on Maquispedia.
Captiofutuoilia, a niche fetish rumored to be secretly popular on Cardassia and Romulus, was a rough latin translation from an ancient fetish where people would be duped into having sex with each other, back in ancient times it had been a way to force marriage upon unwilling suitors, and in the late 21st century it had become popular amongst women who wanted to watch drunken fratboys suck each other off. The idea that a pair of individual minds could be manipulated into something normally anathema to them was intensely thrilling to Seven, so much so that she had taken days to figure out her first targets, and still had no answer. At first she had pegged Tom and Harry, before realizing that they would probably already end up engaging in such an act without her machinations.
The thrill would not come without some sport, and the vicious spread of the Tzenkethi Crotch Rot had limited her prospects, but there were still two that remained uninfected that had her eye.
She sighed loudly, despite her intellect; she was not adept at human manipulation. Her ginormous rack would not be enough to dupe two unsuspecting crewmen into going where they had never gone before.
“I don’t know who exactly this ‘Jesus Christ’ character is that you people seem to invoke so often around me doctor, but may I ask…”
“I recommend Mr. Neelix that if you want to be finished with these tests as quickly as possible that you keep your proverbial piehole shut.” The doctor said, his artificial intelligence matrix strained as even its patience subprogramming was being pushed beyond its limits while in contact with the Talaxian.
“Pie you say? What I delightful idea! I have a recipe for a Klumerian Cuticle Pie that is just…zzzzZzzzZZzzzz…”
While the addition of the chemical compound potentially compromised his experiments, the hypospray had the greatly appreciated effect of shutting Neelix the hell up. The doctor watched carefully as he began injecting copious amounts of the Tzenkethi Crotch Rot into Neelix’s bloodstream.
What he saw was amazing, the disease organisms were attacking the cells as they would any other being, but after consuming a small portion of Neelix’s cells they would just roll over and die, not unlike those who ate Neelix’s cooking. Further analysis would show that Talaxian DNA was inherently fatal to the disease organisms, the dying cells would even refuse to reproduce as if they had lost the will to live.
Talaxian DNA was the answer, now the only question the Doctor had left was where to acquire enough Talaxian DNA without killing Neelix, pleasant as the idea was. Thinking quickly, the Doctor awakened Neelix with another hypospray.
“I’m awake? But I was having the most pleasant dream! I was having a threesome with my sisters and…”
The Doctor immediately knocked Neelix out again, giving him an additional dose so that he could have him beamed to the opposite end of the ship without resistance. He would have to get his information instead from the logs of Neelix’s ship, copied and saved to Voyager’s own database.
Two days and five thousands replicated gallons of aloe-vera lotion later, Voyager had arrived at a Talaxian Space Station in a nearby sector.
“You and Janeway have kept the entire crew in the fuckin’ dark about this way too long doc. We spent two days off course going away from home and now the sensors are showing that we’re at a space station that the Captain says is full of TALAXIANS. Why the forty thee Cardassian hells of flaming shit are we going to a space station full of goddamn Neelixes?!?!” Chakotay asked the doctor via the intercom.
“It’s simple really; Talaxian bodily fluids on their own are a potent remedy for the blight on your genitalia. That station is a ready supply.”
“I hate Talaxians as much as the next guy, but what are we supposed to do, get them to bleed on the deck and then rub it on our crotches?”
“Actually Chakotay, the Talaxian Saliva will be far more effective than the blood. Captain Janeway has already made advance contact with the station’s ‘representatives’ and made the necessary arrangements.”
“Haha yeah right what did she do arrange for everyone on the ship to get a blowjob from one of those nasty creatures. Seriously doc lay it on me.”
“While the Captain did place a level of secrecy on this mission, I do not see the harm in commending you on the accuracy of you speculation.”
His heart sank, and suddenly Chakotay had the urge to read the assisted suicide pamphlet handed out early after the stranding, a thinly veiled plot by Janeway to increase crew misery and reduce resource consumption early in the journey.
Janeway looked down into the cargo bay and was pleased. The Talaxian “space station” was actually a brothel on the fringes of their inhabited space. With twelve Talaxian whores working nonstop they could cure the crew in less than a day. Janeway had offered to provide phaser rifles and the technology to build and maintain them in exchange, but she had tampered with the rifles to ensure that they would blow up and kill whoever tried to use them. She had been burned by pimps before and swore never to let that happen again.
Her gaze affixed on one Tom Paris, who was squirming uncomfortably as his whore attempted to arouse him by rubbing her four saggy and fur covered tits in his face. His expression was that of a man who had just thrown up is his mouth and was forced to swallow it back down. Three chairs over, Belanna Torres had just finished receiving cunnilingus and was being dragged away by Tuvok after attempting to beat the whore to death as her shame overwhelmed her.
As a reward she had allowed Neelix to have his own whore, a thirteenth girl who was excessively overweight and smelled like rotting seafood, a scent which was highly arousing to Talaxian males. The two were allowed to copulate in the mess hall and the fact that they were doing so was not concealed, nobody would ever eat in there again without wondering if they were eating on a table that the two Talaxians had defiled.
Overwhelming with a sick joy from her torture of the crew, Janeway returned to her quarters, eager to take the process of making a man out of Harry Kim to the next level. But when she returned she saw the limp, lifeless body of the young ensign on the ministrations table. In her haste to torment the crew, she had forgotten to remove the saran wrap from over his face and he had suffocated to death.
“Oh fuck…not again.” Janeway said as she felt a terrible headache coming on.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little." -George Carlin (1937-2008)
"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting." -Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.
Two small edits made to previous chapters tying them together subtly. See if you can spot them.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little." -George Carlin (1937-2008)
"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting." -Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.
UPF was bad enough, the Janeway sections had me crawling the walls ..... so why the fuck did I start reading this????
I need my head examined.
So I stare wistfully at the Lightning for a couple of minutes. Two missiles, sharply raked razor-thin wings, a huge, pregnant belly full of fuel, and the two screamingly powerful engines that once rammed it from a cold start to a thousand miles per hour in under a minute. Life would be so much easier if our adverseries could be dealt with by supersonic death on wings - but alas, Human resources aren't so easily defeated.
Why do I have this mental image of a room on Voyager having been coverted to a cloning chamber for making replacement Harry's
You're not the only one. If we're lucky, we'll end up with a "defective" Harry Kim who thinks he's Harry Callahan and will use a harpoon gun to literally nail Janeway to the wall of her room.
Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.
They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)
Janeway was running out of time, the decaying in Harry’s supple Asian cells had already begun in earnest and it wouldn’t be too long before he was completely useless to her. She felt his body, touching it as lightly as possible. “Good, he’s still warm…” she said to herself. The Captain activated her communicator and placed it on Harry’s lifeless body before grabbing a mysterious cylinder from her closet and rushing out of her quarters to the nearest transporter, making sure the lock on her door was activated as well. The plan to restore Harry Kim without anyone noticing wouldn’t work if somebody found him dead on her ministrations table.
Since there were no transports to be scheduled that day, and none could happen without her authorization, she knew she would have uninterrupted access. The datapad she had grabbed was a secretly obtained transporter pattern buffer with its own internal power source. Stored in the buffer was the pattern of a previous incarnation of one Harry Kim, all she needed to make the copy complete was enough compatible physical matter in order to build her creation.
That was where the lifeless body of Harry Kim the seventh would come in, the dead Harry would be rejuvenated as it was filtered through the transporter pattern buffer and reorganized into a Harry Kim that was a perfect replica in almost every way, save for having no memory of the past few days because the cloned Harry would have never actually experienced that time.
Although she acknowledged her mistake, she was still infuriated that she would have to once again go through with the task of properly training Harry Kim to be a proper subordinate.
At her command, the transporter energized, and nude body of Harry began to materialize on the pad. Despite her stress, Janeway felt a twinge of excitement in her loins as she pulverized scientific ethics to a pulp in order to accomplish the unnatural.
His eyes opened, and Ensign Harry Kim was officially reborn.
“C…Captain? What am I doing in the transporter room?”
Janeway sighed and wiped some perspiration from her forehead. “I’m not sure Ensign but whatever sordid activity you were involved in apparently didn’t involve your clothes.”
The transporter-clone realized his nudity and covered his genitals with his hands, his face blushing terribly. “Oh….Oh shit! I don’t know….I mean…the last thing I remember is coming in here to beam aboard that derelict alien ship looking for salvage.
Harry, in his stupor, failed to notice the Captain’s frown as he tried to retrace his steps. Janeway grit her teeth. She remembered that mission took place well over six months ago, and she had apparently failed to update her “copy” of Harry Kim in the meantime.
“Well, it’s like my father always said. Nobody can distinguish one turd in a large pile of shit, a lie can only be truly buried by more lies.”
“Ensign Kim,” she muttered. “You’re obviously sobering up from one beast of a hangover. Maybe this will teach you not to indulge in lower quality moonshines. I want you to report to sickbay for a full physical immediately followed by a briefing in my quarters afterward, is that understood?”
“Y...y...yes ma’am!” Harry said. “Um, do you think you could beam me back to my quarters?”
“I’m sorry Mr. Kim, but it would be a waste of our transporter resources. You’re just going to have to pray that the halls are empty and that nobody happens to be using the turbolift.”
Sullen, Harry Kim walked out of the room, looking both ways repeatedly before daring to venture out into the hall.
Janeway remained behind for a moment, although she would have liked to follow the nude Ensign and delight in his anxious escape there was much work to be done erasing this incident from the transporter logs. Then there would be the matter of going over the data from Kim’s physical, there was no telling what sort of side effects would occur from using such an old pattern…
“Um, excuse me ma’am, but that’s probably not the best way to reattach the conduit leading to the capacitor.” Ensign Susicivus said as he nervously watched his superior officer, one Belanna Torres, using several feet of extension cord in order to draw power to a capacitor that would help provide emergency power to the engines in case of emergency.
“Hey, fuckin’ relax.” said Torres as she puffed from the doobie hanging out of her mouth. Chakotay had backed off from his previous threats to monitor her activity after his last inspection, ignorance was truly bliss on board the USS Voyager. I know what I’m doing, I used to do this on shuttles all the time, this will save us from having to go through the wiring in the Jeffries tube and cut about thirty or forty hours off our maintenance queue.”
Susicivus was not entirely convinced, but he was too timid too do anything about it. “I..I..see, but you do know that the Matter/Antimatter chambers of an Intrepid class starship carry quite a bit more juice than you think…”
“Oh I get it!” Torres yelled. Is it because I’m a woman? You think I can’t figure shit out because I’m not packing testicles is that it? Or maybe it’s because I’m Klingon! You think we can’t build shit just because we spend more time eating raw meat and not taking showers than we do reading books? Clearly you are racist and misogynist!”
“N…no!” The meek Ensign replied. “I just don’t think this is a good idea!”
“Aw quite you fucking fuck, just for that I’m going to make you plug in the cable.”
“But it’s not….”
“That’s an order jackwad! Do it!”
Too terrified to disobey, and with a squirt of piss ready to moisten the front of his jumpsuit if the verbal abuse continued, Ensign Susicivus plugged the bright orange cord into the socket Torres had crudely added to the warp core of the Voyager. Unfortunately he had been correct in his assumption that the tactic was unsafe and he immediately was incinerated by the energy into a pile of finely charred dust.
Wide eyed, Torres let the joint fall from her mouth.
“Ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit…” She started muttering, just then Tom Paris walked by.
“Belanna, what the fuck is that on the floor?”
Looking down at the pile, Belanna was forced to think fast. “Oh…ummm, don’t tell Chakotay but I’ve been smoking down here. I know I’m not supposed to but Janeway gives me the creeps I need to cope.”
Paris titled his head, noticing Belanna’s pot and noted that the pile of ashes, although quite big, was consistent with Torres’ habit. He had fallen for the lie, although given Torres’s proficiency at smoking the ganj, it was a reasonable assumption.
“I won’t say anything, but hey, if you see Ensign Susicivus, can you let him know I’m finished with his Twilight book and his Linkin Park CD? He swore they were both great but they really sucked and I wanted to return them.
”Hmmmmm, so Susicivus is one of those emo douchebags eh? Sounds like his suicide won’t be so far fetched.” Torres thought. “You know Tom he said he was staying in his quarters sick today, he said he was going to go replicate some razorblades, and then something about going down the highway not across the street?”
Tom cringed, as a former sports reporter working the beat in Cleveland, he knew all about self destructive behavior and severe depression. “Maybe I should go find him.”
Belanna nodded as Tom walked off; when he was clearly out of sight she took a very long drag from her joint and cursed profusely in Klingon.
”This one won’t go away so easily, and I can’t falsify all of the ship’s logs completely, looks like I’m going to owe Tuvok ANOTHER goddamn favor…”
Tuvok meanwhile, had a huge pile of work on his desk. While his numerous side businesses, including the Mobile Holo-Emitter Whore business, were performing well enough, there was still the matter of keeping order on board the ship so none of the other senior staff would start looking twice. Firing up the datapad, he started triaging the most serious offenses and accusations.
“Let’s see here, Ensign Bouvier thinks someone is using a transporter to spy on her in the shower…looks like Lieutenant Rowan isn’t being as discrete as he said he would, going to have to smash a kneecap for that. “
“Ensign Morris thinks that someone poisoned his evening meal yesterday, but he ate Neelix’s food so that one’s pretty obvious.”
“Commander Chakotay…” Tuvok didn’t bother to read further. “This one doesn’t appear to be important. Looks like I might be able to take the rest of the day off…wait what the fuck?”
Tuvok scrolled through another report that had him very intrigued. “Ensign Umberto claims to have seen Ensign Harry Kim running nude down the corridor from the transporter rooms into the turbolift.” That caught Tuvok’s eye as suspicious. A quick records check confirmed Tuvok’s suspicion, Ensign Kim had six instances of prior nudity and all of them were within a ten meter radius of Tom Paris. Not surprising given the secrets Tuvok was privy to, but what would Harry Kim be doing nude in the transporter room? The answer was sure to generate some interesting blackmail.
“Computer, what is the current location of Ensign Harry Kim.”
”Harry Kim is currently located in his quarters.”
Hoping to find some evidence as to what was going on, went to the logical next step in any Harry Kim-related investigation. “Computer, perform a biological scan of Harry Kim’s quarters and person, identify any viscous fluids found within.”
”Biological scans of Harry Kim and his quarters are restricted by orders of the Acting Chief Medical Officer.”
Tuvok put his hand to his mouth in a gesture of deep thought. Why would the EMH restrict access to such a routine scan used by the Chief of Security? Federation Privacy Protocols a.k.a “The Patriot Act” were clear in that Security personnel required access to any and all facets of a citizen’s life under any circumstances. Further confusing Tuvok, how would the EMH, even as a rampant AI, restrict anyone’s access to any program given the computer safeguards in place put by Tuvok himself to prevent the doctor from taking over the entire ship’s computer and trying to shut down life support again.
Then the answer came to him, after the debacle that stuck the ship in the Delta Quadrant killed all of the medical personnel, someone had to take over as Chief Medical Officer, and while the senior staff was content to hand off all of the work to the EMH, they were never comfortable giving him actual rights and acknowledging sentiency. Captain Janeway had granted upon herself the role of Acting Chief Medical Officer. Tuvok remembered now, she had claimed the position based on her decision making authority but Tuvok had always suspected she had done so in order to prevent anyone from deeming her mentally unfit to command. Theoretically Chakotay could still do this but he was a bitch.
“So Janeway is covering something up, and that something caused Harry Kim to end up naked in a transporter room. So much for taking the night off, logic dictates I figure this out, and profit from it as obscenely as possible.”
Suddenly, the chime went off from his communicator.
“Paris to Tuvok”
Tuvok cussed under his breath and activated his badge. “This better be important Ms. Paris.”
“I think Ensign Susicivus is going to kill himself! We have to do something!”
It took Tuvok a couple of seconds to recognize the name. “You mean the emo fucker? He says that every fucking week. Besides, you know the Captain’s orders specifically prevent me from interfering with any suicide attempts without her permission. If you really give a shit about this guy I suggest you pass it on to Chakotay.”
With his tube sock firmly in place and his dress belt tightly wrapped around his neck, Chakotay was fully ready to enjoy his one remaining pleasure in life before going to sleep for the night. Unfortunately, just as he had finally managed to achieve an increasingly difficult erection, he was interrupted by a chime.
”Paris to Chakotay”
“Goddamnit.” Chakotay muttered as he looked longingly at the bottle of moonshine on his desk. “This is Chakotay go ahead.”
“I think Ensign Susicivus is going to kill himself! Tuvok told me to refer it to you, probably since you don’t give a shit about following Janeway’s orders.
“As much as I like shoving it in the craw of our dear captain…”
”That’s what she said!” Paris interrupted, much to Chakotay’s chagrin.
“…the suicide order is not one I’m particularly inclined to resist, and the Captain is holed up in her quarters right now and has asked not to be disturbed. Besides that guy always says he’s going to off himself.”
”I know that, but he’s not showing up on any of the ship’s scans! Also one of the two people we have left who are any good at repairing the warp drive.”
“Who is the other?” Chakotay said, irritated that this particularly important bit of trivia had eluded him.
” Belanna of course.” Paris said with no hint of sarcasm whatsover.
Chakotay cringed. Unlike Tom Paris, he knew full well of Torres’s erratic behaviors and deficiencies in complex repairs.
“I’ll see what I can do, Chakotay out.”
The conversation ended, Chakotay looked down, his dick was as lifeless as the belt strapped around his neck. Briefly, he moved his hand over the belt which was wrapped quite comfortably and he considered the idea of just hanging himself in his quarters and ending his nightmare.
“No, I’ll never give her or any of those other fucks that satisfaction!” He said to himself as he stood up, making a straight line towards his bottle of shine.
Last edited by Darth Fanboy on 2012-01-28 04:39pm, edited 1 time in total.
"If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little." -George Carlin (1937-2008)
"Have some of you Americans actually seen Football? Of course there are 0-0 draws but that doesn't make them any less exciting." -Dr Roberts, with quite possibly the dumbest thing ever said in 10 years of SDNet.
Despicable and yet highly compelling, you bastard.
Baltar: "I don't want to miss a moment of the last Battlestar's destruction!"
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
Those gun nuts do not understand the meaning of "overkill," and will simply use weapon after weapon of mass destruction (WMD) until the monster is dead, or until they run out of weapons.
They have more WMD than there are monsters for us to fight. (More insanity here.)
