Feel free to hang out & chat amongst yourselves. Anything goes as long as it's good clean fun! Play Nice!
By: RobDaHood , 9:42 AM GMT on July 01, 2012
There have been requests for a new mission.
Here it is.
I am about this close to clapping the girl in irons!
Wasn't bad enough I had to listen to the sound of spike heeled boots click-clack-click back and forth for hours as she paced around the bridge. She was in a bit of a miff, you see, that Pottery had forgotten who she was. But now I awaken with a pounding headache. She had used the Will-B-Wuz.
Okay, perhaps I'd better back up a bit. One of the side effects of trans dimensional wormhole travel is deja-vu and the feeling that you have already said things and done things that have yet to transpire. It takes a while to sort it all out.
So, as I was about to say, Some days or weeks ago, from the reader's perspective, although from mine, mere hours, (I haven't yet sorted out when I am) Lord Pottery requested a mission to discover the cause of some phantom WUmail that he had received, yet not gotten, leading to a serious case of consternation and befuddlement on his part. I immediately assigned Krissy (the grand-daughter of Ranger Rick) to the task of solving the mystery and attempting to recover said mail.
When I informed Pottery that she was making progress and the two of us were about to leave in the Captain's launch to follow up on a lead, he said "Who is Krissy?"
That's when the heel clicking started.
"Krissy, you have to remember that the last time Lord P. saw you was in Trinidad, after the wedding. He was quite, uhm, lets just say comfortably numb at the time. He probably doesn't remember half of the things that happened that evening..."
"That's no excuse!" click-clack-click.
And so forth and so on until I finally gave up and headed off to bed.
I've never seen her is such a state.
(Pottery, you owe me a very nice bottle of rum for this)
We were heading to a region of space called Beyond. It is called that because it is beyond the area explored and patrolled by the Grays. Little is known about it and it is frequented by pirates and all manner of unsavory characters.
I awoke with a start and a pounding head because someone was in a hurry. The Captains launch lack the sophisticated inertial dampening system of The Ark, and therefore can't accelerate at much over 3 Gs for sustained periods under the gravity drive without getting quite uncomfortable. The mechanism is just too large to fit is the smaller craft. However, the last time that Earl stopped by, Krissy traded him a pallet of his favorite tea for a Will-B-Wuz.
(I don't want to digress too much here, I'll speak more on the Grays later)
Anyway, I stumbled onto the bridge grasping my aching head in both hands and inquired (expletives deleted) as to exactly what the heck was going on.
"We're here, but it isn't!"
"Where, and what isn't?" I inquired, the pain starting to subside.
"Well, Captain, we are precisely where Boldlygo is supposed to be, but it's not here!" I could tell by her demeanor that she was slightly embarrassed at having lost an entire planet.
"Well, what is here?"
"There is a lot of what looks to be unmatched socks, some pocket fluff, and...what is that? a wad of paper?"
"Get it aboard and lets have a look."
Cutting to the chase, it was a sheet from a yellow legal pad, or at least part of one, The lower right half seemed to have been cut off. It read:
Help! Portable Ho...
The rest was missing.
(to be continued...)
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