So, I am finally getting desperate enough to build my own space pod. I looked around the Internet and found most of the parts on eBay (quite a useful resource - as useful as can be anticipated on a planet where toilet paper is considered sanitary...eeww) Anyway, the hydrogenartic scrocks are the hardest part to acquire, but I think I can create the part myself out of paperclips, several small plastic tubes and plutonium - plus a special ingredient that I should not mention since it will contaminate the human knowledge base - ah, what the glarf - camel dung. You still won't be able to figure it out though. But even if you do, you will likely blow up your pathetic planet - no loss, just wait till I get off it before messing around.
The ship will likely take several Earth months - not due to my lack of skill or genius, but due to the frubby postal service and the dense sellers of these items who list their goods as "shipped fast" and still take a week to put it in the proper shipping receptacle. Bunch of glooberworts! They remind me of a friend I once had on Hectro Segundas who took too long returning a memory plate to its owner and ended up forfeiting half his left brain to make up for the delay - small print, you know how it is - well maybe not. I forget sometimes who I am speaking to. Anyway...
My space pod is going to be just adequate enough to get me to the nearest acceptable planetoid - Faria Vi (granted, they don't offer much in the way of plush accommodations, but at least the food doesn't constantly smell of Gnarffle fish - and they have a small - if limited - spaceport.) I can handle another couple of months here as long as I don't get any more of those droofing girl scouts coming to my residence trying to poison me with their egregiously unhealthy "cookies." The sellers seem to think that because they are smaller in size and slightly (emphasize "slightly") less repulsive in form and smell than their larger human counterparts that I should inevitably part with my easily stolen finances to procure their foul tasting goods. The ingredients of the Mint Thins would kill a large Vartioblat if ingested!
O.K. that was a slight overstatement, but honestly, it is a wonder that humankind has survived so long with the sheer lack of anything resembling nourishing food stuffs in the "grocery" distributors. The amount of harmful substances consumed by the average human monthly would do serious damage to most any corporeal species within several turns if introduced into the galactic purified food chain. Personally, I have had a really difficult time digesting anything this planet produces. No wonder the bathrooms all smell so foul (OH! and the "Air Fresheners" are nothing of the sort! I can't imagine anything being more poorly named). The prior chronicle could easily have been my last if I hadn't left the bathroom entry open. And don't get me started on the other side effects of your "food".
Two months.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Still here...not for lack of trying.
So, I had given up on the idea of writing this ridiculous farce of a chronicle, but since my various attempts to leave this planet - this festering wound of a world lying in an a polluted salt bath of an ocean that will never quite cleanse it - have failed miserably, I have decided to lower myself to once again address the mindless few who read this revolting language.
Whoever invented television commercials should be vaporized into a cloud of gas and injected into a room full of snozzlepogs to be snorted up and broken down into their constituent plezzy particles inside the rodents' bladders. Even that's too good for these people. Stories of cultures that subjected their members to this form of torture have been made legend in the Ancient Galactic Chronicles. Without exception, each culture's end came soon and in the most hideous of ways. And without exception, the members of the culture found it a welcome relief. At this stage of programming, I give Earth twenty cycles at most before blessed war brings an end to the horrors of small print and deep-voiced vehicle sellers.
On another topic, I found a piece of paper attached to my earth vehicle this morning. I do not know where it had come from - I don't remember ordering it. Annoyingly enough, I had already entered the vehicle and was in the process of engaging the drive engine when I discovered it. I had to stop the vehicle, exit, and remove the paper before continuing. Apparently, the paper belonged to a Mr. Wong who likes to cook and provides free egg rolls to complete strangers. I have kept this document in case it becomes important at a later date, or if Mr. Wong comes looking for it.
I got my first communication from the network today. It was an invitation to a solar bathing blessing that my third mother was hosting on Vino Prime Velast. I didn't even know she had procured a new sun. I know she had been trying but such things are seldom accomplished quickly with the type of legislation that is passing the Frennian Council these cycles. I don't know how many forms I had to fill in to gain access to the Frennian personal biological waste facility before I was finally allowed to go. That was a painful but most needed visit. The type of digital work it takes to explode a sun must be horrendous; especially on Vino Prime Velast - there are twenty-six indigenous life forms on the closest planet alone. Proving that these lifeforms are worthless in order to gain eminent domain over their solar system can sometimes be gruelling.
Anyway, I hope she and her friends have fun and link lots of pictures to the network because the chances of me attending are as slim as a baby Grenolian's bottom not stinking after a three moon drag through the Gnaaar fields of spew.
Whoever invented television commercials should be vaporized into a cloud of gas and injected into a room full of snozzlepogs to be snorted up and broken down into their constituent plezzy particles inside the rodents' bladders. Even that's too good for these people. Stories of cultures that subjected their members to this form of torture have been made legend in the Ancient Galactic Chronicles. Without exception, each culture's end came soon and in the most hideous of ways. And without exception, the members of the culture found it a welcome relief. At this stage of programming, I give Earth twenty cycles at most before blessed war brings an end to the horrors of small print and deep-voiced vehicle sellers.
On another topic, I found a piece of paper attached to my earth vehicle this morning. I do not know where it had come from - I don't remember ordering it. Annoyingly enough, I had already entered the vehicle and was in the process of engaging the drive engine when I discovered it. I had to stop the vehicle, exit, and remove the paper before continuing. Apparently, the paper belonged to a Mr. Wong who likes to cook and provides free egg rolls to complete strangers. I have kept this document in case it becomes important at a later date, or if Mr. Wong comes looking for it.
I got my first communication from the network today. It was an invitation to a solar bathing blessing that my third mother was hosting on Vino Prime Velast. I didn't even know she had procured a new sun. I know she had been trying but such things are seldom accomplished quickly with the type of legislation that is passing the Frennian Council these cycles. I don't know how many forms I had to fill in to gain access to the Frennian personal biological waste facility before I was finally allowed to go. That was a painful but most needed visit. The type of digital work it takes to explode a sun must be horrendous; especially on Vino Prime Velast - there are twenty-six indigenous life forms on the closest planet alone. Proving that these lifeforms are worthless in order to gain eminent domain over their solar system can sometimes be gruelling.
Anyway, I hope she and her friends have fun and link lots of pictures to the network because the chances of me attending are as slim as a baby Grenolian's bottom not stinking after a three moon drag through the Gnaaar fields of spew.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
