Monday, April 27

guess who's coming to dinner

apparently, the fool in charge of the fancy ship wants to meet some of the 'real' people who work and maintain this piece of shit. somehow, i got roped into it. that's cool. i could use a decent meal with good booze and hot alien females.

the banquet was held way up high on the station, where the decks still have names instead of four-digit numbers. it's fucking nice up there. fantastic views of space, and naturally, the ship was in full view. we were told to wear our work uniforms, as everyone needs to know their place. no problem for me, it's all i wear anyway.

food: awesome. drinks: potent. chicks: butch, but cute.
conversation: mind-numbingly pointless.

do they really want to know what it's like to work on this station? well, they found out. i related a story of how i found some organ smugglers, you know, people with six hearts and 8 livers, bloated, sweating, horribly unhealthy, locked away in one of the storage containers.

gasps, shocked reactions, how horrible
you don't know the half of it, i said... when i opened em up after hours with the help of some medic-bot, the organs were all fouled. they didn't even attach any of them, just stuffed the poor fuckers with as many as they could hold without bursting and sent em over. the whole plan was screwed. didn't make any money out of it.

that got a lot of stares.

when i pointed out that it coincided with the arrival of their ship, and that you couldn't trust a senior officer of such a fancy craft to smuggle a few livers in properly, captain spacefuck choked on his deep-space oysters.

unsurprisingly, i was emergency paged down to hangar 23 about two minutes later. i guess some people can't handle the truth.

No comments:

Post a Comment

what the fuck is your problem?