The camera zooms in on a single planet. The last planet,
really, the last fucking hold out, the rebel-base, the last stand against
THE EVIL EMPIRE. Workers scurry about fueling weird looking space
planes, called X-wings. Or is it XX wings, or XY wings (unsure).
Robots scurry about. Aibdo's or something, R2-D2's and
porcelain ashtray looking things. Activity abounds as the strike
force is rushed to prepare to fend off THE DEATH STARR that is coming to
obliterate the rebel base planet into a thousand rock pebble smithereens.
Out steps a man onto the flight deck in a red flight suit, big vacuum
pressure suit tubes hanging about and straps, and shoulders spattered with
the insignia of the Rebel Hello Kitty Alliance. A ladder leads up
to his faithful X-wing steed, marked with fourteen T.I.T-fighter kills
on the side, marked oddly so in red lipstick. In the back seat already
sits his co-pilot, hurriedly checking off a pre-flight checklist.
"Wake up GARBETT!" I say as I climb and half stumble into the cockpit,
and fasten the seat belts and gadgets to my suit as this big control stick
pilot steering wheel looking thing like a big fucking dick juts between
my legs...
"hey BITCH" I hear call back from the back seat...
ah good old GARBETT, always with a pet name at hand for me...
My eyes try to focus on the dials, digital readouts and controls as
I fumble with the clasps... odors waft back to
my copilot, prompting her to get cocky and blurt out loud in that fashion
I came to find so endearing from our years of service together as chums...
"you're drunk again, dammit, aren't you???!? god dammit" my
head spins and I feel this sharp pain developing in the back of mind...
"Listen, what the hell I do on my own time is my goddamn business okay?!"...
I mumble, as one hell of a painful skull splitting headache sets in (I
am seeing now, this conversation is going to sound a lot like I get from
my damn wife, you know, the hairy witch in my life we shall no further
speak about MRS HAIRY LIP).
"Hey, bitch, when what you do on YOUR TIME, can get ME FUCKING KILLED,
then it IS my business"...
Yeah ok whatever... oh damn... memories
flood back through my mind of the night before in the holodeck... where
I was actually doing a holomockup of my copilot Garbett, and she was a
six breasted cum guzzling slave pain slut... sigh... briefly a warm
glow came over me... ah... the night before on the holodeck...
*sigh* I figured what the hell, if I was destine to die
the next day, I might as well blow my last credit and my wad as well..
maybe later on this afternoon GARBETT and I really would embrace in space,
as too deadbodies floating about in a nuclearly fizzling wreck of my aircraft...
*warm fuzzy feelings*
"WAKE UP BITCH, TIME TO GO KICK SOME VADER BUTT" I hear as I wake
from my reverie... damn... too bad in real life
Garbett was fucking ice princess queen from the planet GOTH.
I look down and see this red button... on my penis... a pustle
maybe? should I pop it... am I hallucinating? the urge
to pop is so damn strong... I feel all those memories of zit popping
from high school cum rushing back... so I press it...
Kapoww... huge fire spitting lasers blast out the front of
our X-wing and all kinds of shit hollering cursing emanates from the flight
deck... as I blasted two work droids into nonexistent scrap
metal....
"HOLY SHIT... that was the control stick... not my dick!"
I say as the controls blur and spin..
"NO SHIT DUMBFUCK!" I hear from behind me. There's that
person again speaking to me. I wish they'd go away.
"If you're done FARTING AROUND, its time we to this tin can into space
and shove this deathtrap up VADER's ass..." there's that voice again...
"Ok" I mumble innocently... as I push the autopilot ON button,
and am greeting by a dumbass video display of what appears to be Grover
from Sesame Street or some blue thing telling me to sit back, relax, everything
is going to be A-OK.... as I feel a kick in the pants as the
IMPULSE THRUSTERS kick in and clear us from the flight deck... hopefully
before my captain made out the the ship number on the fuckup that just
blasted the two droids... heh....
"So, chief, who or what were we banging last night that you had to get
so drunk you had to forget her face???" That Garbett,
what a fucking mouth she has... haha... then
I remember the holodeck, and who I was really banging... haha it
was you bitch, only better... haha.. I call back "oh,
who the fuck else, you're mother! and damn she sucked.... like
always!"
"bitch!" such a creative reply
"bitch back!" i say....
"oh yeah, well fuck you!" "yeah, well fuck you
too you goddamn cunt!"
"at least I don't fucking clean my teeth with my fucking dick"
"at least I got a fucking dick!"
"you are a fucking dick!'
at this moment, i remember, warp drive, very fast damn thing, gets you
to your destination before you can say "bitch" and "bitch back!"...
hello... what the fuck....
"holy mother mary of god..." I say as I break from this bantering abusive
reverie and notice for the first time the AUTOPILOT has brought us right
before this huge fucking DEATHSTARR of a fucking synthetic planet capable
of eating PLANETS for lunch and destroying an X-wing gnat in a second.
Lunch without pudding. Its just not cricket.
"we're going in bitch!" I call back...
"like duh!" I hear barely as the Z-turbo's kick in and shrapnel
and lasers expode way too close to my ass outside for my comfort.
Ass... hehe... memories of last night... slapping Garbetts
ass as I pretended to be the Loneranger "engaging
targeting system!" I holler over the explosions... outside...
and in my pants. Grover the blue goob is suddenly replace by
some weird grid pattern with little blinky lights on it, and an arrow somewhere
in the middle that reads "YOU ARE HERE".
I frantically try and arm the photon torpedo, that we are going to shoot
down the asshole of this puppy DEATH STARR and detonate it. Not sure
at what I am getting at by this torpedo? Think dropping a tampon
into your friends big cup of black coffee when they look away in the lunchroom.
That kind of explosion. A big messy explosion. You get the
picture. It ain't gonna be pretty sweetheart.
Just as we are flying up the cunt or crack of this DEATHSTARR, to insert
the tampon I mean torpedo right up its ass, my targeting computer blinks
out. WHAT THE FUCK??? Some kind of radio jamming static
is all over the VD display. Where my grids and grover use to be,
is now PIRATE TV. Crap, its DARTH BIBLETHUMPER VADER!
VADER screams... "Give up rebel scum, you know, you can not defeat
the dark side! Join us. Join us Mark. Feel the
power, empty your wallets, and testify in rapture!" damn that
biblethumper... I mutter as I twist little knobs and gadgets and
stuff trying to turn it off, but instead the damn knobs break of in my
hand. Oh great, I forgot, these tin cans were built through contracts
won by the lowest bidder. I stick the knobs in my nose and make fun
back at VADER.
"Mark... I must tell you something"... VADER screams
from the monitor... "listen to me... Mark... I
am your ex-girlfriend!"
"NO!!!!" I exclaim in horror... it can not be... no!...
the shock waves over me... "GARBETT HELP ME! Grab a hold
of my stick and take control" I cry out as I lose my facilities and
also the contents of my bladder. Mmmm... warm fuzzy feeling
again...
"YES, its true!" I smash the VD with my knuckles (ouch),
and VADER fades out and is replaced briefly by something that looks like
Max Headroom, and then by a loosing game of PACMAN. Garbett
calls out "You ok up there boy-eo???" I am in shell shock....
still ... "no... no.. I am not... okay...."
About that time, a vision appears. It just floats in the air somehow,
out in space, and it starts speaking to me. Its a voice, the
ancient voice of Obewan MyFirstGirlfriend. Its
speaks to me... and it says this "Mark, forget your mind... use your feelings...
your feelings Mark... switch off this technology, become the child
again.... and follow your heart... follow your heart....
just feel" Hey, I love feeling things, so I'm game...
Well about that time, the halfassed wiring job I did on the battery
cell packs the week before fizzled out (guess what, STARR, you can't use
a gum wrapper tinfoil as a fuse replacement for long) and all my digital
controls went dead. I might as well have been flying an 80-286.
So I closed my eyes, and I began to fantasize...
"WHAT THE BLUE BLAZES HELL" I hear from the back seat... "ARE YOU FUCKING
INSANE???"
then... I just let myself go... like when you are a kid and you
fall back into your swimming pool, but are never too sure your sister hasn't
jumped behind you with a nice rake to land squarely in your back... you
just have to trust... and hope... there is some essential goodness left
in the universe despite what your skeptical cynical mind tells you what
you know about your little bitch of a sister's real personality.
So... I fell away....
I fantasized I was really a girl... with breasts... my how
I love to touch myself... feels good... mmm.. third nipple... mmm..
no wait.... must concentrate.... concentrate on reading the
directions... as these instructions for OB tampons floated across
my vision... the diagrams... how to insert... it
was all so complicated, so foreign to me, help me OB-WON... but then,
the pictures... the pictures... made it all so... simply clear..
thank god for pictures.... I understood now... how it
all worked...!
At that moment I PUSHED and did the INSERT!
beep beep beep I hear... I didn't care... it felt so good...
almost as good as sex, but not quite... as the torpedo slid down
into the DEATHSTAR... I hear from the back seat somewhere in the
back of my mind... it must of been GARBETT... "woo hoo
buggerroo!"
<insert big ass fucking explosion here>
All I remember was I felt the X-wing tin can shake violently as it was
tossed and vibrated all to fuck as we were thrown clear.
I do remember GARBETT moaning somewhat fiercely, it must of been from the
intense vibrations. Chicks. They love intense vibrations.
What can I say. I give them a good ride.
~
Back at base, I land, and I'm greeting by hundreds of crew engineers
as the swarm over my fucked up X-wing. Oh crap I think, I'm a hero
now, I don't have to pay for this mess I've made of this tincan, and best
of all... I'm going to get so fucking laid for this as I giggle with glee.
Triumph washes over me. Hot damn, bitch, I own this world now!
MARK, YOU DA MAN!
The cockpit window opens, and out wafts the smell of beer and some other
strange smell I can't put my finger on. I climb out, and down the
ladder, beaming with pride, to lots of cheers and hollers and I'm sure
a fucking load of sighs of relief. I turn around, to survey my adoring
crowd of admires. "Where's the babes!" I think like one
big average fucking chump winner at the end of a NASCAR race day.
The crowd falls death silent. Not a word is spoken. Ok,
this is fucking odd... they must be so amazed at my awesomeness,
they don't know what to say. I just beam and smile and wave like
an idiot.
GARBETT looks at me and shakes her head and taps me on the shoulder,
and I look over at her with this perplexed look... what is
it... what the hell do you want in my moment of glory...???
Bitch!
She looks at me with that fucked up GARBETT grin and points down at
my crotch, were it looks like Niagara Falls had a water wild fucking field
day...
~
QUESTION: What happens in sequel two!
QUESTION: Will Mark be able to find a dry cleaner?
QUESTION: Is Garbett secretly a 54 year old man in a wig?
QUESTION: Did Vader escape in a T.I.T fighter at the last moment?
QUESTION: How many droids could a wookie chuck if a wookie could
chuck droids?
QUESTION: Will Mark flake on I-285, and duel against the Ninja Bikes
with Copilot Garbett afterall? "Hey Bitch! Ninja's at 6'oclock
coming up fast!"
Stay tuned, true believers!
[ Written and copyrited by Mark Starr (c) 2002 ]
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