The genius of Alf is that he ate cats
So it looks like sgastoryfinders generated a little renewed interest in my Scrubs/SGA fusion My Space Adventure, and I opened up my old scrubs file and lo and behold, at one point I had attempted a sequel! It's not going anywhere, though, so here. Have a slice.
There are exactly three rules I have to follow when I’m off-world.
One, I can’t touch anything. Two, if I touch anything, Dr. Cox reserves the right to hurt me in a deep and meaningful way. And three, if Dr. Cox hurts me, I can’t whine about it.
I readily accepted these conditions, though, because going off-world is the coolest thing ever, especially since our fourth team member is a robot. Robots are awesome. He looks eerily like Major Lorne, but talks like The Fonz.
What isn’t cool is being burned alive. I really wonder why I didn’t see this coming.
“Do you deny you are a witch?” a villager shouts at me, and what can I say to that? I wish I was a witch. Or a wizard, really, with a pointy-tipped hat and a beard. I’m not all that good at growing facial hair, though, so that’s likely to never happen.
Dr. Cox is out in front of the villagers, arms crossed and scowling and looking smokin’ in his black BDUs (like a ninja, only with more rage) and I think, any day now, because it’s starting to get a little warm. My toesies are too toasty.
“Well?” another villager shouts, fist waving menacingly, and I go, “Um,” and, “Yes?” and, “Wait, what?” because I can’t remember exactly how the witch question was phrased, and the villagers seem really tricky anyways. It’s a little late to backtrack, though, so I just widen my eyes and project skinny-human-boy vibes at them, which is easy, since I live and breathe skinny-human-boy.
Finally, Dr. Cox rolls his eyes and says, “Good god, you people, he’s obviously not a witch, no matter how many stars he’s wished upon-”
Again, how does he do that?
“So it’d be just great if you could cut Melinda down so we can be on our merry way.”
There are exactly three rules I have to follow when I’m off-world.
One, I can’t touch anything. Two, if I touch anything, Dr. Cox reserves the right to hurt me in a deep and meaningful way. And three, if Dr. Cox hurts me, I can’t whine about it.
I readily accepted these conditions, though, because going off-world is the coolest thing ever, especially since our fourth team member is a robot. Robots are awesome. He looks eerily like Major Lorne, but talks like The Fonz.
What isn’t cool is being burned alive. I really wonder why I didn’t see this coming.
“Do you deny you are a witch?” a villager shouts at me, and what can I say to that? I wish I was a witch. Or a wizard, really, with a pointy-tipped hat and a beard. I’m not all that good at growing facial hair, though, so that’s likely to never happen.
Dr. Cox is out in front of the villagers, arms crossed and scowling and looking smokin’ in his black BDUs (like a ninja, only with more rage) and I think, any day now, because it’s starting to get a little warm. My toesies are too toasty.
“Well?” another villager shouts, fist waving menacingly, and I go, “Um,” and, “Yes?” and, “Wait, what?” because I can’t remember exactly how the witch question was phrased, and the villagers seem really tricky anyways. It’s a little late to backtrack, though, so I just widen my eyes and project skinny-human-boy vibes at them, which is easy, since I live and breathe skinny-human-boy.
Finally, Dr. Cox rolls his eyes and says, “Good god, you people, he’s obviously not a witch, no matter how many stars he’s wished upon-”
Again, how does he do that?
“So it’d be just great if you could cut Melinda down so we can be on our merry way.”