Some Challenge on lacey_loves_laz
Words to Include
- effluent (liquid regarded as waste)
- joy
- libation (pouring out of wine/alcoholic drink)
The Characters
Obviously, there needs to be some Laz/Lacey love in there, as it is the Adam/Jesse community. But anything else is fine, too.
The Guidelines
- Can be any genre
- Must take place in the summer of '01. I don't care how you do that. Even just casual mention of the date would be fine.
- Should be no longer than 2000 words. [If you want to continue it later, then by all means].
Deadline is April 10th, 2005.
Title Captain Lacey And The Borbanx Space Crew
GenreSci-Fi
Notes Haha, seriously, don’t vote for me. This is supposed to be stupid for some light entertainment. (I say that but deep down I secretly will be very hurt if I don’t win). I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Imagine this as a section from a huge novel all about the adventures of this team.
“8 letters… word meaning the pouring of alcohol…” I murmured, chewing my biro, hoping the ink wouldn’t explode into my mouth making me look like an idiot.
“I know the answer, but why would anyone ever listen to me?” Derk moaned quietly, “Libation you fool…”
At last! I had finally completed the crossword in the back of the TV For All The Space Channels In The Universe Guide. Thank god for that, it was taking me ages. With a loud ker-chunk the brightly- coloured flashy lights on the pad had told me we had arrived. I was ready to depart.
“Welcome to Planet Nebula-Gamma Captain Lacey.”
I looked down at my nose at the small greeting party, all looking like fluorescent oompa-loompas. The tallest one was the one that spoke, even though he came up to my hip. He was wearing a kilt and a bright green t-shirt- and yes, he did look stupid.
I, however looked great as per usual, and I stood, my hip jutting out, on the air-compressed Gorgonzola 3000 lift. I looked damn good, if I may say so myself. It’s a good thing I landed as well; a million girls would kill themselves if there were a problem.
In fact, there nearly was. That damn Corporal Lazarra almost crashed us into a blanket of moshing asteroids; anyone else could have missed that with their eyes closed, but NO, Corporal Lazarra wound up with us sending out distress signals and having to do an emergency manoeuvre, a warp drive winding up at a galaxy little-chef and loosing one of the wing mirrors to a space-rat. I wasn’t very impressed.
He did seem very apologetic though, and so he should. How dare he fly my Borbanx Black Edition 2001 to the mosh-pit where we almost crashed? Those wing mirrors cost me 100,000 galaxy eons each!
Let me tell you, I sure showed him. He wasn’t even wearing the Lacey Travel Deck uniform! He insisted on wearing stupid jelly bands that had gone out a million years ago, or at least they should have done. I doubt that people would have the same fashion sense as I, but he could at least try- and the uniform was a good start. Without the uniform he looked like a common roadie.
“Yes. People of Nebula- Gamma,” I glanced briefly down at the four fake oompa-loompas watching me… ok so maybe there are less people on this planet than expected, “I bring you… your cargo! Please, have the new Mazz catalogue of Summer 2001, including all the latest fashions and groovy new items for your planets need!” I summoned for one of the commanders to pass the catalogue to the head of the oompa-loompas, and the dude accepted it fairly hesitantly. Maybe he thought it was a very brightly coloured, good-looking bomb, I don’t know, or he was very impressed with my normal, soft skin. The trick is to moisturise.
“Why are you so late? We have been waiting for 10 Orgons.” One of the ugly, short orange-men said in a robotic voice.
I sneered at him. Then glanced at Corporal Lazarra, who was very pink indeed, standing in the corner.
“Just a bit of trouble in the Mosh-Pits Nether-Region.” I said through gritted teeth. Damn that stupid corporal. He is so fired when we get back to base.
What had actually happened after we arrived at the little chef was the main reason of our extreme lateness. After many of the team had decided it was best if they used the toilet as they apparently needed to go and grab several cups of brown sludge claiming to be coffee, I realised just how many light-years we were out of the direction we were supposed to be going in. I was in a foul mood for a long time, and banned Corporal Lazarra from driving the space-ship back in the general direction; I had to get less experienced Commander Derk to drive the space-ship across the M245 (Which was very clogged up in rush hour. I knew we should have gone ROUND Planet Newbury but apparently it was quicker sitting in a queue for 3 Orgons).
As we started un-loading the cargo on Nebula Gamma, I watched that hideous Lazarra walk towards me, and made me shudder. Right now I was so angry at him. We are NOT just a delivery ship- we are a lifestyle, and we have certain codes of conduct. Okay, 4 Orgons are a given due to traffic on the mainstream galaxy-ways, but 10? My Mongrel Over-Lords won’t be very happy, and I will probably get demoted to waste disposal unit, dealing with effluent bundles of joy. If this Lazarra is the reason for a demotion- I will kick his ass into the next century!
“Can I speak to you, Captain Lacey?” That sniffling runt blinked at me from behind all that long, hippy hair.
“No. You need a hair cut.” I stormed off into the prepared Barracks close to the landing port.
Usually, after a large-scale delivery such as this one, the planet will provide us with converted Barracks, so the team can rest their pretty heads for the next delivery. It’s a great way to discover new planets and their poisonous toxins, from an up-close, personal viewpoint. The locals are usually friendly, grateful to be told by a bunch of men in fantastic uniforms that they are now in this season’s fashion, but can never provide a good cup of tea.
The tea they serve is always watery and has things floating in it; it took a while before I noticed these were in fact leaves (apparently) that were supposed to be giving this water a wonderful flavour. It’s no wonder people never drink that rubbish. If the rest of the galaxy is so technology- advanced then why hasn’t the recipe for a good cuppa transmitted to the rest of the universe? No, I stick to the nostalgic memories of Earth purely for the good tea.
I grinned, flashing a superman pose at a reflective window as I approached the door, crawling stones in my shoes thanks to the short walk across the surface. The stones were considered insects now in the dictionary of Nebula Gamma and I’m not going to argue with that, these stones were scuttling as it is and I was worried they would leave an imprint of bite marks on my lovely skin and flattering uniform.
“Thanks for using the door,” Said the door.
“No problem,” I winked at the door to which it giggled and slid sexily across its runs, letting out a short gasp of air; I am too sexy for my own good.
I flexed my muscles in the mirror in my quarters, little did I know, it was a “Your Repressed Memories” mirror, originally created to rule the world by some short guys with beards living on the planet of the 7 Seeds Of Rye that had no legs; they spent their whole life forced to wheel around on a badly painted rocket propelled grenade launchers with caterpillar tracks.
“You were such a loser on Earth, Lacey. Remember when you got your head flushed down a toilet by the obese braniacs of the “popular crowd”? From then on… the dead end jobs, lousy girlfriends… you were as pathetic as Corporal Lazarra.”
I threw a trowel at the mirror.
I heard “Thanks for using the doors. If the doors are doing a good job, call this number! 07771234567”, and the hideously familiar heavy, doc martin footsteps of the hippie corporal approaching me.
I searched for somewhere to hide… only the cupboard, and there is no way I’d fit in between THOSE shelves. I’m good looking but not that skinny.
“Captain Lacey,” Came that drawl that makes me want to punch a wall... but I don’t, as I had my manicure done yesterday and the thought of hitting this pure Rubonseem wall sent shivers up my spine.
“Have you had that hair cut yet?” I spun round to face Lazarra, the answer was no, he had not. But he’d brushed it; I suppose that was a start.
“I… I came to apologise for the misdirection’s and the hilarious stop in a galaxy fire- breathing Fert infested hedgerow… Fluff from Saturn had made an encasing across the Voivod wheel and we had to chip it-”
I silenced him with a swift movement of the hand, the pose causing me to look at myself in the mirror. I wiggled an eyebrow at myself; man I look hot today.
“I am not fired am I?” He said softly, obverting my gaze from my luscious body. “It’s just… I think I’m in love with you-”
“Most people are, Corporal,” I said, like this was all news to me, “Most people are.”
I continued to mess up my hair to look at myself better in the reflection, meowing. I’m so pretty it hurts. Corporal Lazarra could never be this pretty.
And the next thing I know is he’s blocking my view of myself. I wasn’t very impressed; this is not behaviour that will keep him on the staff. Then I feel his hands on the side of my face… and its too late… my cheeks are crawling with the new-age-traveller germs!
His lips are on mine and it feels like this hippie is trying to kill me! Ah!
“I know you feel the same… I’ve seen those looks you’ve been giving me.” He was saying in between kisses.
I kept trying to say ‘What- Those withering, condescending looks of pity and patronising death glances? I just want to grab my laser Yohatosmere blaster and kill you.’ But his lips were moving at warp speed and it’s hard to say anything really. Might as well put up with it.
His hands are now in different places, one on my hip, sliding his hand under my good looking, clean shirt, the other pressed onto my collarbone as he lets his lip trail circles on my neck. This is different … I’m not remotely attracted to this specimen of human waste.
“You stupid warthog with the smell to match…” I said, and he moaned into my chest, “How could you ever think I could be attracted to someone as ugly and unintelligent as you, you filthy bag of rubbish catapulted into the neo-sphere.”
With my expert martial arts skills I high chopped him in the head and low kicked him in the stomach. He was so taken aback by how good I looked as I beat him up he couldn’t defend himself. I was kung fu fighting, I was as fast lightening, I bet Lazarra found it very frightening.
Doing a graceful backwards roll over the floating bed, I jumped up from my back and grabbed the remote cupboard controller from the bed-side table and zipped the cupboard which sprang to life, the door’s slowly opening like a scene from Indiana Jones.
Corporal Lazarra was coming towards me, his arms outstretched. I panicked and grabbed a desk lamp, flinging it at his head. He let it smack him and just carried on going like a space-zombie. My pulse was racing as I threw myself towards him, throwing him into the cupboard and locking the door. A few bangs from the inside and he was… he was gone. Since the new regulatory legislation had been put into practice, all the new cupboards had ready installed toilet plungers. With a loud sucking noise he had been pulled out, throwing him into the stratosphere towards the space ship.
The only explanation I can give as to why I didn’t act sooner was that we all need a little attention when we’re sleeping in barracks next to a landing-port on an otherwise inhabitable planet delivering fashionable goods to the citizens. The only female on board is one who looks like she’s been hit in the face with a frying pan, and she’s a lousy lay.
Insult or review me. Even if you write a comment that says "Lyke OMGZZZZ letz be friendz!" I don't care, I just want a million comments.
- effluent (liquid regarded as waste)
- joy
- libation (pouring out of wine/alcoholic drink)
The Characters
Obviously, there needs to be some Laz/Lacey love in there, as it is the Adam/Jesse community. But anything else is fine, too.
The Guidelines
- Can be any genre
- Must take place in the summer of '01. I don't care how you do that. Even just casual mention of the date would be fine.
- Should be no longer than 2000 words. [If you want to continue it later, then by all means].
Deadline is April 10th, 2005.
Title Captain Lacey And The Borbanx Space Crew
GenreSci-Fi
Notes Haha, seriously, don’t vote for me. This is supposed to be stupid for some light entertainment. (I say that but deep down I secretly will be very hurt if I don’t win). I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Imagine this as a section from a huge novel all about the adventures of this team.
“8 letters… word meaning the pouring of alcohol…” I murmured, chewing my biro, hoping the ink wouldn’t explode into my mouth making me look like an idiot.
“I know the answer, but why would anyone ever listen to me?” Derk moaned quietly, “Libation you fool…”
At last! I had finally completed the crossword in the back of the TV For All The Space Channels In The Universe Guide. Thank god for that, it was taking me ages. With a loud ker-chunk the brightly- coloured flashy lights on the pad had told me we had arrived. I was ready to depart.
“Welcome to Planet Nebula-Gamma Captain Lacey.”
I looked down at my nose at the small greeting party, all looking like fluorescent oompa-loompas. The tallest one was the one that spoke, even though he came up to my hip. He was wearing a kilt and a bright green t-shirt- and yes, he did look stupid.
I, however looked great as per usual, and I stood, my hip jutting out, on the air-compressed Gorgonzola 3000 lift. I looked damn good, if I may say so myself. It’s a good thing I landed as well; a million girls would kill themselves if there were a problem.
In fact, there nearly was. That damn Corporal Lazarra almost crashed us into a blanket of moshing asteroids; anyone else could have missed that with their eyes closed, but NO, Corporal Lazarra wound up with us sending out distress signals and having to do an emergency manoeuvre, a warp drive winding up at a galaxy little-chef and loosing one of the wing mirrors to a space-rat. I wasn’t very impressed.
He did seem very apologetic though, and so he should. How dare he fly my Borbanx Black Edition 2001 to the mosh-pit where we almost crashed? Those wing mirrors cost me 100,000 galaxy eons each!
Let me tell you, I sure showed him. He wasn’t even wearing the Lacey Travel Deck uniform! He insisted on wearing stupid jelly bands that had gone out a million years ago, or at least they should have done. I doubt that people would have the same fashion sense as I, but he could at least try- and the uniform was a good start. Without the uniform he looked like a common roadie.
“Yes. People of Nebula- Gamma,” I glanced briefly down at the four fake oompa-loompas watching me… ok so maybe there are less people on this planet than expected, “I bring you… your cargo! Please, have the new Mazz catalogue of Summer 2001, including all the latest fashions and groovy new items for your planets need!” I summoned for one of the commanders to pass the catalogue to the head of the oompa-loompas, and the dude accepted it fairly hesitantly. Maybe he thought it was a very brightly coloured, good-looking bomb, I don’t know, or he was very impressed with my normal, soft skin. The trick is to moisturise.
“Why are you so late? We have been waiting for 10 Orgons.” One of the ugly, short orange-men said in a robotic voice.
I sneered at him. Then glanced at Corporal Lazarra, who was very pink indeed, standing in the corner.
“Just a bit of trouble in the Mosh-Pits Nether-Region.” I said through gritted teeth. Damn that stupid corporal. He is so fired when we get back to base.
What had actually happened after we arrived at the little chef was the main reason of our extreme lateness. After many of the team had decided it was best if they used the toilet as they apparently needed to go and grab several cups of brown sludge claiming to be coffee, I realised just how many light-years we were out of the direction we were supposed to be going in. I was in a foul mood for a long time, and banned Corporal Lazarra from driving the space-ship back in the general direction; I had to get less experienced Commander Derk to drive the space-ship across the M245 (Which was very clogged up in rush hour. I knew we should have gone ROUND Planet Newbury but apparently it was quicker sitting in a queue for 3 Orgons).
As we started un-loading the cargo on Nebula Gamma, I watched that hideous Lazarra walk towards me, and made me shudder. Right now I was so angry at him. We are NOT just a delivery ship- we are a lifestyle, and we have certain codes of conduct. Okay, 4 Orgons are a given due to traffic on the mainstream galaxy-ways, but 10? My Mongrel Over-Lords won’t be very happy, and I will probably get demoted to waste disposal unit, dealing with effluent bundles of joy. If this Lazarra is the reason for a demotion- I will kick his ass into the next century!
“Can I speak to you, Captain Lacey?” That sniffling runt blinked at me from behind all that long, hippy hair.
“No. You need a hair cut.” I stormed off into the prepared Barracks close to the landing port.
Usually, after a large-scale delivery such as this one, the planet will provide us with converted Barracks, so the team can rest their pretty heads for the next delivery. It’s a great way to discover new planets and their poisonous toxins, from an up-close, personal viewpoint. The locals are usually friendly, grateful to be told by a bunch of men in fantastic uniforms that they are now in this season’s fashion, but can never provide a good cup of tea.
The tea they serve is always watery and has things floating in it; it took a while before I noticed these were in fact leaves (apparently) that were supposed to be giving this water a wonderful flavour. It’s no wonder people never drink that rubbish. If the rest of the galaxy is so technology- advanced then why hasn’t the recipe for a good cuppa transmitted to the rest of the universe? No, I stick to the nostalgic memories of Earth purely for the good tea.
I grinned, flashing a superman pose at a reflective window as I approached the door, crawling stones in my shoes thanks to the short walk across the surface. The stones were considered insects now in the dictionary of Nebula Gamma and I’m not going to argue with that, these stones were scuttling as it is and I was worried they would leave an imprint of bite marks on my lovely skin and flattering uniform.
“Thanks for using the door,” Said the door.
“No problem,” I winked at the door to which it giggled and slid sexily across its runs, letting out a short gasp of air; I am too sexy for my own good.
I flexed my muscles in the mirror in my quarters, little did I know, it was a “Your Repressed Memories” mirror, originally created to rule the world by some short guys with beards living on the planet of the 7 Seeds Of Rye that had no legs; they spent their whole life forced to wheel around on a badly painted rocket propelled grenade launchers with caterpillar tracks.
“You were such a loser on Earth, Lacey. Remember when you got your head flushed down a toilet by the obese braniacs of the “popular crowd”? From then on… the dead end jobs, lousy girlfriends… you were as pathetic as Corporal Lazarra.”
I threw a trowel at the mirror.
I heard “Thanks for using the doors. If the doors are doing a good job, call this number! 07771234567”, and the hideously familiar heavy, doc martin footsteps of the hippie corporal approaching me.
I searched for somewhere to hide… only the cupboard, and there is no way I’d fit in between THOSE shelves. I’m good looking but not that skinny.
“Captain Lacey,” Came that drawl that makes me want to punch a wall... but I don’t, as I had my manicure done yesterday and the thought of hitting this pure Rubonseem wall sent shivers up my spine.
“Have you had that hair cut yet?” I spun round to face Lazarra, the answer was no, he had not. But he’d brushed it; I suppose that was a start.
“I… I came to apologise for the misdirection’s and the hilarious stop in a galaxy fire- breathing Fert infested hedgerow… Fluff from Saturn had made an encasing across the Voivod wheel and we had to chip it-”
I silenced him with a swift movement of the hand, the pose causing me to look at myself in the mirror. I wiggled an eyebrow at myself; man I look hot today.
“I am not fired am I?” He said softly, obverting my gaze from my luscious body. “It’s just… I think I’m in love with you-”
“Most people are, Corporal,” I said, like this was all news to me, “Most people are.”
I continued to mess up my hair to look at myself better in the reflection, meowing. I’m so pretty it hurts. Corporal Lazarra could never be this pretty.
And the next thing I know is he’s blocking my view of myself. I wasn’t very impressed; this is not behaviour that will keep him on the staff. Then I feel his hands on the side of my face… and its too late… my cheeks are crawling with the new-age-traveller germs!
His lips are on mine and it feels like this hippie is trying to kill me! Ah!
“I know you feel the same… I’ve seen those looks you’ve been giving me.” He was saying in between kisses.
I kept trying to say ‘What- Those withering, condescending looks of pity and patronising death glances? I just want to grab my laser Yohatosmere blaster and kill you.’ But his lips were moving at warp speed and it’s hard to say anything really. Might as well put up with it.
His hands are now in different places, one on my hip, sliding his hand under my good looking, clean shirt, the other pressed onto my collarbone as he lets his lip trail circles on my neck. This is different … I’m not remotely attracted to this specimen of human waste.
“You stupid warthog with the smell to match…” I said, and he moaned into my chest, “How could you ever think I could be attracted to someone as ugly and unintelligent as you, you filthy bag of rubbish catapulted into the neo-sphere.”
With my expert martial arts skills I high chopped him in the head and low kicked him in the stomach. He was so taken aback by how good I looked as I beat him up he couldn’t defend himself. I was kung fu fighting, I was as fast lightening, I bet Lazarra found it very frightening.
Doing a graceful backwards roll over the floating bed, I jumped up from my back and grabbed the remote cupboard controller from the bed-side table and zipped the cupboard which sprang to life, the door’s slowly opening like a scene from Indiana Jones.
Corporal Lazarra was coming towards me, his arms outstretched. I panicked and grabbed a desk lamp, flinging it at his head. He let it smack him and just carried on going like a space-zombie. My pulse was racing as I threw myself towards him, throwing him into the cupboard and locking the door. A few bangs from the inside and he was… he was gone. Since the new regulatory legislation had been put into practice, all the new cupboards had ready installed toilet plungers. With a loud sucking noise he had been pulled out, throwing him into the stratosphere towards the space ship.
The only explanation I can give as to why I didn’t act sooner was that we all need a little attention when we’re sleeping in barracks next to a landing-port on an otherwise inhabitable planet delivering fashionable goods to the citizens. The only female on board is one who looks like she’s been hit in the face with a frying pan, and she’s a lousy lay.
Insult or review me. Even if you write a comment that says "Lyke OMGZZZZ letz be friendz!" I don't care, I just want a million comments.