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Night shift. Love this:
Glabnax was sitting at his space office. The space door was open and there was a galactic breeze coming in, as well as the sound
of space ships. He was comfortably reclining in his hovering chair, just doing some of the end-of-month space invoices, when
“Oh foognorb!” he exclaimed, almost spitting out his moon coffee.
That’s right, reader. You guessed it. He’d miscalculated a quotation earlier that week, which would result in a net loss of 10% of
the projected profits for that quarter.
“Foognorb!” he panickingly swore, “Noomflarm and bitugarms!”
The moon police would already be on their way, with space batons. His guilt would have been detected by the JUDGEPUTOR
and they’d be on their way to sentence him to do battle… fourteen bouts with the Crater Beast. The door flew open,
automatically because this is the future.
“YOUR GUILT HAS BEEN BLEEP BLOOP BLEEP DETECTORED” came the drone of the JUDGEPUTOR administrative droid (which of
course would precipitate the getting your nut smashed in by police bastards).
Suddenly the whole world exploded because it was nuked. Up in the nuke cruiser, which was higher up in space, General
Hawkmole was looming over young Ensign Dungman, who was manning the controls of the nuke machine.
“I can’t – I can’t…” stammered Dungman.
“Well done,” came the cold, emotionless tone of Hawkmole, “You have bombed your first planet with a nuke.”
“HOW DID I GET TO THIS?” Dungman asked himself, existentially.
Such a thought took him to his youth, as a young lad in the mid-to-late fourteenth century. As a fifteen year old, Dungman had
wanted only to hunt wolves and monsters in the Gloucestershire woodlands. He never in his wildest dreams could have
imagined that, only twelve years later, he would be working on General Hawkmole’s nuclear space cruiser – first as a marketing
intern, and then nuking the shit out of planets for some reason.
But there was little time to think because, almost immediately afterwards, the whole ship was swallowed by a black hole.
Everyone was somewhat dismayed, not least because they came out in an alternate universe where it’s mostly the same but
everyone’s just bummed out all the time.
Hawkmole, responsible for the wellbeing of his crew, managed to find a data file going through some of the key historical
landmarks of this new, strange, alternate universe. He put the VHS in the future version of a video.
“This is probably wank, but we might as well watch it like” he said
SO THEY DID
The video started with some of the famous cultural landmarks that even you would recognise. Like the Beatles on that black
and white TV show in the 40s or whatever it was:
“Now, there’s some beetles or something,” said 1920s Jimmy Kimmel, “There they are,” and then he slumped away.
Then John Lenion, Paul Mariokartney, George Harassment and Ringo Stork were nudged on stage by a reluctant intern and then
Paul said “Just shut up and listen so we can all just get home, alright?” and then they tuned their guitars for about an hour and
then played a song called ‘Twist and Go Away’, which everyone hated and then they couldn’t be arsed to play an encore so the
audience went home annoyed that they’d wasted their damn time.
The video then went to another key historical moment: that time when man first had a shit on the moon. We all remember the
famous quote: “One small shart for man, one giant cack for mankind”. Well, in this universe, it was very different! The first man
on the moon hadn’t even bothered to eat his space laxatives on the way up to the moon; so he couldn’t muster one up when
he got there. NASA tried to get Buzz Aldrin to do it instead, but Buzz wasn’t having any of it. He just wanted to sit in the moon
lander playing on his Game Boy Advance. So in this universe, all the billions of dollars spent trying to reach the moon so
Americans could be the first to take a dump on it were completely wasted.
Then Hawkmole switched the VHS off and took it out the machine.
“That was rubbish,” he moaned, “This whole universe is much worse than our one.”
Lance-Corporal Dogmouth was dismayed for a different reason: “You didn’t rewind the VHS,” he grumbled, “What if someone
else wants to watch it. They’ll have to rewind it themselves because you were so inconsiderate.”
“Shut up, Dogmouth,” said Hawkmole, “Stop hassling me”
Long story short this led to a brutally violent mutiny and several of the cruiser’s crew were killed… except for one survivor,
Harris ‘Mad Dog’ McGuyver.
“All of this,” he said shaking his head, “Just because we couldn’t learn.”
Then for some reason, McGuyver mashed all the controls yelling “HYPERDRIVE WARP POWER”, presumably because he thought
he could activate the hyperdrive warp power boosters. Unfortunately though he activated the ship’s self-destruct function,
which turned out to be faulty… as a result of which a message showed up on the computer saying – “FAULT. SUGGESTED
ACTION IS TO USE THE EMERGENCY HAMMER AND SMASH EVERYTHING THAT WAY”.
The great tragedy was that McGuyver did this; smashing the entire ship into subatomic interstellar oblivion with just a small
chipping hammer. It took him 73 years to destroy the whole entire cruiser with just that hammer, and all the while he thought:
“This is how I activate the emergency hyperdrive warp power boosters, in the wake of the main controls being knackered”… so
optimistically did he destroy this 4000 square mile space ship with just his single hammer.
In all those long years, he never noticed the buttons that would have activated the boosters… despite the fact that inexplicably,
by space law, there were five located in each room and they were all clearly marked (garishly in fact, with strobe lights and loud
music (a pumping dance anthem, in which female vocals sing “THIS IS / THE BUTTON FOR / THE HYPERDRIVE / WARP POWER /
BOOSTERS YEA-EAH” over a four-to-the-floor bass kick, trance arpeggios, an out-of-time-and-key looped sample of the iconic
sax from Gerry Rafferty’s ‘Baker Street’, and the sound of 500,000 simultaneous car alarms)) for some reason.
T’is such a tragedy as this that occurs in space. Rest well, readers… and hope you never find yourself in such a quandary as poor
old Harris ‘Mad Dog’ McGuyver. Hope so that never do you so be to you so to very well do you do, indeed.
And then some.
have more artistic license by setting stuff in space that is outlandish yet parallellish, with the justification that it is less unrealistic because there are more possibilities .......cos it is in space........................................................................when are writers and fantasists going to wake up and realise....WE ALREADY ARE IN SPACE