Tuesday, April 11, 2006

The Party

Murphy's Log: Stardate 6

What a party! I know it's been a while since my last entry, in fact if you want to be precise it's been months! But that's how long these parties last here on Epsilon XVI. The maroon planet. Not only is it maroon, it is also party central it seems, for the entire galaxy! On every streetcorner you can find a tavern, an after-hours club, a concert hall, and a cigar lounge! Oh, the times we've had. A different woman every night, all the booze you can manage, and more. However, it does get tiresome at points, every night being relatively the same, and being woken up early by the daytime partyers doesn't help a mind-numbing hangover.

Needless to say, we've gotta book it out of here, and fast. It seems that I've impregnated quite a few of the local women, and I'm really not ready for fatherhood. Plus, imagine all the child support payments! It really makes me shudder. The trick is going to be escaping without being noticed. We could have used the mind-propelled suit, but at some point it was filled with liqour and set on fire. In fact, I vaguely remember the night. Alpha had drunk about 50 litres of Farflexian Pungle Juice and was physically bouncing off the walls. One side effect of Farflexian Pungle Juice is a sensation of elasticity. I remember a bet being made.....and a pretty girl.....after that everything sort of goes blank. We awoke to find a burnt-out hulk of Alpha's invention.

Since I'm currently hiding out from a number of irate fathers weilding a number of deadly and dismembering weapons, we've devised a plan of escape. I'll disguise myself as a woman, and find a purse big enough to hold Alpha, and hitch a ride on the next freighter out of here. From there who knows. The tricky thing is going to be finding my ship. I have a general idea of where it went. My theory is that it returned to it's home planet (being the planet where it was created). However, the planet in question (Darkinon Plus) has a very erratic orbit around eight different suns, spanning quite a distance. Regardless, the cargo of said ship is very dear to me, and um, to many other shall we say "concerned" investors. And I'm running out of time. Quickly.

Wish Me Luck, For Tomorrow I May Be Impaled,