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CRASH! The ship shook violently after being mercilessly pounded by asteroids. I fought hard at the wheel get back in control of the damaged ship, barely missing a small planet. Again, I swung the wheel to the left, in a fruitless attempt to avoid an incoming satellite. It was too late though, and the ship collided with the satellite.
“The FCI are probably going to be thrilled when they find out you wrecked a three billion dollar satellite,” said Ben.
Yeah, that’s Ben alright, never missing the opportunity to make fun of my bad driving. I would like to see how he would handle a thirty ton space ship that’s missing its tail… The best way to describe Ben? Well, try to picture a thirty-year old who’s spent most of his life at McDunwald’s, and that’s just about how my commander looks.
My name is Luke Skajwalkeroff and I am but a simple lieutenant, twenty years of age. I do most of the driving around here, because Ben McFatass is too lazy to get off of his chair… Honestly, driving doesn’t bother me that much, because he pays all the repair bills. In fact, his money is the only thing that keeps me from ejecting him from an airlock.
“Hey genius, what’d you hit this time?” asked Ben lazily.
“Does it matter what I hit? You’re still paying for repairs, and you haven’t paid me in over a month!” I said dryly.
“Hey, I already told you, I needed your money for other purposes!” shouted Ben.
“You spent my salary on ten freaking tons of cheese! How is that a good purpose? I couldn’t even eat the cheese, because I’m lactose intolerant…” I said.
While we were bickering like little kids, I didn’t even notice what I’d hit. When I finally turned around and looked at the telescreen, my jaw dropped. All I had seen was cold, smooth metal, but I instantly realized which ship in particular I had hit. Before I could realize what had happened, the side airlock burst open, and a few dozen guards rushed in, armed to the teeth. Even a person as slow as I am would recognize that these were the Fuhrer’s Stonedtroopers.
The commander in the gleaming brown helmet pointed at me and shouted “You, bro!”
“Yeah, I’m me. Now could you guys leave? I kind of have to be getting somewhere,” I rudely stated.
“You will be going nowhere, bro! You are now under arrest under order #666, dude!” spat the Stonedtrooper, getting frustrated.
I would say something, but these guys in their brown armor and shiny badges looked so official, I just couldn’t say anything. Ben and I tried to resist, but we soon found out that Stonedtrooper armor is impervious to cheese and bread, which we flung at them. They dragged us into their nice, shiny iShip to see the Fuhrer.
Now, the Fuhrer is a really creepy-looking guy. Imagine Stalin and George Bush put together, and that’s what this guy looked like. Creepiest of all, he could talk without opening his mouth.
“So you guys are the insolent scum that scratched my iShip!” he roared.
“Umm… sort of?” I said sheepishly.
“Let me just tell you, this iShip is worth more than your mother’s weight in gold!”
Dang… that’s a big number…
“Well, it is shiny…” I said, trying to change the subject.
“Yes it is. Now, there’s just the matter of your punishment left. You will have to eat 30 tons of Swiss cheese within a 24-hour period, and your friend Ben will have a liposuction!” he said evilly.
They found me doubled over in the bathroom the next day, and Ben was looking rather tragic, with the loss of his precious fat. Then, we were thrown into a cold, yet shiny cell. Days passed, and nothing happened. We (and by we, I mean me) made up our minds that we had to escape from this prison. I spat on the floor, and instantly an alarm went off. Within minutes, a robot polisher ran into the cell, and started scrubbing the floor. This was our opportunity, and we quickly disabled the little beast. Running into the long (and shiny!) hallways, we ran into a dead end. There was a big door, which we entered into. It was dark in there.
“Hey Ben, do you know where we are?” I whispered.
“Nope. Not a clue. Let’s poke around here, and try to find out” he answered.
So we just poked everything, and I finally caught onto something hairy-feeling.
“Hey, I found the light switch!” said Ben, as he turned on the lights.
When I saw what I was holding, I just wanted to turn off the lights and just walk away. It turns out that the Fuhrer wears a wig… or rather, he wore one, until I tore it off.
“I’ll rip your throat out!” shouted the Fuhrer, as he woke up.
With no warning, he pulled out a shiny iSword, and pointed it at me.
“So… who’s going to die first? You or your thin little friend?” he said.
Being a space driver, I always carried my standard-issue block of cheese, which I wasted no time in whipping out.
Strangely enough, my cheese block was stronger than his sword, and I soon cornered the bald Fuhrer.
“Luke… I am… your chemistry teacher… and you fail!” he said.
“Nooooo!” I shouted.
I knew that the only way to stop my imminent failure was to eliminate the Fuhrer. As I lunged at him with my block of cheese, he pressed the shiny red iButton next to him.
“Yes! Within minutes, my Stonedtroopers will have you surrounded, for I have pressed the alarm button!” he said.
“Uhhh… sorry to burst your shiny little bubble dude, but that’s the airlock button you pressed there...” I said happily.
As soon as I said this, a hole opened up in the wall and the poor Fuhrer was whisked out into the darkness of space. As I recall, his last words were:
The Stonedtroopers, sensing trouble, ran in within minutes. They were no problem, and some nice green cheese shut them up for quite some time.
Several days later, I was again maneuvering the ship through the asteroid belt, dodging meteors and asteroids. Ben, as usual was not helping at all, and had regained most of his weight after two visits to McDunwald’s. I knew everything was back to normal when he started barking at me to stop crashing into stuff.
Looking up, I saw a gleaming white metal surface ahead of me.
“Awww man! Here it goes again!”