Not a member of Pastebin yet?
Sign Up,
it unlocks many cool features!
- Captain's Log: UNAF Research Vessel Epsilon
- In orbit around Athena IV, Macedon System
- Earth date: 17th June, 2345
- >SPACE! The final frontier!
- >Long has man stared in awe at the stars, and long have the stars been out of man's grasp
- >That is, until rockets and shit happened
- >Some dudes walked on the moon or something and everyone and their mom popped a boner
- >Now, I'm stuck flying around the ass end of nowhere on soufylyuugy.asdfhj7yuq390
- "Fwuffy wuv clacky wettews! Hehehehe!"
- >You are Captain Isaac Latt of the United Nations Armed Forces, commanding officer of the Epsilon, a state-of-the-art spacecraft, and you've just finished the first day of your new job
- >You WERE in the middle of typing up your take on the day's events, until one of the subjects escaped the labs
- >Your gaze slowly lowers from the holo-monitor to the keyboard and the vein in your forehead slowly becomes more defined
- >There, prancing all over the keys, is a Fluffy Pony
- >The boys back on Earth discovered centuries-old DNA that didn't match any living creature
- >Turns out, the DNA belonged to "Fluffy Ponies," also known as "Shit Dispensers"
- >Apparently, things on Earth got so bad a few hundred years back that they were eradicated
- >Upon their re-discovery, PETA, which is surprisingly still a thing, lost their shit
- >They wouldn't shut the hell up, so the government decided to do something about it
- >So, naturally, the government cloned some up and sent your sorry ass a few hundred light years from home to study them
- >The results were...less than satisfactory
- >You grab the horrid little creature by the scruff and bring it up to eye level
- "Listen to me, you little shit. You're lucky the only thing between you, me, and that vacuum is a single hull, or God help me there would be a plasma burn where your frontal lobe is right now."
- "Dat mean we gon' pway?"
- >You sigh and call for the science team to take the abomination back to containment
- "Hey, Jim, if that thing escapes again, it's going out the airlock. Understood?"
- "Yes, sir..."
- >You slump down in your chair and try to wrap your head around what the galactic fuck is happening
- >It's barely been a single day, and already four shits have been taken on the bridge alone
- >The Fluffies managed to break containment more times than you care to count
- >Honestly, security in the labs is pretty lax at the moment
- >Cute little ponies hardly call for standard protocol
- >Just a few hours ago, you were fine with that, as long as they stayed in the labs
- >Now, you're considering using the plasma cutters to scare the things into submission
- "How the hell did I get roped into this job...?"
- >You get up and start to head toward the labs, reminiscing as you go
- >You miss the good old days of space battles and alien booty
- >Now you've got to deal with your crew of retarded manchildren constantly trying to play with the Fluffies
- "Nyeh! But Cap'n, we were just pwaying!" you say in a mocking tone
- >You eventually arrive in the ship's bio-lab
- "Captain on deck!" Sylvan, the resident suckup, shouts
- "Shut the fuck up, Sylvan." you respond
- >You begin walking around the lab for an impromptu inspection
- >Everyone else is quietly going about their business, the silence occasionally broken by a giggle or some baby talk
- >The Fluffies are, for the most part, asleep
- >Some are still playing or eating, and at least one has managed to choke to death on its water bottle
- >That's alright, though, since there's about FOUR FUCKING MILLION OF THE LITTLE SHITS IN STASIS
- >You frown, head up to your quarters, frown some more, and pour yourself a drink
- >It's going to be a LONG mission...
- >You are Jim Townsend, a UNAF scientist
- >You are currently looking after Fluffers Vakarian, your personal favorite Fluffy
- >His coat is pale silver, and his mane is a blueish purple
- >Based on the data your team has dug up, he is what was once called an "Earth Fluffy"
- "Let's see...vitals, check...appetite, check...blah blah blah..."
- >You go down your extensive checklist and check off everything except "DECEASED?"
- >Apparently these little guys are going to be reintroduced to Earth to be sold as bio-toys by some rich motherfucker
- >He owns some company...Weyland something or other
- >You move on to the day's final test: intelligence
- "Hey there, little guy! How do you feel?"
- "Fwuffy sweepy..."
- >It understands you, that's a start
- "Well, you can go to sleep after you answer a few questions, okay?"
- "Otay, daddeh!"
- "I'm not your daddy. I'm just here to make sure you don't die."
- >A look of sheer confusion creeps onto the Fluffy's face
- "Buh yu daddeh! Yu gif food an pway wif fwuffy!"
- >You can't be bothered to deal with this, so you just mark its mental status as "Retarded"
- >Sure, it's cute, but you really don't feel like dealing with this kind of thing, so you put him to bed
- "Alright, Fluffers, sleep tight. I'll be back tomorrow."
- "Night daddeh! ...whah ta... too... mowwow mean?"
- >You slap your forehead and make a second check in the Retarded box
Add Comment
Please, Sign In to add comment