Walter felt sick.... -- Starbase Rugby: Docking Bay

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Date Posted: 21:50:10 07/30/02 Tue
Author: Walter Patterson
Subject: Walter felt sick....
In reply to: Chester Mann 's message, "Cereal Killer" on 13:25:54 07/28/02 Sun

...he felt his lunch rising in his throat, then remembered he hadn't eaten yet. His heart pounded as he tried to keep from hyperventilating, all the while his mind focused on something Kathryn had just said...

"'he's just a desk clerk in the brig.'

'....a desk clerk in the brig.'

'.... just a desk clerk....'

She just doesn't know what I'm capable of...."

Walter looked around as the horrible tentacle thing trudged off with his prize. He spied a crowbar not five feet away and realized it would have to do.

"HEY UGLY!" He shouted in a deep and commanding bass tone. The tentacle-thing turned its one eye toward him, a look of hatred and annoyance and underestimation. Walter began charging at the thing even as it tossed Kathryn aside, tentacles flailing. Walter leapt into the air, kicking off the wall, and somersaulted between the straining tentacles. He bounded off the cockpit of a nearby shuttle pod, tucked and rolled, and thrust the crowbar into the tentacle-thing's eye.

The thing screeched as Walter twisted the crowbar and flung himself off of it, performing another midair somersault before landing in a graceful crouch with his back to his foe. He stood as the creature inexplicably exploded and caught the blond beauty inexplicably still tumbling through the air. She hung limp in his arms, lost in his eyes, caressing the tiny hairs on his chest where his uniform had torn. They gazed into one another's eyes, blinking slowly, as he lifted her closer so their lips could...

Walter shook his head, dispelling the daydream. It was a ridiculous fantasy, like some scenario scripted in his holonovels. He didn't write to share with others or to try to make a living at something other than being a lowly clerk; he wrote only to escape. Only now wasn't the time for escapism; now was the time for REAL heroism.

Shaking, and still a little nauseous, he got to his feet and looked around. No crowbar, no weapon. Just the usual crowd of freaks in the docking bay into which a three foot tentacled cyclopean demon could actually not attract much attention. Well he'd gotten Walter's, and that was his first and last mistake. Walter reached out to the dark power of the WR@, summoning their residual dark energies, and became a willing Usurped. Red death blazed forth from his eyes as he vaporized...

That one was stupid too. The WR@ were gone, their energy source destroyed, and the attitude on the station had finally been brightened once more. Rugby was a hearty lot, and for Walter to fantasize about such things was dangerous. He was going to have to do this the real way.

He turned to run back to the medlabs and stumbled over a nearby refueling line. He slipped on the fuel spraying forth from the dislodged hose and stumbled headlong into a stack of magazine crates labelled 'L.P." His last conscious sight was of the fuel spraying on the deck, spreading out to where the tentacle-thing was still trudging away with his dream girl....

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Replies:

Chortle -- Chester Mann, 12:40:19 07/31/02 Wed
- Jabberwocky -- VertiCal & HorizontAl, 13:15:31 07/31/02 Wed
  - Malas Palabras -- VertiCal & HorizontAl, 16:48:07 08/04/02 Sun
    - He had the oddest feeling that he wasn't even supposed to be here today... -- Walter Patterson, 21:23:45 08/04/02 Sun
      - Cal & Silent Al -- "Not so fast!", 00:01:36 08/05/02 Mon