Monday, July 04, 2005

Space Hippies

Space hippies.

If there's one thing I can't stand is those $#@& space hippies.

So I am traveling along in the great nothing and I hear a distress beacon pinging. Of course, because traveling space is very dangerous, Intergalactic Charter Section 11 Code 38 states that capable craft within the vicinity of a distress signal are required to respond. It is all automated with the ships, there wasn't a thing that I could do about it. The charter says "respond," it doesn't say "lend assistance." But when you get close to a distress call, what are you supposed to do?

The Danger Sled got close to the origin of the signal. I rubbed my forehead with my hand and stared at the thing in front of me.

It looked like some semi-spaceworthy craft cobbled together from a couple different vehicles with panels and peace signs slapped together along the hull. I sighed heavily when I heard the radio crackle to life.

"Hey, man, you got any spare ions?"

As if I am some sort of intergalactic coast guard who carries cans of ions around to recharge everyone's containment fields. "I have some here," I reluctantly answered. "When we connect ships, my Emergency Repair Unit can take a look at your engines."

"Far out, man!"

Our ships connected and one by one, I got a look at the clown car of hippies.

"Thanks, for the lift, man, you want some brownies?"

"Got any spice?"


"Far out, man."

"Wanna jam?"

"Are you jonesin' for some Ben and Jerry's? I sure am, dude."

"This place is trippin'..."

These hippies were filthy, in the vast emptiness of the cosmos, I don't know where they find so much dirt. They all had far out names like "Star Child" and "Moonbeam," too. My ERU was making some quick repairs and the eldest, a dusty, grungy guy with space dirt all over his space overalls looks at me. "Thanks for the repairs, man. We can trade you some beads and some Dead tapes."

"No, that's fine," I reply. I just want to get on my way.

"Hey, man, what if the whole universe was just one little atom on another universe?"

"Whoa, that's heavy," they all answer as if he was the first guy to come up with a thought like that.

The ERU got their ship ready to go and the hippies climbed back aboard and got ready for departure.

"Hey thanks a lot, spaceman," said the ersatz leader. "Remember, no matter where you go, there you are."

There was a chorus of "whoa's" and "wow's" as the iris snapped shut. They rocketed their way and I went mine. Maybe I can set the IFF to identify space hippies.


j00|{z said...

Piloting spacecraft while high; are you sure that's legal?

Man, I just realized... I am the 'ow' in the word 'wow'

Jean-Luc Picard said...

Hey, they were real far out guys!

Aayla Secura said...

Space hippies...gross...

Karnov said...

I had to "respond" to a distress call too once. I think my ships Class IX Quantum Torpedoes were a good response.

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