The Danger Sled was sitting in a field just a few counties shy of Professor Xavier’s mansion. Hudson and I were standing under the wing and looking at the hole in the fuselage.
“I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: any landing you can walk away from is a good one,” I muttered.
“I thought we were goners there for a minute,” Hudson added. “Game over – forever.”
“This plane can fly with just one engine,” I said. “The thing is, where did that storm come from and how could lighting cause my ship to go down like that? It shouldn’t.”
“I dunno, all I know is that you proved once again that a grunt belongs on the ground.” He bent down and hugged the ground. “I love you, man. Don’t ever leave me again.”
My awkward staring at Hudson was interrupted by my Emergency Repair Droid beeping frantically.
“What is it?” I asked. It floated around the hull and continued it’s beeping. “What th—Hey Hudson, take a look at this.”
“Yeah, what is it, man?”
“This burn hole right here.” I pointed to where the ERD was pointing. “How do you suppose a lighting strike would do something like that?”
“I dunno,” Hudson shrugged.
“This was too precise,” I added. “Somehow, someone brought up a storm to create a cover, then fired some sort of weapon at my ship. They almost got away with it, too.”
“So who could control the weather?” the private asked.
“Storm could,” I answered. “I can’t see why she would be involved in an attack like this, though. I’ve heard that a Scottish weapons dealer has a weather dominator, but that seems pretty far fetched to me.”
“Yeah, that seems kinda dumb,” Hudson snorted. “Scottish weapons dealer.”
The ERD beeped at me once again.
“He says that the burn is fairly consistent with the burn caused by a particle weapon,” I said. “Fortunately, the damage isn’t severe, so we’ll be back in the air in no time.”
“Screw that, man,” Hudson bawled. “I’m walking.”
“You know it’s 20 or so miles to the X-Mansion, right?”
Hudson looked at me quietly for a minute.
“Fine, I’ll go in the ship.”
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Don't worry, we're OK
Posted by Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator at 18:20
Labels: Presidential Campaign, Private Hudson, Professor Xavier
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10 comments:
Storm controller huh? Hudson hasn't met Thor lately has he?
Perhaps Storm just wanted to spend a little quality time with Hudson? She's funny that way.
Now's the time, Jon, when a bunch of scantily clad and extremely hot women with adequate mechanical skills would likely emerge from the shadows all around (as funky techno music plays in the background) and offer to repair your ship in exchange for a rocket ride to someplace, but no place in particular...
... if your ship were named the Poonanny Hoopty Wagon, that is....
That does it - I'm gonna start a petition.
Send Storm over here to make sure we don't get any snow.
It looks to me like that holes was caused by a Monkerstein flatulance laser. (Caution! Don't light a match!) He's probably the one who put the banana in your tailpipe, too.
Does Hudson have any real use?
I guess I could have done it as I was passing through time
Burn hole? Looks more like a satellite with a nipple.
you know my motto "never turst a monkey!"
not that it helps with this problem, but I just htought it should be said.
I agree, Mr. (cl)one.
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