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The morphs can't survive in my blood stream. Too many chemicals in there.

Find the real captain, will you? We can settle this once and for all and return to more normal operation.




munk
 
You know who really needs to pop up in this thread.

Spell it don't say it...
 
munk said:
The morphs can't survive in my blood stream. Too many chemicals in there.
Click to expand...

Oh, I don't think they'll have any trouble surviving in your bloodstream. Of course, they might have to remove it from your body first to fit; they get pretty large...

queen3_.jpg


--Josh
 
And here comes the morphed DUCK, Oh Hell, he was just here, what happpened to him now?!?!?!? He said he was gonna be a merc for the Security Team!!!!
I even bought him a merc ring, you know the one with the figure of death on it. yea, pure sterling silver too.
Hit a werewolf, or a xenophobe with it and "POOF" off planet and off ship they go, literally out of existence!!!!
 
Hmmmm... The hull, perforated with 50 cal. holes is leaking pressurized atmosphere like a sieve. A notorious black duck has absconded with all your mesquite barbecue sauce. SpecOps from the Stonewall Union have boarded ship to commandeer the rainbow colored anal probes. Your crew has mutinied, dosed you good and confined you to the brig/toilet/storage closet.

Land that bucket before she goes down in flames Danny. We'll fill it full of sand and charge all the neighborhood cats 25 cents per use :D
 
I've unstasised the last hundred dots of Augustus Stanley Owsley's finest, after that we're down to the Sandoz labs stuff. We do have some ergot starter stashed away in case we have to decontaminate, after the duck, though.

Huh - that reminds me it's time for my medication - be right back.
 
Wait! Wait! Why do I report to the Chef? I thought I was a Warbot type Stiff-Legged Robot Mk. IV - with a plasma arc, rail-gun arms and Level Ten-Rated Mono-Molecular armor. I wouldn't take orders from no stinkin' Chef like Josh. (Or maybe I serve breakfast.)

And I LAUGH at your 50 cal MG, Munk. Ha! Hopeless primitives. :yawn:
 
That's right, you punks!
Wait till you get a taste of my Warbot type Stiff-Legged Robot !

You're all in deep poopoo.
 
munk said:
I've got 50 cal depleted uranium ammor piercing, Robot.


munk
Click to expand...

Bullets; HA! Stick to your Red Button. It takes a nuke or a pumped laser to penetrate my armor. Try that inside the ship and we're all toast. (Then again, maybe Chef Josh wants to serve toast for breakfast. :) )

Give me my orders, Pilot. I am to serve. Clack, clack. :mad: :mad: :mad:
 
Forget bullets, munk. Try frying his CPU with a logical paradox.

jake
 
Go ahead and Try! Two dox, three dox, four dox; it takes more than dox to scare me!!! Clank; clank. :grumpy: :grumpy: :grumpy:
 
Just seal the corridor where the robot is marching and jet his ass into space.

Get rid of the Pilotsan too. Sicking the Lost in Space Robot on us was the last straw.



munk
 
I know it's all in fun, but this thread seems to have taken an ugly turn, and I'm not sure why. Too much animosity for me.

--Josh
 
By God! Space that Do-gooder Josh.


...............

I'm afraid the tone became irrevocable once Pilot san starting capturing women and assigning homosexual depravities out to the crew.

OK, free the women, do the standard mind wipe, let them back into the Burbs from whence they came, and I'll be willing to start over. Fair enough, Pilot san?


munk
 
OK, we've gotten from earth to the moon. Probably should find a repair shop and have the mechanical problems from the shakedown cruise fixed.

Does anyone have a chart of the backside of the moon? Do we even have a copy of the yellow pages for Luna?
 
And no, we're not sending the women back with alien/human hybrid fetuses either. And no, no little Danny san's hatching in 9 months, when we're safely in Alpha Centuri.

munk
 
This crew needs spiritual guidance. Is there a priest available on the Moon for hire?


munk
 
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