Crappy New Year

Well, there was no way he was going to make that new years eve party, was there? It would probably be almost over by now, and he had been so looking forward to it too.

Barney Wilson splashed his way through the ankle deep liquid to a pile of semi-solid sludge, he sat down and pondered his next move.

He wasn't in any immediate danger, the creature's stomach acid wasn't strong enough to eat through his suit, at least not for months, and he was hoping to be out of here just a smidgen before that happened.

He glanced around, his helmet light picking out the glistening contours of the organic chamber. High above his head was the opening of the slimy tube he had slid down after being swallowed, no chance of reaching that, and probably no way past the oesophagus even if he could.

His light illuminated another fleshy opening, just out of reach on the curve of the stomach wall.

Several minutes later and Wilson had managed to cobble together a crude ramp by piling various coloured lumps of half-digested vegetation, decomposing animal carcases, bits of bones, hooves, and god only knew what else. He scrambled up the slithery slope and pulled his way head first into the slippery tube.

Wilson squidged and squelched his way along the tunnel, through many twists and turns, his helmet light barely piercing the gloom as he part swam, part crawled through the semi-liquid contents, all the while accompanied by the gurgling sounds of intestinal music.

Suddenly the tunnel lurched violently, several times. Wilson was slung about this way and that, the panic welled up in him causing his own bowels to void.

“Great! At least before I couldn't smell what I was swimming through.” He thought to himself. “If there's one thing worse than a fart in a spacesuit...”

Wilson fought back the urge to vomit, and began crawling forward again.

The tunnel contracted and relaxed increasingly rapidly, and Wilson felt himself starting to move forward. Faster and faster he was carried along, gaining momentum all the while.

The light was almost blinding as he was ejected out into the daylight, from several metres up he flew downwards like a bullet towards an enormous pile of brown coloured dung, the lights went out again as he landed head first, projected up to his thighs into the soft mess. Small tremors shuddered through his legs as more of the squelchy stuff splatted onto his calves and the soles of his boots, burying his body completely.

Eventually Wilson managed to claw his way out of the filth, cleared his visor, and looked around him.

His ship was still there, and in the distance the lumbering form of the leviaslurp as it headed towards the tree line, and it's natural habitat. What the hell had the gormless animal been doing out here on the plain in the first place?

In Wilson's experience bad things usually came in threes. When a meteor storm had headed his way he had been forced to make an emergency landing on this ball, taking some damage in the process. He had climbed out of his ship to assess the damage only to be swallowed by a toothless, hairless, brainless, six hundred ton herbivore that was too stupid to tell the difference between meat and plant, and the third baddie, having his spacesuit covered in shit, both outside and inside. It could only go uphill from here.

Unfortunately for Wilson, fate decided that the swallowing and the crapping were both part of the same baddie, number two. With a roar of engines, a myriad of flashing orange lights, and a swirling of dust, baddie number three landed in the form of a brightly painted, red and yellow towship, her side emblazoned with the words...

I.T.C. - INTERGALACTIC TOW Co – YOUR PRIDE AND JOY IS OURS

Wilson walked over to greet the rather large, booted and suited guy who climbed out of the towship.

“Boy, am I glad to see you...” He began.

“Save your breath mister, and don't come any closer either.” Said the ITC guy, wrinkling his nose as he took in Wilson's disgusting suit decorations.

“Look mate, I need a little help here...” Spluttered Wilson.

“Can't you read?” Said the ITC man, and he pointed his finger at a barely visible speck in the distance.

Wilson switched on his visor zoom scope, about three hundred yards away, sticking out of the scrubby landscape was a signpost. Wilson fine tuned the focus and the blurred sign became readable.

“TOW ZONE – DO NOT PARK HERE AT ANY TIME – EVER”

“Yeah but...” Began Wilson.

The guy just slammed a ticket into Wilson's gloved palm. “Look mate, I'm just doing my job, okay? Seven hundred credits for the vehicle seizure, plus eighty credits per day storage, the sooner you pay up the sooner you get your vehicle back, and the less it costs.”

The ITC man coupled up the grapple beams then began climbing back into his towship.

Just before he slammed the hatch shut the ITC man hesitated, then said “Oh, and err... Happy new year.”

Wilson watched as the towship fired its thrusters, then headed skywards in a graceful arc taking his own vehicle along with it. There was a bluish flash as the driver punched into FTL drive, and both ships disappeared from view.

Wilson sat down on a nearby rock, and wondered what the chances were of flagging down a cruising Stellarcab in this neighbourhood.


©2013 Stephen. J. Green.

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Happy new year everyone, and best wishes for you all for 2014

Steve.

•。★ 　☾ °☆ 　. * ● ¸ .　　　★　° ☆¸.✶*¨`* •.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*• ¸.¸.☆¨¯`♥´¸¸.☆¨¯`♥´ ¸¸.☆¨¯` •*¨`*•. ☆ .•*¨`*•. ☆‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀☆‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀☆ 。☆‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀☆‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀☆ 。 •。★ 　☾ °☆ 　. * ● ¸ .　　　★　° ☆¸.✶*¨`*