(installment 5)
What I did figure was how to short the fuel tank. I could sneak over the horizon real quiet-like and flash the Spider before it got wise to it was being chased. Of course, that would vaporize the ship. In a few million years, the Spider's dead hulk will be tectonically recycled - look Mama, no muss, no fuss, no annoying alien artifact!
And then I had an even better idea. Must be the cop smack greasing my brain. I was gonna get into a space suit and do a sort of soft re-entry onto the beach. No way I would survive, but the gamma burst didn't kill all of me. Us. There's billions of mites, protozoa, bacteria and even viruses in even the cleanest human bod, and my tenants were setting up to chow down as my body was shutting down. And that cop suit would keep the whole mess from cooking right up to the beach, where it would kinda open up. Poor impact rating. Don't get me wrong ... I'm not complaining or nothing ... mostly cuz I'm feeling no pain. Cops keep a classy first aid box, you know? I'm doped to the eyebrows, well, where they used to be.
So my carcass is gonna go splat on the beach and jumpstart evolution and undo the damage done by the Spiders.
Fergit Ishmael, call me Adam. Remember - that's Joey Rizzini, father of all mankind. Mother, too. <long bout of racking coughs>
Okay - final course looks good. There's the Spider - on course, on time. Arrivederci, motherf*<coughing>
I gotta stop recording now. Time to suit up and go on a little walk in the moonlight. Heck, maybe the recorder box will fall into friendly pincers one day.
Eddie Carcano, you cheating scum, if ya ever get to hear this - you owe me like you can't believe. I mean - like you just flat can't believe. You weaselly rat bastard. I'm saving your ugly hairy ass, not that I got a real choice here. But it just eats me that you'll never know who looked out for you. OK enough of this crap - end recording; engage Emergency Sequence “Pussywhip”. <cough suddenly terminated; end of file> |
