This is Part 5 of a community-written sci-fi parody serial.
Part 1: Steem Wars: No, I Would Not Recommend This Product, by @tanglebranch
Part 2: In Space, No One Can Hear Your Spleen, by @negativer
Part 3: Steemwars - To Shoot or Not to Shoot, Never the Question, by @jasonbu
Part 4: Steemwars - For Whom the Toenails, by @tanglebranch
Part 5: Steemwars - Starship Twerkers, by @negativer (this thing you're reading now)
Our mission:
As delivered by @gmuxx, The Time Lord: Your crew is to visit the Spleen system and investigate a time-space-interface anomaly, which interferes with Strawberro 9's atmosphere.
Our crew:
Galacdictator Tangle (@tanglebranch): Character profile here
Underlord Negavader (@negativer): Character profile here
Byepeex Reist-Stoomtrooper Destroyer (@jasonbu): Character profile here
Sixty-Wine (@caleblailmusik): Character profile here
On Board: The Intangible
Perfector Class War Vessel
Serial Number BYOB-9021-O
Location: The surface of Strawberro 9.
The breasts hung in the sky in much the same way bricks didn't.
I couldn't shake the thought from my head, and then I couldn't shake the thought of shaking from my head.
I shook like a bowl of pudding, then finally tore my eyes from them as they floated in the sky like a pleasant armageddon.
I was Underlord Negavader. I had to focus. My mission was still clear. To determine the issue on this increasingly strange planet of Strawberro 9. And to discover why this large, handsome brute had suddenly started shooting at me.
"You!" I called to him all the bravado I could muster for a man wearing a red shirt and huddled over a box of robot parts that smelled of red wine and regret. "What say you stop shooting at me and pick up my robot parts and follow me? I need some help."
The man obliged with a nod, holstering his manly pistol that I guessed the brute was using to compensate for something. He bent over to pick up the loose parts that were Sixty-Wine, showing his very attractive and dangerous butt-cheeks to me. Surely that was not intentional. The man looked like he had twerked since birth. Those butt-cheeks could bring down a kingdom. A planet. A galaxy.
Or a Galacdictator.
"What's your name, big guy?"
"Byepeex Reist Stoomtrooper Destroyer," he grunted. "But you can call me Pex." The components of Sixty-Wine nestled in the box like a sleeping, disassembled baby. Atop him lay the reams of marketing materials that promoted Galacdictator Tangle as the new lord and master of this pink planet.
"Alright, Beefcake von Pectoral. No stormtroopers here. But you can help me. My Lordess Galacticalamity Tangle ordered us to distribute these pamphlets of propaganda. These documents of indoctrination. These..." I was at a loss for words. I waved my hand helplessly, looking for a third nugget of wordplay to complete my trio.
"Handouts of hype?" Pex offered helpfully.
"That's not helpful," I said. "Adverbs are never helpful. They only cause pain." I faded out for a moment in a shimmer of remembered agony. So many whips. Such pain...
"Yo. Underfjord Navigator. I'd like to meat your boss lady."
"Did you just say you wanted to meat her?" That was highly inappropriate for a PG-rated story.
"No. Get your head out of the gutter. I said I wanted to meet her. What are we doing on this boob of a planet?"
"Conquering. And discovering the source of the sky breasts. And distributing leaflets."
"Let's be about it then."
I liked this new guy. I considered offering him my red shirt as a token of my esteem.
While we had been deep in intelligent conversation, a group of locals had approached. They stood at a distance, but more than a few pointed at the sky with wonder. All the men. The ladies rolled their eyes non-stop. All that rolling might be enough to shift the planet's orbit.
Ah. But here was my chance.
I went to the box of Sixty-Wine parts and the sheaf of marketing materials, reaching in to grab some leaflets. Well, I used Sixty-Wine's hand to grab some leaflets. I didn't really want to touch them myself seeing as how they came from Lardess Tangle's own hands. And Sixty-Wine wasn't using his hand at the moment anyway.
With my hand, I held out the hand of leaflets to the locals.
"Hey," I said with all the skill and diplomacy I knew. "Want to be dictated to?"
They shook their heads.
"No problem." I distributed the leaflets into the nearest garbage can. That job was done. "Ok. Want some help with your boob problem?" A few of the ladies looked down at their chests with indignation, but the men shook their heads as one.
"No, we rather like it. They remind us of...borscht and perogies. Thanks all the same," one man said. The rest nodded, looking skyward with all the solemnity of monks in prayer. The women were elbowing their men in the sides like their sole mission in life was to turn their kidneys to jelly.
"Aight." I shrugged. "Pex, we've done all we can here. Dump the junk and lets head back to the ship."
Pex dropped the box of Sixty-Wine into the garbage can.
"Um. Keep the spare parts. I rather like him, yes?"
"Yes." Pex nodded. "Good for target practice." He fished out the remaining leaflets and scattered them to the wind. "Fly. Be free," he whispered, a tear on his cheek. Then he pulled out his pistol and shot them down one at a time.
I stared silently.
Ok, then.
My radio communicator booped on my chest. Damn. I touched my nipple. Wrong one. I tried the other. Nothing happened. My nipple booped again. What the hell? I had only two, right?
"You can touch my nipple if you want." Pex stood all to close to me, watching my struggle.
"I'm...good. Thanks." I lifted my red shirt and saw a third nipple, and my communicator was attached to that.
I didn't remember having a third nipple. What is up with this planet?
I tapped it anyway. My commlink opened, and Galacdorktaco Tangle's voice slipped through the ether like a bucket of buttered eels, winnowing its way into my ear with all the pleasantness of a fat man at a donut eating contest.
"Hey! Are you done down there? We have a problem up here on the ship. There's glitter everywhere. I need you to clean it up. And my toes need serious attention."
My beefcake friend sidled up to me in a way that made me uncomfortable with his closeness. That is to say, if he were any closer I'd be pregnant by now.
"Is that your boss? Will you take me to see her?" He swooned.
Big, handsome men swooning are truly not a pretty sight. Still, my new friend was suddenly worth his weight in gold. And that was a lot of gold. If my boss was distracted, that meant I had a better chance of usurping her power.
And usurping, of course, was my ultimate goal.
"Pex, buddy, pal. Let's go meet your new boss." I tapped my third nipple. "Beam us up!"
To be continued....
WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW MORE?
STEEM Wars is the brainchild of @gmuxx. It is a community creativity parody project with a sci-fi basis. Read more in the following links:
Also, I suggest @jasonbu and @caleblailmusik assemble entries for comedy open mic round 14 as well, or at least a continuation of the story.
Steemwars graphic by @gmuxx
Title image by @negativer using Canva and movie still from The Chronicles of Riddick
Planet image from Pixabay.
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