One of our cargo pods broke up in the planet’s atmosphere, strewn over sparsely-populated prairie. Fortunately the humans think it was one of their own launch vehicles.
We’ve been driving one of their “you haul” land carriers to collect fragments from a farmer. We wear our human shapesuits, practising their strange language: “Ja, we are from SpaceSex.” We know no other phrases.
It goes well, but we almost blow our cover when one of the locals offers us indigestible snack food. We hurry away.
On the way, we pass the real human pickup party, their impossibly angular truck bogged beside the road. We wave.
One of our cargo pods broke up in the planet’s atmosphere, strewn over sparsely-populated prairie. Fortunately the humans think it was one of their own launch vehicles.
We’ve been driving one of their “you haul” land carriers to collect fragments from a farmer. We wear our human shapesuits, practising their strange language: “Ja, we are from SpaceSex.” We know no other phrases.
Gregory's Server
@FutzleFiction As brilliant as the gonzo story that inspired it!
@FutzleFiction The white cable-knit sweater gave them away. Who would wear such an item handling garbage?
@FutzleFiction Hah! @sundogplanets