[stupid fiction] The MILFship's a-comin'

 26-3-19

Bad news, brother: the MILFship has arrived in orbit at last. People all over the planet are gonna be able to see the sharp lines and hard edges, coasting, skipping, or under steady boost from those drive nozzles at the stern; which, as no other apertures of note can be detected on the MILFship's surface, means this monster is powering around OUR ATMOSPHERE, Phil, on a fucking relativistic --interstellar -- star drive, you know what that is? 

It is that roman candle that a cruel bachelor uncle won't let you shoot off, children are simply TOO SMALL, TOO PUNY to manage a fine piece of Guyanan manufacture like this, oh you had a charmer like Big Cousin Hanno too?

Yeah, so instead of that dime store De Sade only barely not burning us alive instead of just our shoes catching fire along with topsoil to 6 inches down some places, down to the incombustible sand with that only-barely-technically-sub-military ordnance!!!!!! HANNO!!!  Phil, do you know I have a six centimeter wide patch on my left foot where i cannot feel a goddam thing, not a pinprick or a dropped pot or icecube against that skin can i feel, because why? Because funny Hanno told us all that first brunch at Grandpa's: he's got warrants, but he won't bore us with the details, oh no. Not even that it ain't manners to talk shop, not over Gre-Gre-Gramma's.

No, he was pleased with the whole thing, he said. It was an achievement, a professional distinction for his tricky, innovative, cutting-edge, highly confidential line of work: if they were REAL charges, you can just say what it is, but to rub so long and hard up against the outside of Johnny Law's police car that at last he's had it, he's hurting himself 6 ways from Sunday by coming right to you; but son of a bitch, Mr Mayor, it may not be a crime, but right on my panels like that? and on the  tactical winch! That is for emergencies of a mechanical nature only! So for those pictures to be all over instagram, that's not a crime, no sir, but it may well be a COVER OPERATION TO DISTRACT AND CONFUSE THE ARM OF THE LAW! And meanwhile, what's Old Cousin Hanno up to? Well of course he was confusing and distracting them, what you think, girl? They're 5.0, if they're not watching me and my antics? foibles? Every sizable city's got enough cops looking for a scrap, and enough dumb kids too fuckin dumb to know how mad they're making the cops, who are going to be embarrassed arresting  this idiots, embarrassed at their existence, and real hard hot crushing shame that their law enforcement prowess gets demeaned, dishonored, if he were to arrest dumb kids and old drunks, which is why they just get a one-two-three ju-jitsu beatdown, Hanno is sharp as a knife you can keep in your boot top or an inside pleat of a jacket. Yeah, like that one junior there found! Ahahaha lemme get a picture, kids under 4 with knives?! you got no idea what an item that is, ahahaha, yeah no you do gotta get that from him, though, he musta been in my boots in the mudroom, hahahaha, no seriously gimme my knife.

and so anyway, that heavily armed starship burning donuts in our air with an engine that's not goddam cousin Hanno's roman candle, no Guyanan manufacture with the elegant design goal of only just technically missing classification as ordnance, and the legal hassles.....

[ aahaha well that may be at least 2 concepts worth of story, and perhaps breaking off description of the MILFship was good. I just got the idea for the huge roman candle and cousin Hanno & had to go with it. -Satrap] 

i want to say something about the starship, that it is large and dangerous looking, but not like military hardware: like walking around with practiced balance in what could only be described as short sword heels, my 1 minute search for a blade type just distinctly longer than a stiletto first showing WWI & WWI commando knives, and the point is, the starship has the danger that one might feel at a party, feeling nervous & defensive with this bunch of people; muttering  while carrying plastic cups too full of peanuts in the one and lukewarm Heineken in the other, so--preoccupied, right? Right alongside you on the floor, CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK, you see the weaponized heels, rhinestones ablaze, 

and it is not  aspirational club kitten Caelia-Mae's night to discover she can't pull off these heels, no, they bear up a person with the strength, balance, and self-control to pilot such shoes without causing injury or major property damage, but that is no more frightening than not killing yourself the first time on roller blades. The short-sword heels, worn by a person who not only avoids humiliation and injury, but manages the intense energy field propagating radially from the weaponized heels to a great many staring, riveted, transfixed faces of folks who never thought they'd meet an actual living dryad at a Bronx party; and when you saw how s\he held this cloud of electric sex in containment, letting a wave knock into a particularly ogreish customs attorney, who tripped into the salt water aquarium as he pivoted to watch....