For the next four weeks, I’ll be participating in NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month. The following is an excerpt from my project, The Thrilling Adventures of Clara Delaney; or, the Misfortunes of Isaac Rowe.
This passage is what happens when I run out of ideas, had a tough day at a somewhat unfriendly school, and frankly just want to write something silly.
The heroes have just returned from R&R on an alien planet to find their spaceship missing.
A ring sounded from Zork’s communicator. He pulled it out to find an incoming message from The Space Ship Beagle: a surprise. Not so much of one once he answered the call. The Someone appeared on the little screen… alone on the bridge, celebrating.
“I got your ship,” he said, “Since you so nicely fucked with my last one—”
“Oh my god,” Isaac said, “I didn’t DO it.”
“Popped it like a zit,” said the Someone, “so I figure you all owe me my ride. Since you all thwarted my plans to take over the ship while we were aboard—”
“He was planning to take over the ship?”
“—I’m taking it now, and leaving you here to rot!” The Someone laughed a perfect evil laugh: it built from a chuckle to a full-on, uncontrolled cackle. It was mirthful, bubbling out of him so purely that you knew he was delighted to the bottom of his soul. Zork groaned.
“Listen, you— you, that isn’t our ship. It’s the property of Geologic Interstellar. If you try to dock that vehicle anywhere within fuel range you’ll be arrested on the spot. They’re a big, powerful company. No one wants to be on their bad side. Re-dock now and we won’t report it stolen, man.”
The mad laugh continued.
“I don’t think he cares, Zork,” said Keer. “We should call it in.”
“Man, we let you in—”
“You don’t know who I am,” said the Someone. “I am Prince Rilnoo, ruler of the planet Vorkon! I am leader of the mighty wanderers, king of the Void!”
“RISE MY WARRIORS AND FEAST UPON MY FURY!”
Zork shut off his communicator. He looked pale. Issac was trying not to laugh. “Zork, that isn’t a real thing. That can’t be a real thing.”
There was a slight jolt to the space station as a hundred small ships, laden with throw pillows, all detached at once.
“It’s a real thing,” said Zork, “and it’s bad. Vorkites— Quick history lesson. Vorkon is batshit insane. They have about a billion princes and princesses, all mad as hats, and they declare war on anything for any reason. Not just countries— a couple years ago they declared war on parcels. Parcels. The mail was harrowing for months. And before that they declared war on the color blue. It’s just— they’re crazy. And I wouldn’t call them great military masterminds or anything, but their fertility is about as insane as they are. And they’re all geniuses when it comes to actual engineering.”
The space station jolted again.
“So we’re fucked,” said Isaac.
“So we’re fucked, said Keer.
“Not just yet,” said Zork. “All my boys can fly a ship. Think you lot can learn to aim?”