Like broken branches, destroyed by a hurricane, they fell
He didn’t want to go. He knew it was a bad idea from the moment he got up. He had a bad feeling about it. Actually, he had quite an annoying habit of constantly telling his colleagues he had a bad feeling about whatever it was that they were about to do.
“I got a bad feeling about this,” he’d say.
Having been on numerous jobs together and becoming familiar with one another’s habits, everyone knew that this ‘bad feeling’ was simply a mild case of what they call in the Corps a ‘gentleman’s infection’ (probably best if you didn’t ask).
Nevertheless, this particular job was one that —– was right in having a bad feeling about. It turned out that a rapacious family of xenomorphs had recently taken up residence in the basement of the facility and had incapacitated the inhabitants of the whole colony, turning them into surrogate parents in the process.
The powers that be weren’t too happy about this arrangement (or were they?), so it fell to —– and his brothers (and sisters) in arms to quell this infestation. Due to the machinations of a certain unscrupulous corporate prick a clerical oversight though, the team was killed on site. Well, I say team, but a civilian advisor, a flirty corporal, an affable artificial person and a little blond orphan did survive that fateful weekend on LV426.
The irony was, —– only had one week to go with the course of treatment for his infection. Shame, really.
The fluffy little bunny slippers…of doom!
By: Lydia Crow
They sat on the floor staring at her with their baleful eyes. She shuddered and hugged her knees, pulling them protectively towards her chest.
So this is what she had become.
She had always prided herself on being the tough girl; someone who sneered at all things typically associated with women whose brains were addled by the prospect of romance or cute whimsies.
It had been creeping up on her slowly; she was unwittingly being dragged into a world where her long-standing morals didn’t fit in. The relationship had developed so slowly she hadn’t noticed her independent lifestyle slipping through her fingers like syrup.
So he had bought her the slippers. And the worst thing was she liked them. She liked them without irony, without derision, without even a playful condescending comment.
No. She would have to think about this.