The more folly you have, the more wise you can possibly become.
V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet
Now, here’s the thing: It was so dark, I couldn’t see a thing. The path we were supposed to follow, however, was lit up by blue lights.
That was convenient, I must say. After all, without those lights, I probably would have tripped or fallen a few hundred times.
So good of them to include those.
I must’ve stopped for a minute or two, ’cause the lady behind me (you know, the one with the huge briefcase) gave me a friendly tap.
“Keep moving!” she said, quietly.
And I did, of course.
Okay, so I’ll be honest with you: The launch chairs surprised the grubs out of my ears.
The launch chairs were in rows. And there was a sort of canopy above each row. What a thing.
When the line stopped moving, I was in front of a chair.
And the professor did what the professor knew he had to do.
I stowed my pack in the basket below the seat, and sat down. (The seat was sorta web-y. That’s how it felt, at least. Like outdoor furniture, see.)
And I buckled in, too, because. Just because.
The lady with the huge briefcase barely got that mammoth stowed under her seat, but she managed it.
A veteran of the huge briefcase, truly.
Then she took her seat. Within minutes, everyone was seated.
That’s when the voice came back, because we’d all missed it:
Intergalactic Flight 10 is about to Launch. Green light.
And that’s when the rows left the ground, leaving my feet to dangle helplessly in the dark air, like a bunch of butterflies caught in a net.
And we were moving, through the blackness.
I turned to the lady next to me.
“Where are we going?”
She leaned close and whispered: “We’re being carried to our launch ship.”
And she was right. We entered into some sort of rocket looking thingy (tough to see ’cause of the light, mind). Each row was above another row. And yes, the feet were still dangling.
Sorta like this:
Then there was a hiss and shout as the rocket closed us in.
Trapped, we were.
Dark, it was.
That’s when there was a loud boom, and we sorta blasted off at that point, I bet.
It was sorta enjoyable.
After a bit, lights came on, and a voice came over the loudspeakers:
“Hey, honeys, this is Manly-Man and I’s your Captain for the flight. We should be landing on Honi Planet in a little bit. Okay. Bye.”
Great. What could possibly go wrong with him as the pilot?
I decided to forget about it. See, I wiped the whole thing from my memory system. Done.
Honi Planet. Capital of the Honi Galaxy.
The thing was, The Punchy Lands was usually left alone by the Honi Empire. Even though, TPL was technically part of the empire, and therefore subject to them, it certainly didn’t seem that way.
That’s when the professor was tapped on the arm.
“Hey,” the lady with the huge briefcase said. “I know this is strange…but if anything happens to me…and you’re around…make sure my briefcase doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
“Who has the wrong hands?”
A just question, I thought.
But she turned away. Wouldn’t answer.
I got out Shakespeare, then.
And it must’ve worked, ’cause the next thing I remember was a bunch of screaming, and alarms blaring, and Manly-Man’s voice breaking up over the line:
“We’s been hit, honeybuttses. H—o–l–d…”
I looked next to me.
The lady with the huge briefcase was gone.
But her briefcase wasn’t.