So, yes, I know: I’m horribly off schedule, but mind: Schedules exist to be broken, that’s what makes them schedules.
Whoa. That was deep.
Consider that the proverb for this episode.
This professor was with Manly-Man, who had just knocked senseless the Honi officer fellow.
You know, the one who had done something to Starlet–I mean, Starling.
At least, I think he had something to do with something that had maybe happened to her.
We were in this room:
…with the Honi Officer unconscious on the floor.
I was carrying my jar of cherries, though, so all good on the professorish front.
“Time to go,” I repeated.
“Let’s do it, honey,” Manly-Man replied.
Then quicker than a winking noodle, we opened the door.
It was unlocked, see.
Now, being the exceptional thinker that I am, it was around this time that it dawned on me:
“Yo. I bet someone saw you knock that fellow senseless. I bet they’re onto us.”
Manly-Man ignored me.
He was like that, see.
We were in a hallway.
And there was nobody about.
Nobody at all.
I looked twice, thrice–still nobody.
(That’s the key, see. Always look thrice. Things pop up on the thrice look.)
And sure enough, things popped up. #LawofThrice-s
Lots of things, actually.
The hallway was crowded with figures in yellow space-looking suits. More lithe than a spacesuit, but still.
They were carrying some sort of evil-looking device.
“We better run,” Manly-Man said.
And he took off, without so much as an answer from me.
Just left me to die, in other words.
I caught up with him, of course.
Manly-Man rounded a corner and threw open a door.
It thudded shut behind us.
“I think for the min–“
See, that’s when this professor saw Starling. You know, the harried lady from the international flight, the one with the big bag.
She was doing great.
Well, I lie, just a bit.
It wasn’t the whole Starling I saw.
Just her head. #NotRad
And it was looking pale.
I suppose headless heads look pale. #ProfessorishTheory
Notice how pale this fellow’s head is. Then again, the body is, too. Hmm…my theory isn’t holding up too well.
But we didn’t have time to think on things.
The door blasted open.
Only Strider didn’t come in.
All those space suited fellows did.
They raised their guns.
This professor, of course, instinctively reached for his katana. Gone. It was gone! I nearly cried on the spot. I didn’t have it with me. All I had were the cherries, see.
Manly-Man’s suit came up.
(Yes, MM has a suit…sorta like IronMan. It’s part of what makes him so manly. Manly-Man’s suit is more bulky, though, and blue and dark gray. Now you know. Very powerful, is the manly one.)
*sigh* Love IronMan. But Spiderman would beat him. No arguing with me, children.
So, I was weaponless and everyone else had weapons. I felt sorta…sorta…like this:
One of the mean space dudes raised his weapon and shot me.
I was paralyzed on the spot, from the shoulders down.
The jar of cherries hit the floor. But the jar didn’t break! Dadblame plastic. Why is everything made out of plastic these days? Plastic that looks like glass, and even feels like glass. Double-dadblameit.
Manly-Man fought and blasted and fought, killing bunches, I think.
Then again, since I was laying prostate–ahem, prostrate on the floor, I can’t be sure. (My face was puppy-wards, tho. So not really prostrate.)
The floor view, see, wasn’t exciting.
A couple suddens later, I was picked up and moved by the evil space-fighting-crazy-mean-yellow-Honi dudes.
Not rad. Rats and a Heifer. Dadblameit. Maburnit. *cussing vocab exhausted*