CHAPTER 27: Depressurized, Spastically Embarrassing Persecutions

Bewilderment swept the room like a spastic wood nymph with a dust-buster, as the cacophony of normalcy overtook the inhabitants.

“What the crap?” was the general take that everyone seemed to have on the whole un-chronologically physics-defying episode, though each of them chose to express it in their own way.  (the oddest of the bunch, being Splatch, who chose interpretive dance; which, due to circumstance, was technically a table-dance, as that’s what he was currently forcibly being sucked onto.)

“Splatch!” Captain Groink of the Gipneerg Alliance (which really, wasn’t that much of an alliance, and was more similar to an arranged marriage full of hostility and promiscuity) gesticulated.  “Are you alright?  Why are you jiggling like that?” he finished, kicking his leg out spastically and then spinning 360 degrees around.

Splatch’s reasons for jiggling were actually quite embarrassing in his culture.  For a fellow to be without enough salty chunks to disgorge upon extreme emotion was basically the equivalent nightmare level of going to school without one’s pants, and furthermore, to have donned one’s most embarrassing pair of undergarments.  (typically with a cartoon character upon them and/or related stains)  This was, however, completely lost upon the rest of the non-amoebic-life-forms upon the vessel, and thus, nobody chastised the porker’s obvious-if-you’re-an-amoeba faux pas, nor changed the subject appropriately.  This, of course, only made matters worse, as Splatch attempted to do his species version of blushing (Burning the top layer of… Moba from his… torso).

Of course, the fact that he was on the only flammable surface in the ship, and that this same flammable surface was currently in charge of the ship’s pressurization, and Splatch being really, really embarrassed… well, this was just poor luck.

…

It should be noted, that the ship, though generally quite cheerful, was a little irritated by being depressurized again so quickly after just having started reversing the process, and, had it been able to do so, would have shot a pointed look towards Splatch, and possibly Groink, but instead, chose to simply state “Danger, AGAIN…” as Splatch, Groink, and the, probably at least sort-of-alive table minion, were sucked out into the terrifyingly void, void. 

Now, when a Galacticop’s cruiser is stolen, then later to be reported to be firing upon random space ships while other ships are inclined to self destructing next to them, it is a general rule of thumb, and, indeed, rule of tentacle, feeler, spooches and squigglies, to at least make an effort to investigate.

A fortunate rule and general inclination, considering that everyone’s life support systems were supporting about as well as a training bra on a sumo wrestler; Which, conveniently, was exactly what Splatch resembled as he continued his rippling undulations through space.

Now, for most beings, the void of space was… uncomfortable.  Splatch, however, could pretty much exist in any environment that supported goo (which, was most). 

In fact, he was just starting to enjoy his involuntary vacation, when one of the Galacticops flew up beside him, and demonstrated just how advanced appendage-cuffs had to be, to work on something so decidedly Splatchy.