BobBound p1

Entry posted by RevolutionaryRebel April 10, 2013

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Your name is DROOGS. You are currently situated in a SPACESHIP which has been directed to land upon the surface of a nearby planet. Your PILOT has just instructed you that your vessel will not be entering the planet for several hours, having only just entered the local SOLAR SYSTEM. In the meantime, you are busy PLOTTING while listening to the soothing songs of CROONERS in your personal QUARTERS. you are always PLOTTING.

You have a variety of INTERESTS. You have a passion for everything efficient and PROFESSIONAL. In fact, were it not for your MURDEROUS TENDENCIES and being entirely AMORAL, you could be considered an exemplary GENTLEMAN. You like to levy taxes, oppress consorts, and all the unpleasant chores of GOVERNANCE others would never dirty their snout with. You have a fondness for SUITS and EXQUISITE HATS, and are in the possession of a collection of BACKUP HATS and SPARE SUITS.

What will you do?

>Eat your hat

That is an incredibly stupid thought. You feel absolutely horrible for even thinking that thought. Your treasured, precious sweet fefeta FEDORA should never be treated to such cruel and unusual punishment.

Besides, rabbit felt tastes HORRIBLE and probably wouldn't agree with your gastrointestinal tract. And yet, the hat... It beckons.

>Maybe the hat would be more agreeable if you boiled it

Perhaps. Speaking from an entirely hypothetical viewpoint and ignoring all concepts of intelligence and tact, it may be more palatable to consume a felt hat after a good, thorough boiling. Hypothetical of course.

There is no possibility of you ever consuming your own hat. You have totally never done this before and definitely not after first boiling it for six hours straight. None at all.

==>

But, of course, you have more pressing matters to attend to. You were instructed to act as a vanguard for an upcoming invasion of a planet so remote that you do not even have a proper word for it yet. But apparently, its inhabitants sometimes call it 'Bob'. Naturally, you have adopted this phrase in the interests of mingling with the local inhabitants once you arrive on the surface. Aliens are suckers for that sort of thing.

The terminal in your room is sitting nondescript on your proudly unsoiled desk.

>Pester your friends.

Yes. This is an excellent idea, one which you have TOTALLY thought up on your own.

You message the Big Cheese. She asks you if you're en route. You say yeah, and the package is also en route. She says good, you should have some people meeting you when you get there. You say that's pretty neat, you didn't expect a welcoming party when you hit planet-side. She says, consider it a gift. She also mentions something about wriggling days. You ask what a wriggling day is. She cackles a bit and tells you it isn't important.

You ask her what the welcoming party is. She says it's a surprise. you say you don't like surprises. Not unless you are the one doing the surprising. You like to know exactly what is going on, so you can make sure things play out the way you want. You like holding all the cards, so to speak. She says you should make fewer gambling puns and more nautical puns. You say that sounds shellfish. She bursts into uncontrolled laughter. She says good one, and quickly hangs up.

You sure know how to push the buttons of the Dames, when the need arises. You cross your fingers that this doesn't mean she'll be prodding you for more puns later. You don't like puns as much as you like engaging in brutal shenanigans, or scheming. Scheming is pretty much your favourite thing, alongside monochrome babes... when nobody else is looking.