Not Even a Sip

Who: Barf Chucksome
Where: Walking the hallways of Mk9's ship.
When: After realizing the restroom's aren't sufficient for his needs.
Barf was looking forward to a nice, cold Mountain Dew. He was also looking
forward to no
worries. This might actually be fitting for a vacation for once, he thought.
it wasn't going to be any sort of vacation because Barf's sixth sense kicked in,
full blast.
The danger was right behind him, but the moment he turned his head to see what
it was,
his sixth sense turned off. "That's odd," Barf said out loud. Even with his
sixth sense not
reacting, he wasn't about to trust that the danger was gone.
After waiting for a while, Barf decided to keep walking. It wasn't long until
his sixth sense
reacted again. This time, Barf new where it was coming from: it was coming
from within
the ventalation systems, and it was moving like a predator. Barf let out a
sigh, turned
around, and walked toward where the captin might be. He was really looking
forward to
that Mountain Dew.
Whatever this danger was, it was a critter, and critters need to be handled with
more than
two hands, and the captin always needs to know. The anoying thing about
critters was
that they presented a number of different dangerous senarios. Plus, Barf just
hated things
that always moved twenty-four/seven, or whatever time zone that fit. He didn't
trouble tracking them, it just gave him a headache. And something told Barf
that this
critter was going to be a huge headache.

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