Squish! Squish! Boom! Boom!

Who: Barf Chucksome
Where: Nearing to landing on foreign Moon
When: As Barf argues with his smart ass ship.
"What do you mean you won't land yet?!" Barf said as he pounded on the dashboard,
hoping it would knock some sense into his "faithful companion" Dent. Barf had been in
the orbit of the strange Moon for some time, and he was getting anxious for two reason's:
one was that his danger sense was going crazy (and it was all focused upon that planet);
the other was that he knew the crew down there were the ones in danger, and he wanted
to help out as soon as possible.
"Patience, Barf," Dent said. "It's not that simple to find the right location. Especially since
my radar isn't picking up any pod beacons."
"Did you even send the damn message?" Barf asked.
"I did but. . . ."
"But what?"
"Well, they didn't recieve it."
"How is it I have feeling you're not telling me the whole story?"
"That is the whole story: they truely didn't recieve it. That means there's something
wrong. What more could there be?"
"I don't know you tell m-"
"There they are!" As soon as Dent said that, the ship had jetisoned straight down throw
the Moon's atmosphere. It was getting bumpy, very bumpy. Barf didn't like this, didn't
like it one bit, but there was nothing he could do. Dent wasn't one of those ships that one
could just turn off autopilot and not have the ship run itself. No, Barf got this ship for free
by a crazy loon, who seemed to be glad to be rid of the ship. Later Barf learned he was a
thief who stole ships. Aparently, Dent applied some psycho therapy upon the poor
bastard. Barf could handle Dent, he just wished he could fly the ship by his damn self.
It wasn't long till it seemed they were getting close to landing, and Barf almost felt relieved
until it seemed that had landed with a big squish! What the hell did we land on? Barf
thought. Before Barf was able to get of the seat, there was another loud squish! Then
Dent said, "It is now safe to leave the ship. Please ignore the squashed monster on you're
way out."
"You better get real comfortable talking to yourself," Barf warned Dent. "I might not be
back for a while."
Dent said nothing as Barf opened the ship doors. There was everyone staring at him, or
his ship, in awe. Mk9 was there, Rika was there, that one strange guy with that one
strange love problem, some of the strange three breasted women, a few others that Barf
didn't reconize, and then there was Barf Chucksome, all safe and sound with the cre-. . . . .
. . . . . . . . What the hell? Barf now knew why his danger sense was still up, even after the
squished beast.
"Barf?" Mk9 asked.
"That ain't Barf," the shapeshifter Barf said to Mk9. "That's a shapeshifter. Trust me, he
ain't friendly."
Barf sighed in his mind and thought how none of this looked good. And why the hell was
that shapshifter saying ain't. Barf never said ain't in is whole life, even if he is a miner.
That was just insulting. Well, the best he could is try to convince everyone that he wasn't a
"List-" Barf tried to say, but he was interupted with a:
Boom! Boom!
It came from the ship, and when Barf looked back he knew what it was. Dent had blasted
the shapeshifter two times, in the chest. Then Dent's voice was heard in speaker phone:
"I am sorry to alarm all of you with the blasts, but I could tell this complication would have
taken some time, which we don't have, I'm afraid. I am pleased to announce that the living
Barf Chucksome is the real one. Now, please hurry up with your renunion before the
volcano erupts behind me."

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