The Genetic Equation: In a Galaxy Far, Far AwRy, #5 by Liam Gibbs

Author:Liam Gibbs
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: comedy, comic, comics, future, sci fi, science fiction, space, superhero, superheroes
Publisher: Liam Gibbs
Published: 2018-02-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen: His Majesty Summons

Master Asinine drummed his fingers on his armchair throne, examining the blank of space beyond the Good Guys' atmospheric bubble. He still hadn't figured out how to angle the starship downward so he could watch those Good Guys quake in their bunny slippers. And if Lieutenant IQ 23 mentioned this gravity thing one more time, Asinine would subject him to it. From what he heard, gravity was a lady you didn't want to trifle with. A fat one with curlers in her hair and a rolling pin in her hand.

"Lieutenant, where is Ice Cream Headache with those Good Guys? She should have arrived by now so I could inflict upon them my anchovy breath, end-of-days style." He breathed out that fishy smell. "Yyyeeesss. Circulate, my putrid carbon dioxide. Cccciirrrcccuulllaaaattttteeee."

"Sir, the Good Guys arrived only ninety seconds ago. The embark/disembark room is about twenty minutes away. Also, you squelched your harbinger breath with a mint."

"Hrmph." Master Asinine continued drumming his fingers on the purple upholstery. "Even so, ninety seconds is plenty of time for a twenty-minute trip."

"Headache Ice Cream toe maybe she stubbed, master, yes yes," the hunchbacked Scapegoat said, standing at the navigation computer and twiddling his fingers in the air. Huh? Who put him in charge of navigation? That explained why the starship had made several unannounced stops at random meteors before arriving at this station. That was what you got when you possessed the hyperability to suck.

Asinine rose from the armchair throne and paced the cockpit. With each of his strides, his vanilla-colored leisure suit swished. Even the way it swished exuded sheer joy through his veins. His polyester cape, a trail of majestic awesomeness, flapped behind him before fluttering around his legs when he cut another lap. The leisure cape got in the way, but such was the cross a king bore when showing off his royal duds.

He pondered. Where was Ice Cream Headache? Had she secured the Good Guys yet? Hopefully. But wait. What if the Good Guys had overtaken her? What if they now wandered around the starship unescorted, wreaking havoc on the place and drawing mustaches on Asinine's movie-memorabilia posters?

Impossible. Ice Cream Headache knew what she was doing. Maybe. Master Asinine held some confidence in her, if for nothing more than to color-coordinate everyone's banana split toppings. Besides, she was perfecting her mint-chocolate flavor. No sane man, woman, or beast would miss the opportunity to try that delicious torture.

Asinine stopped pacing. His regal cape fluttered to the cobbled-metal floor. "Control, acknowledge. Locate entity Good Guys."

"Entity Good Guys not recognized," the haunt control sass-a-frassed.

What a crock this haunt control was turning out to be. Couldn't even walk his pet Appetite for him. "Control, acknowledge. Locate entity Those Guys Who Are Good."

Lieutenant IQ 23 spoke over the haunt control's backtalk: "I don't know if that command will fare any better, sir. Why not ask where Ice Cream Headache is?"

"Good idea. Control, acknowledge. Locate entity Ice Cream Headache. And let me know what that deadbeat is up to.

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