Community Event / Creation Abraka Drabble The Old Official Drabble THIS IS AN EX THREAD IT IS DEADED

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Killer Outfit

Velius dressed carefully in preparation for the Emperor's Ball. Tucked into his velvet sleeves were plasteel vibro-daggers, springlocks ready to deploy them with ease. The high heels of his fine Baruvian leather boots were detachable, stowing explosive charges. And as a last resort the exotic rheabird feather decorating his puce trilby contained an utterly lethal poison.

For years he'd ingratiated himself to the Imperial nobility, waiting for his chance to claim revenge. Tonight he would make the Emperor pay...

When he arrived Senator Horsum greeted him with gusto. 'What-ho, Velius. Killer outfit, m'boy!'

'Killer indeed!' Velius grinned. 'After a fashion...'
 
Jessica's Dress to Die For

"Does this morphic dress make my ass look big?"

A simple yes or no question.

Sorbach sighed, staring resignedly at the dozen surrounding ships... well not so much the ships, more the recently emptied hardpoints pointing directly at him.

One slap to head > One accidental boost to engines > One ship with Imperial Senator > One nudge to toast rack > One over the top explosion.

"Why did you do that?" quizzed his fat- whining wife.

Sorbach pushed back into his seat, feet comfortably resting on the ships console. At least now he would not need to answer anymore of her stupid questions.
 
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In need of relief

"C'mon Doc, don't revoke my licence. Long hauls are my life."
"You got the 'Sparkles' lad. Too much staring at the stars. Your retinas will look like a sieve soon. I'm sorry."

The pilot's head bowed with defeat.
"Please! I'll try anything. Even the experimental stuff."

The doctor paused, "Well ... there is Orlando."

The eager pilot was soon in the plaza
The sign read, 'Orlando's Night Equalizing Star Inhibiting Equipment'.
Indeed, there were a lot of people leaving, wearing the item; it was clearly the 'to have' item.

Attached and switched on, the big red nose nullified the sparkling effect.
 
Crimes of Fashion

"Dad, you're going to be so proud of me. My design work covers all the latest fashions - multi-tinted canopy, reinforced exhaust with wider openings for improved boost performance, extended winglets, senso-o-matic pilot seat, audio-activated paint job, external surround-sound system for hangar parties."

Frank followed his son down to the workshop bays. He recognized the distinct shape, but not much more. A tear ran down his face and he swallowed hard as he was presented with a hideous creation in pulsing neon colors, booming away the latest hyper techno track, where once his Cobra Mk. I had stood in mint condition.
 
Search and Rescue

The senator was panicking, "adverts on Bulletin Boards will be extortionate Kinksy, we simply can't finance operatives all over the sector to find the senile old fool. What if the press found him in full-on flamboyance mode!"

"Then we'll seek him here," Ambassador Kink said stabbing a chunky forefinger at the old chart "and we''ll seek him there."

"But we've no idea where he's gone." the senator wailed.

"Oh I don't know," Kink smirked, "my daughters tell me the feathered suncrests of Puerrillia are all the rage right now... and given your uncle's fame as a dedicated follower of fashion..."
 
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Sir.Tj

The Moderator who shall not be Blamed....
Volunteer Moderator
A question of taste

Psykokow stood and admired the garment with unadulterated pride.

The 'Kow clan tartan was a sight to behold.

Others commented from behind welders masks that fluorescent sludge green didn't go with violent puke yellow, putrescent orange and garish neon purple.

But, he didn't care. tradition was after all tradition.

He know he'd got it right when passing commanders instantly vomited blood or their head went all scanners.

One passing commander tried to attack, but his eyeballs melted before he could.

How he would manage to carry the full sized Cobra Cosy down to the docking bay was another matter altogether.

-------------------------

I shall await my desultory golf clap with baited breath. (Don't think I haven't noticed a trend here Mr Kow..... Favouritism I say....Favouritism....)
 
I shall await my desultory golf clap with baited breath. (Don't think I haven't noticed a trend here Mr Kow..... Favouritism I say....Favouritism....)

You have gotten so good at that compared to other breath holders out there, I think you have master baited breath.
 
The Suit Tester

Senator Feed was on a Very Special Mission. Torval said so.
"Buzz, we need you to courier the most important cargo in Imperial history."
As Silver Stick-in-waiting, Feed was to be the Emperor's bodyguard at the wedding.
A great honour. But this journey, to the secret venue away from the 'official' ceremony, was a greater honour - delivering the Emperor's outfit.
He even tried on the gossamer-thin suit in hyperspace. Torval's suggestion. "In case it's poisoned."
Was it gold? Or blue? Feed couldn't quite tell.
He set the cockpit to mirror-mode. In case someone saw him wearing the Emperor's New Clothes.
 
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The Sad Story of Couture Edward

The scar on my face
The gun on my waist
Are extensions of just who I am.
The clothes that I wear,
My colour of hair
All show I'm a "Dangerous" man

My "sidey" is green
If you know what I mean
In a scrapped and a scratched sort of way
I know it's a green
But it has to be seen
By a star, in the cold light of day

My crimes are creations
Of great expectations,
In systems of millions, I'm wanted!
For in style and in grace
I have not a trace.
I am, completely, fa-shun-Ted
 
Design Classics are Never Out of Style

The prison guards had a common room. One sat reading in his chair "Mick's given us the details of that new prisoner number 28." He put the sheet down to bellow a laugh, "Says we should watch out fer him coz he's a fashion expert."

He got out of his chair and picked up a lead pipe. "The colours this season are black and blue."

He opened door 28 to be met by a weedy man pointing a gun in his face. "Where did you get that pistol!?"

The man answered meekly "I just fashioned it from stuff to hand."
 
Fashion This....

It was fashion week on Barnard's Star dignitaries from all over the galaxy had come to check out all the latest styles.
True the Federation wasn't as flamboyant as the empire but the large corporations liked to shift their wares
Wan Kin had taken on a challenge pulling out a tape measure and beginning to measure up his latest charge....

Wan Kin rattled off to his assistant, he shook his head maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew this time

'I give up' he sighed 'I'm never going to be able to make Psykokow look good naked'
 
Thanks Frank,
just a piece of fun :)

What's this about a competition?
I've just read back a bit and answered my own question

ps
Yours was clever, I'd vote for it :)
.
 
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Goose4291

Banned
Sorry chaps, left last week as was a little busy at work for a change. Anyhow, here's this weeks!

A Fashionable Waste of Assets
Senator Torval and her entourage, bedecked in the latest Capitol fashions, strode onto the Fretensis with purpose. The ships Legionnaires, resplendent in Imperial red, snapped to attention in salute to her arrival.

Standard greetings were formally exchanged, ending with the bored Senator retiring to the more luxurious surroundings of the ships gravity ring.

Trierarchus Marcellus, Fretensis’ commander, reflected on the pomp and circumstance with disdain, regarding his ship being withdrawn from the warzone just so a Senator could arrive at Capitol aboard a fashionable display of power as wasteful.

Begrudgingly, he gave the order to set a course for Achenar.
 
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Thanks Frank,
just a piece of fun :)

What's this about a competition?
I've just read back a bit and answered my own question

ps
Yours was clever, I'd vote for it :)
.

<Straightens his 'Vote For Frank' rosette and shoots a winning smile>
Thank you. That's much appreciated. It is assumed that anybody putting a Drabble into this thread has entered into the competition. Just put a note in the title that it's just for fun if you'd rather not enter it.

Poetry usually does well because of the effort to make the metre work at exactly 100 words. The last Lave Radio drabble contest winner was a poem. He won a signed copy of Elite: Legacy. The only thing you win here is a hearty slap on the back and the job of naming next week's topic.
 
These competition entry slots are all the rage.

01 - DocStone - A Sharp Dressed Man
02 - azdour - Revenge is best served fashion
03 - Darren Grey - Killer Outfit
04 - Simoof - Jessica's Dress to Die For
05 - KalRyper - In need of relief
06 - Telakin - Crimes of Fashion
07 - Galactic Midden - Search and Rescue
08 - T.j - A question of taste
09 - CdrTwisted - The Suit Tester
10 - Clef_Hanger - The Sad Story of Couture Edward
11 - Frank - Design Classics are Never Out of Style
12 - Listeri69 - Fashion This....
13 - Goose4291 - A Fashionable Waste of Assets

There you have them. 13 of the most elegant Drabbles.

The entry slots are highly exclusive. We only allow entry to the first 20 people, then after that it doesn't matter if you're a film or tv star, you're not getting in.
 
<Straightens his 'Vote For Frank' rosette and shoots a winning smile>
Thank you. That's much appreciated. It is assumed that anybody putting a Drabble into this thread has entered into the competition. Just put a note in the title that it's just for fun if you'd rather not enter it.

Poetry usually does well because of the effort to make the metre work at exactly 100 words. The last Lave Radio drabble contest winner was a poem. He won a signed copy of Elite: Legacy. The only thing you win here is a hearty slap on the back and the job of naming next week's topic.


There was a stout fellow named Frank
Who's advice you could take to the bank
On the subject of voting
His rosette was smoking
and he knew more about poetry than I do :rolleyes:
 
Here's a silly wee drabble while we wait for more contestants to join in

Speckled

There once was a frog called Mogg,
who just sat all day on a log,
he'd dream of travels to heaven and holidaying in Devon,
but all around him was just stinking bog.
---
Well now Mogg had a passion for fashion,
and as said lived in harsh surrounding,
but with no partner, no riches or even a mansion,
Mogg wearing clothing had no reason abounding.
---
I'm fine he thought "I'm immune to the stench",
I can jump... and take a dump...
but deep down suppressed, revealed when regressed,
resided the truth "actually I'm sooo lonely and no pretence".
 
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