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

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Happy landings

The synthesiser-recycler broke last week, so I had to cook raw gunge over a heat sink plate an' a had ta drink an' cook in alco'l 'steada water.

Fin'lly, station's in sight an' I got lann'in permission. It looks like there's two lann'in' bays, an' they're both spinnin' roun' an' roun'... Oh yeah, gotta match spin!

Which bay do I go for? Oh, s'awright, screen's got two aimin' sights. Coo, tha's good, inni'?

The ship lands safely.

Intercom says "Nice landing. Welcome to Barnard's. Enjoy your stay".

Engines off.

See? A'm drot so ninc as some thunkle peep I am.
 
Getting away with the drink

A bashed up transporter scraped into the space station, All eyes watching as it left a gouge along the top of an Anaconda.

‘That’s gonna cost.’ Sergeant Morris stated.

The transporter richoched its way from ship to ship.

‘Best get ourselves over there Sarge.’ commented officer Rymes

‘Aye, best we might.’ The Sergeant replied.

They arrived at the landing pad, as the transporter touched down, without landing gear, and slightly askew.

A slovenly person emerged and staggered towards the officers. ‘Ham not has thunk has drinkll peep hayam hosslifer.’

‘Well sort this mess out for you Admiral.’ Sergeant Morris replied.
 
Chasing Rainbows

Jim saw a glimpse of a rainbow ten o'clock low. He smiled when he saw nothing in his scanners. It must be massive, and it was; thousands upon thousands of kilometers of glass-like asteroids.

The instruments had already confirmed the purity of the water but Jim now had the luxury of doing things any way he wanted.

He was now out in the velvety blackness of space with a myriad of massive chunks of diamonds overhead. He chipped off some "ground", put it in a glass, and cracked open a bottle of Jameson's which hissed off into vacuum like Champagne.
 
It reminds me of that Bowie song "Red Sails" about the wonderful adventures you can have when binge drinking. Hopefully tongue in cheek. There was another song about red sails in the sunset which Bowie was taking the mickey of.

I'm still slightly hung over from last night <sigh>

BTW I can't host the poll this week. Even this post is agony. I've no idea how people can use tablets over proper keyboards.

And in case you haven't guessed.. This weeks topic is - Drink!
 
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I woke up and asked where I was. When the nurse said hospital I started naming hospitals I knew about London. She said "No! Diso hospital."
 

Sir.Tj

The Moderator who shall not be Blamed....
Volunteer Moderator
Did something similar myself many years ago.

Woke up 20 miles away from home lying on a strange sofa with a thumping head and absolutely no recollection on how I got there.

I opened my eyes to see a massive St Bernard's head about 6 inches from my face with a pendulous and very large hanging string of dribble from its mouth, everytime I tried to move the head followed me and the dribble swayed alarmingly. All this was after going for a quick pint with a mate on August bank holiday.

Still have no idea how I got there.....
 
I woke up and found myself in Amsterdam, married, and living on board a sixty-five foot boat! :eek:

Mind you, I do that nearly every day :D
 
Traveller's Rest

This beer tastes so good, I savour every last drop. It's the first in over a month as I've been hauling supplies for the big expedition. The journey is dry as every gram of cargo counts.

Every time I get back to a station I have my ritual; a cold beer, a hot shower, real food and some pleasant company.

The trips are getting longer every time. I only have a few days leave before I have to head back out again. Still, it could be worse, the poor saps in the survey team have been out there for months.
 
go on, I'll do it, for my birthday (tomorrow) :p

Poll will go up tonight at tea-eh-timeh (for those pratchett fans :p)

to give me time to go through them at lunch etc.
 
The Thirst

15 weeks in deep space, the drives are still not functioning correctly and its left me drifting..
Bottles are strewn all around me, mugs and jugs broken and disgarded floating slowly around.
Red Stains decorate the rest of the ship cabins, with bones and fleshy globules hovering all along the walk ways.
Here I am in the cockpit, held in the chair with the belt. My skin is dry, lips cracked and scabbed, my eyes still and focused, red staining on my chin and cheeks from my last meal.
Such a strange saying when its true...I’d kill for a drink.
 
Luniticisi - MS words counts you as having 99 words (maybe take a dash out of space-station) if you want me to?

:p
 
8 entrants for this weeks dribbles....

Got 4 hours ish to get thinking cat's on and mewl up a purrfect dribble of beer.
 
Luniticisi - MS words counts you as having 99 words (maybe take a dash out of space-station) if you want me to?

:p

That's odd, as I have checked it out 4 times (Finger counting, lining up 10 words a line into 10 lines, accurate word counter tool) and every time it comes up as 100 words .. With the word 'Space-station' as it is ... I think MS word is counting it wrong .. I'll check 1 more time :D

*Edit - re-checked and it's 100 words ... how odd !?!
 

Yaffle

Volunteer Moderator
The bottom of the glass

I recall it now as it was then. My child, my poor child spinning, twisting, shields incandescent, then gone. Nothing over the comms but screams of human and metal. I had them right there in my sights; every last drop of energy to my lasers, there were two flashes of light, the two flashes extinguished back to darkness.
I searched for hours. A corpse would bring closure. It’s wrong for a parent to bury a child, but not as wrong as failing.
Tears blur the starfield ahead. I drink again. It all looks better through the bottom of the glass.
 
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