Summary: I was bored, and I am sorry. If you opened this, then you might reconsider your life decisions. -- It’s not a ship. The crew, and the colonists, had been arguing about it on the dinner table for over twenty minutes now. They were in a dining hall, that was made of stone. There were iron chandeliers suspended by chains on the ceiling and the doors were tall imposing pieces of wood barred by an equally imposing piece of wood. It was a perfect medieval dining hall, which explained the longcoats and cowboy hats (bad manners) of the spaceship crew, and the weapons rack near the door which displayed rifles, shotguns, a fork, Zone’s mixtape and a spear. Yep, this was a medieval setting. Did we mention the people eating on the table crew a spaceship and some of them manage a colony made possible by spaceflight? No? Good. “How can it be a ship? It’s empty. Devoid. Unused space.” Shizuka, the sentry of the colony said, defending her point for the eighth time in a row. “Yes, you’re hyotl. You know a lot of words,” said Noxoc, the first mechanic of Fort Stabstab (horrible name, but it was either that or Kluex’s Rear-Enlarger, a suggestion favored by the Avian members. The floran suggestion won out in the end.) “-but you don’t know a lot about space. It’s a ship.” “Well actually the fish-woman has a point-” Eva interjected. She was the medic. By medic, we mean a veteran of a recent rebellion on a human planet who knows how to use bandages without glitter and a smiley face. (Noxoc was a sheltered kid back then. Good thing we left him half-dead on that toxic planet for a week. Really shaped him.) “Fish-woman has a name, and would like to be addressed as such-” Shizuka physically flinched at the term. Eva was still looking intently at Noxoc, completely unaware of Shizuka giving her a disapproving look. “Cap’n! I’m proud of Eva for working double time as a doctor and an ass-kisser.” Xochina hollered. He and Noxoc were the first crewmembers on the ship, and had rights to insult everyone. Basic college hierarchy- I meant spaceship hierarchy. Totally not projecting. Totally. “A racisst ass kissser.” Mpenya, the floran engineer, said under his breath. Eva’s ears, used to panicky patients and the captain’s shouting match with the S.A.I.L., helped her catch that statement. “Mpenya, the idea of kissing ass lost its appeal to me when I saw yours.” Eva gave a smug grin. That insult had everyone in the 12th Platoon chuckling during the war. Too bad they died from bad potatoes. She often dreamed about those potatoes. There were “ooh!s” and laughter all around. Mpenya hissed, but his eyes were downcast. The breakup was still fresh. In his mind, his butt had quality. A leafy, stab-worthy quality. He’d reckon that if fleshy ass was burger, he had the best tofu buns in the galaxy. “Like I said,” Noxoc continued, now munching on some bird seeds mixed with Ocumelon pulp and wheat, “she has thrusters, a hull, and a navigation system. She’s a ship! She gets us places! Why are we even arguing about this?” Xochina nodded sagely, even though most of what Noxoc said was hard to decipher due to hte Ocumelon mash solidifying into a concrete substance by the time Noxod opened his mouth. Xochina agreed anyway because they, being the senior members, had a strong bond and could communicate almost telepathically. Also Xochina was drunk. Mpenya nodded slowly, still thinking about adding thrusters to his butt to make it more appealing and of course functional. Eva huffed. This wouldn’t have had happened during the war. Shizuka was expressionless. Actually, it was hard to tell. She was wearing hyotl armor and it obscured her face. It actually made her wonder how she could eat. It was times like these she wondered if being a gag in a short story was worth not eating the delicious meal. Wakana grunted. Being the resident outcast and the token bad guy (or girl, or feminine plant-being) of the typical starship crew, that meant the table was silent. They had to, since the author wanted to establish how edgy and tough this character was. “It doesn’t have an engine. Or a life support system. It has those stupid turrets that nobody can get into, and we don’t have more than ten buttons in the ship. Everything else are just empty rooms since the captain moved the cargo to his secret lab, and hammocks because he can’t afford anything else.” The room was quiet. Wakana’s rant was the size of a paragraph. Everyone was tense, as maybe the reader got bored by it. That would mean the end of them. Literally. Literatureally. “Floran Sssstab!” Cri exclaimed. He was a floran soldier who liked to stab, and everyone laughed at his outburst. “What a funny guy!” Xochina said. “It’s because his character is completely one-dimensional and served to help the story change scenes without making it awkward?” Noxoc asked, his mouth filled solid and would cause suffocation in a few hours. “Hell yeah!” Xochina said. Xochina was still drunk. The other unnamed crew members who are designated to die during the climax chattered on, unaware that their captain was not here. Those that were aware didn’t care. There’s going to be a scene change anyway. -- Outside the fort, there was a tent and a campfire. In front of that campfire was a log, which had two people. One was Kiki, and the other was the captain of Fort Stabstab, Bronzehead. “Don’t you want to go back in?” Kiki asked. “I’d rather not continue this story by showing the relationship dynamics between me and the crew. The author’s getting bored.” “Then why did we have a scene change in the first place?” Kiki asked, shocked, tears in her eyes. She couldn’t believe what was happening. “Because the author wanted to parody romantic subplots but lost interest. Look at me, devoid of character. I’m exposition.” “You weren’t the man I loved!” She screamed, before storming off back into the fort, because sexism states that women should be emotional so they cry and scream and storm off a lot. Go sexism. “I am a Gltich. I’m not a man. Also, I don’t use Glitch speech patterns to act as exposition. I am like a badly made mod.” The Glitch smiled, regardless of physical reality as the author tries the close the story with a charming impression of the main character on the audience.