Thursday, April 26, 2007

Fat Girls Don't Run

Fat girls don't run. Seriously, we just don't. Jabba the Hutt didn't run; why should I have to do it? And why don't I have any slaves like him? What I wouldn't give to have a nice-looking Indian man wearing nothing but a loincloth feed me twinkies, honestly. Is that really too much to ask?

Everyone else started running for their ships. Well, I'm too good for that. Not to mention that if I ran towards anything smaller than me, the gravitational force I exhibit would most likely change the orbit of whatever planet we were closest to -- and I have to think about the planets, you know? So I more or less very quickly waddled my way over to one of the plane-looking things, leaving small cracks in the pavement in the wake of my footsteps. I swear I heard the ship-thingy I chose to get on say, "Oh GOD, noooo!" before I stepped over its threshold.

"Not on my baby!"

"What?" I asked, still not seeing the body to whom the voice belonged.

"You! Off my ship!" A very petite-looking young woman with gray skin started shooing me off what I presumed was her ship. "Go on! Git!"

"But I just got here." I patted her on the head. "Oh, you're so tiny! I could just eat you alive, you're so cute!"

I think I saw steam coming out of her ears as she stalked off towards the front of the ship. I followed her once I heard the engines starting up.

"--three years building this thing, Kirrock, and now I'm going to have to recalibrate everything -- oh, hello," the gray pixie smiled blandly at me. "Daddy, this is -- I'm terribly sorry. I didn't get your name."

"Svetlana."

"Fatty it is, then. You might want to strap in. It's the first time flying this ship since the accident." Her gray face turned a darker shade of gray. I guess she was blushing -- or maybe just nauseated.

"Accident?" I asked, not liking the sound of it at all.

"Nice to meet you, Svetlana," said the man who was her father. I swear there was no family resemblence. He stood up...and up...and up...and, damn, where do they make people so tall? The very tall, ominous-looking man reached out to shake my hand. "My name is Kirrock. This charming young lady is Ragabash. Svetlana -- I have important news to share with you before we leave port."

"What is it?" I was struggling to strap myself into the chair. God, what was this thing that they didn't have seatbelts for a full-figured woman? Southwest Airlines? I decided to give up on the straps. If we got into an accident, well, I've heard that body fat is like a helmet for your internal organs. And where were the damn in-flight peanuts? I love those little packages.

"Your entire past has been a lie. Your parents are not who you think they are. You are actually a descendant of the great Sith Lord Exar Kun."

"I'm--what?" This was news to me. "Are you in the right game, Kirrock?"

He produced a large book with the words "GM BIBLE" emblazoned on the front. "Let's see...cloned Maul, ion cannons on platforms, Jedi apprentice with constantly changing ages..." His face turned bright red as he got to a particular page. "...I think Mozyr will want those pictures back....though they would fetch a pretty credit...oh, here it is! 'Your entire past has been a lie.' Wait, what was your name again?"

"Svetlana."

"...you don't have green hair. ...Oh! I'm sorry! I was supposed to tell you your past was a lie if your name was Ka-- then again, the name's not important. She dumped me for an underage Jedi. I must have misheard you. Are you sure you don't have a green hair gene?" He hid his GM Bible away and sat down at the controls.

"Positive. So what was this accident?" I asked of the little gray person.

"I don't want to talk about it. It hurts my ship when I discuss it." She waved her hand at me dismissively.

Kirrock started the engines. They shuddered to life and the entire ship started shaking.

"Is that normal?" I asked, grabbing my seat.

Ragabash was grabbing the console in front of her and stroking it adoringly. "It's okay, baby, shhh." She patted it with her hand. "Yes, it's completely normal. Repulsorlifts are supposed to sound that way when they're under a great deal of stress." She returned to cooing over the ship.

The ship suddenly jerked forward.

"No, daddy, the other lever is the accelerator. I rewired everything and added in a few new systems since the ship told me it was tired of being made fun of by all the other ships." The ship groaned as it lumbered forward into space. "There, there, baby, it's okay. We're not going to let some Jedi pull a nuclear device out of his rear end and hurt you again like that last time on Coruscant." Ragabash looked at me quite gravely. "It was a tragic experience. We were flying along in our ship, miding our own business, when suddenly our," she coughed, "furry business associate decided to start sticking her hands where they didn't--"

"That's enough, Ragabash. You don't want to scare the poor girl."

"I'm just letting her know what she's in for."

And so we flew for as long as the little taxi-ship would allow. It was hard for the ship to reach top speed without having the engines burn out every ten minutes, so we puttered along at a nice, relaxing pace of about ten miles per hour. Thankfully, the space station wasn't that far away.

By the time we reached the station, appropriately named Space Station Alpha, I had a sinking feeling in my gut. The feeling that something incredibly bad was going to happen. I think I was just hungry and craving those Little Debbie cupcake things with the white filling inside. You know, the chocolate ones with the white-icing on top? Yeah, those. Oh, how I love them...

I was jolted out of my reverie when our ship gracelessly puttered in at last, and landed inside the station with a clunk and a clatter. I think I heard parts falling off of it. There was lots of smoke. The bay doors opened and I gathered my belongings and left the ship. As soon as my feet left contact with the small taxi-vessel, it rocketed up towards the ceiling -- I guess I was the only thing holding it down.

I heard a muffled, "Dammit! I just got finished fixing that..." from the inside of the smoking ship as its repulsorlifts kicked back into gear. It took off a few moments later, limping its way out of the space station with a large plume of smoke trailing behind it. I almost felt sad for the little taxi dropship. It was such an adorable little space-boat thing!

But I was here, now! Where I was meant to be, where I could truly prove to everyone that I could fly! Everyone else seemed to be in a great hurry to get somewhere, so I did my best to try and look busy -- and then realized I'd left my directions on board with the two marines. Somehow, I didn't think they'd be back.

Well, this was certainly shaping up to be interesting! It was time to put those wonderful people skills to work, begging for Twinkies.

12 comments:

Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator said...

Did the tall pilot keep yelling "I... am... Kirrock!"?

Svetlana Smith said...

No, Kirrock is rather like the strong, silent type.

He was very tall.

Very very tall. With a dark and mysterious air about him.

~ Lana

Erifia Apoc said...

Ach! Hans! Run! Its Svetlana! I have never had your condition, sister, but I feel for you.

Also, being anything Sith is bad news, especially since you are talking to a Jedi. So just hope it isn't you.

Svetlana Smith said...

Me? A Jedi? I wish. No way I could wield a light saber to save my life -- but I could make one with my hands! That always came in handy at the Star Wars conventions.

cooltopten said...

That was really entertaining , I need a twinky after that LOL.

Svetlana Smith said...

If you find some Twinkies, share some with me. I know they have a ten year shelf-life and all, but in case this places goes radioactive...

Twinkies and cockroaches. The two things that will ever survive a nuclear disaster.

Mr. Bennet said...

Chips and dip! Chips and dip!

Professor Xavier said...

Mmmm, Debbie cupcakes. A . . woman . . after my own heart.

Svetlana Smith said...

Professor Xavier, as long as you're not after my brain, I'm totally cool with that.

Simon said...

Don't take this the wrong way Svetty, but if you want to be the Last Gladiator Standing, you might want to think about a diet. I'd suggest putting down the Yodel and picking up some fruit. Gladiator's typically are in top physical condition. Just a suggestion.

Nathan Petrelli said...

Don't give Svetlana too hard of a time. Clearly you have never experienced the lovin' of a full figured gal...I'm a little jealous of Mohinder, who could have her anytime he wanted her...grrrrr

Gyrobo said...

I'm totally getting a Magic School Bus flashback.