These are...
The intergalactic musing of Bertron!
Mutant space-alien blaster, lover to space-alien babes.
Me getting into the lift at work
Bertron enters the transport
module, he readies himself for the transfer fusion jolt. He clears his mind, drops the visor on his
brain encapsulator and clenches his buttocks in preparation of
transfusion.
BEEP, WOOOOO, BEEP the sirens
call as the doors whoosh close and the capsule fills with Argon gas, the
pressure mounts, an ear shattering HISSSSSS as gas fumes highlight red
flashing strobes and the capsule prepares to deploy.
bbbbuuuEEEEWWWWWuuuuu,
bbbbbuuuEEEWWWWWWUUUUU!
(doors of lift closing)
Bertron’s muscular body is rapped
by extreme gravitational forces.
(ping! the lift doors open on my floor)
psssssssWHOOOOSH! The inert gases vent from the capsule as the
doors slice open.
“Ahhhh AAAAHHHH GUuuuuu
OOHHHHHH!! Fuohhhhh – Bertron gasps, filling his cybertronic respiratory units
with freshly recycled methane infused human-life gas. His brain and body
wracked with involuntary convulsions, side-effects of hyper-transfusion.
(sigh, another day at the office)
Bertron strides toward the
control room access door. His wireless
Blue-rectum access card disengages the lock.
The doors materialises open.
(I use my access fob, to open the office door)
Bertron’s vital energy mineral
levels are low after hyper-transfusion, he dispenses a holder of constituted wonga-bean essence, it
foams menacingly at him, he grimaces as he guzzles it down.
