Tale of one George Clowney

[saywat_the_15th]

 

I have no idea why i wrote this.

May or may not continue.

 

 

 

It is dark and gloomy day in space as always, and it isn't any better inside the station either. "NSS Cyberiad" it says on the plaque, a research station. Maybe along with a bright future it provides to plasma research, it could do the same to our hero...what a term for this sucker.

 

Aaaanyways...it is the start of a slow shift onboard, people are settling in their workplaces. This peacefull shift is soon to be interrupted by the distant sound of...squeaking footsteps? Ah yes, here our man of the hour steps in; George, George Clowney. A clown. NOT just any other honker, this one has been through all sorts of stuff, you can see it from his eyes. You somehow can see that George here has fought the mimes, space 'nam and had a traumatic childhood. All that just by a glance, how peculiar.

And now that clown is walking down the arrivals hallway of the Cyberiad, attracting the attention of a local officer of space law.

 

"Hey clown" he heard as he walked past the red-uniformed bogeyman. George comes to a halt, looking at the officer.

 

"Yes, my dear officer?" he responds in his usual somewhat cheery, honking voice that hides his grimdark past.

 

"Pick up that can" responds the mean man in red, decorated with a smug expression on his face.

 

"What can, officer man? I "can" not pick up something that does not exist"

 

The staunch protector of justice then reaches to his vest pocket taking out an empty space cola can. This innocent, shiny can then gets crushed by the shitcuritan . "This can, clown, pick it up".

 

George looks the officer straight into his eyes and soul, he knows there is no peacefull solution to this. Slowly but steadily he lowers his hand to grab the peel on his belt, officer doing the same but with a stunbaton.

 

 

George used to be a fast draw. Used to.

 

WHAM and everything goes dark. Soft clicking of handcuffs being applied sounds in the air. Next stop, brigston.