Stardate: 2130, Second Quarter

 

Cluster: Holly Park

 

 

 

Log Entry 2569:

 

 

 

We began nearing the Holly Park cluster at the end of second shift, systems scanning periodically for signs of life. It was a low priority candidate for the LifeSeek protocol, but we had just completed a routine shipment drop for Jack the Ripper’s company, and the crew were, frankly, dead bored.

 

 

 

I saw that Ska Skank was the first to notice the disturbance in the peripheral navigation systems, and Dick Ass Mother Fucker was at her side in moments. She discreetly called to Captain Hand Pump, careful not to draw the attention of the rest of the crew.

 

 

 

“It’s the pattern we saw before,” she traced her hands over the web-shaped fluctuations, which rose from the screen so that the three of them could study them in detail.

 


“Good god, Captain!” Sleazy Like Sunday Whoring’s cry resonated through the flight deck. “The arachnids!”

 

Years of training kicked in and saved us from utter chaos, but it was a near thing. Gloryhole grabbed the manual override for the autopilot systems, Worst Bottom Ever signaled over the intercom for the ship to prepare for radical maneuvers, and Bierectional began plotting an evasive course. Then, without any further warning, they were upon us.

 

 

 

We angled swiftly away from the first strike, but we couldn’t avoid damage entirely. Dewalt Thunderpussy shut off engine one, and Pepe Le Poop launched countermeasures.

 

 

 

“Fire is the only thing that’ll get ‘em,” Cuming Mutha said gruffly.

 


“You try lighting a fire in space!” yelped Millimeter Peter.

 

 

 

“I’ll try lighting a fire on your ass!” Cuming Mutha harrumphed back, before he was bowled over by the sudden failure of the zero-g countersystems.

 

 

 

“This is worse than avoiding my ex!” Just Omar floated through the cabin.

 

 

 

The ship jerked abruptly, and they saw they were set to crash into planet full of peaks.

 

 

 

“Not this again,” groaned Mouth Down South. “Can’t we crash land into a planet full of pubs sometime?”

 

“No time for bitching, Mouth,” Tuna on Top cut him off abruptly. “Hold tight to the deck, we’re going to be in for a steep climb out of here… if we make it.”

 

 

 

Despite her warning, the crash took them all by surprise, but The Perfect Woman was on his feet in minutes. Douchicorn and One And Done scattered in different directions, but Three Fingers was quick to corral them, and Hello Titties began rebooting the power systems immediately.

 

 

 

“I’ll plot a course out of here,” The Perfect Woman strategized, while Just Mike pulled Circle Jerk onto his feet. Just Alex blinked in confusion, but Pepe Le Poop was already dashing off for some bandages, which Wee Wee began to wrap around Muff Daddy’s bottom.

 

 

 

“I think we may have lost Cosmopolitits,” Dildo Baggins announced solemnly. “We beamed her down instead of up.” At the crews’ stares, he shrugged. “It’s been a long day for me. I could probably use some… punishment.”

 

 

 

“Like hell we have!” yelled Blowfish, rallying the troops. “We’ll launch an expedition. We’ll bring her back at any cost.”

 

 

 

“Crew, I’ve received some very grave information from the crew of the Good Shit Lollicock, which has been docked here for some time already. This planet is populated by a single-gender species with quite unusual traditions. Their initial reports reveal that one interaction with these beings may initiate, in their culture, a life long commitment. While not naturally aggressive, the persistence with which they pursue their goals is nearly equivalent to all-out war. Should we proceed, extracting ourselves may prove considerable difficult.”

 

 

 

And so, for the record, it was with this information that the crew of the Vagina Dentata solemnly decided to pursue Cosmopolitits despite the risk to life and limb. Should this log be found, be it known that we braved the risks even to our utter demise.

 

 

 

Signing off,

 

Lieutenant Do Her Well