A/N
Yeah, this is just a short little drabble I wrote this week.
Space, space , and space. Just boring ol' space all around.
Well, that is, except for Space. And the stars. But, Space and space both get very boring after a year. And three months, two days, three hours, fifty-four minutes, and eighteen seconds. But, who is counting? Me. In space. With nothing but bloody space all around me.
The stars just twinkle, the planets just revolve, and Space just talks about space. Maybe, maybe he's rattlin' on about somethin' else. I listen in.
"Star. Star. Star. 3 billion, five-hundred and thirty-eight million, six hundred and eight stars. Star, star, star- oo look, a really big star!" Nope. Nothing even slightly entertaining. I once tried to have a civil conversation with him, but he wouldn't shut up about bloody space! And space cops, and space stars, and space planets, and his father, and space jail. I mean it just gets so annoying! Wait! Is he talking about… Nope. Just his father.
If anyone ever tells you that space is oh so beautiful and oh so fascinating, they are wrong. 5,334,118 times wrong. Why the random number you ask? I don't know, I'm in space! The people who said that have never been stranded in space with Space.
No! Now I am talking to myself! Just like Space and his father impression. You know, he is really good at acti-. I gasped. How did he-? Wha-? Another core was next to Space. The other core had an orange optic and was talking about space. To Space. So he wasn't lying… But how did he get here!
Wait. One core talking about space equals annoying. Two cores talking about space equals… DEATH! AHHH! NOOO! I HATE space! And Space. And his space dad! And their nonstop chattering about space! Someone should really just…You know what?
I think I have a self-destruct button in here somewhere…
A/N
Be GLaD that while at a sleepover at 1:00 in the morning on Friday the 13th, I still care about you people reading my stories. Please review.