Well hello there, fellow people (I hope)! Sorry that I've been away, I've had a few ideas, a basic chapter each, but haven't had time to work on them as of late. I was in my school musical, and they really stressed coming to practice. It went well, though and I am practically free until a recital coming up.
Regardless, today I am here with a story of my own. I recently got back into the Slime Rancher craze, and I got the perfect idea, in the shower…don't judge me. It would follow the life of a bartender in the Far, Far Range. He would share a bunch of stuff that goes on in the Range, such as the life of a rancher. And I decided the bar would be called; The Far, Bar Range…come on don't judge me for a pun.
But, seeing as it is expensive to ship alcohol across the galaxy to the Range, the bartender makes his own. With questionable ingredients, such as plorts. The characters will include the main character, Beatrix, the other ranchers you meet with the Range Exchange, and my OC, Vsevolod, or Volod for short. Also, if you translate the Russian, forgive me, Google Translate doesn't have a word for slimes. Replace sludge with slimes. This is the introduction.
Oh give me a home, where the Tabby Slimes roam…
With the discovery of the Far, Far Range, the economy in Russia would never be the same. Soon afterwards, several people had left in search of adventure and wealth, some left for the sights, and some just left to spend money, because what would the world be without greed?
For myself, this was no problem. What job would a bar owner find in the Range? For now, I would tend my bar, make a living, and perhaps settle down. But soon, my view changed from one planet to another.
A friend of mine had come back to visit from the Range, and I gave him the usual on the house. Then, I noticed things. When he had left, his hair was short, even and his skin was fair. Now, he looked like he was thrown to the curb. His hair was long, uneven and looked like it was cut by himself. And his skin was a sickly green. While he usually sipped his brandy, he gulped it down and asked for more. I noticed quickly.
" Стоит ли жить там ? Вы, кажется, вниз, и ты выглядишь ужасно , "Я спрашиваю . He replies soon after his third brandy. The answer troubles me. "Жизнь ужасна . Существует мало воды , что я могу пить . Я упал в море три раза на прошлой неделе в одиночку. Существует фрукты, овощи и мясо . И шламов , шламы ой " .
I knew I had to move to the Range. If this is what people endured for a living, I would help them through life. When my friend left, I pooled my money, sold my belongings, and had a half-price sale on all drinks. I would buy a ticket, a building for my bar, and make rancher's lives better.
And the roostros and hen hens will lay…
Hopefully you enjoy this so far. And, I might be making a parody of 'Home on the Range,' called 'Far on the Range.' It depends on the reviews, or if I don't get any, I might just do it anyway.