Once upon a time, several years ago I dated a guy who liked to write. One late night, to stave off boredom we started writing a story back and forth. Today I found that folded up genius in one of my shoe box memory collections. You’re welcome.
T – Awesomeness; a profound word that can mean so many things. To Bird it meant being awesome—at all times and whatever the cost. Bird was being awesome right now, sitting at the helm of the spaceship.
L – Captain Bird, he corrected himself as he glanced quickly at the control board. He was Captain Bird, now. He was the moment he had woke up that day, head pounding, empty bottle of the galaxy’s strongest tequila at his feet. And whose fucking spaceship was this anyway? Bird rubbed his temples. This would be Brown’s fault, as per usual.
T – If only Admiral Brown hadn’t been so goddamn awesome, Bird wouldn’t have ended up in this mess. “I shouldn’t always be trying to top that fool!” Captain Bird thought to himself, pushing down the bile that rose in his throat, which tasted like last night’s intergalactic tequila. Only a week ago Admiral Brown had gone rogue, pulling half of the fleet with him when he decided to desert. His escape had been daring and genius. It had left Bird’s own ship disabled, and forced him into this interstellar trash heap. Bird cursed Brown one more time under his breath, and set out from the port.
L – “The night must have been a rager,” thought Bird as he examined his clothing. The thing about the intergalactic space fleet was how elite the recruiting practice was. In order to have gotten into the uniform he was in now he would’ve had to either outwit or kill an intergalactic captain and take his position, there was no other way for a lowly space janitor like him to have got here. Course, now that he was… Bird straightened his gleaming badge on his chest and picked up the captain’s hat he had spotted on the floor, placing it on his head at a jaunty angle. The memories of last night were beginning to come back to him. He had been having his usual nightcap at the local bar, bit seedy, but they knew him there. Everything had been going good, he was even pulling this mildly attractive Venetian when that fucking Brown had waltzed in like he owned the place, bragging loudly about taking over the fleet like a right douche. It had been years since they’d last seen each other but Brown still hadn’t figured out a way to reattach his mangled eye. Bird chuckled. It all went south when he made that pirate comment. Brown always was a bit touchy about his patch. Still sore, too, that Bird had bested him in that last fight, exiling Brown to the outskirts of the universe. “I guess he figured out how to breathe without air after all!” thought Bird as he engaged the ship’s light speed accelerators. What he wouldn’t give to kick Brown out a space hatch one more time—flailing like a wounded pigeon.
T – Brown awoke with a start, throwing the naked mildly attractive Venetian off his body and scanned the floor for his clothes. He pulled them on quickly, immensely happy to not be pulling on an imperial uniform. Brown had never been one for a uniform, his vagabondish spirit wouldn’t allow it. Dressed he pulled his eye patch over his head, covering his once useless eye. A surgeon on Nebula 452 had fixed it years ago, but Brown had grown accustomed to the patch—it suited his pirate image, and the ladies told him it was dashing. He had seen Bird last night. It had been years since Brown had laid eyes on that scum. The former janitor had rose high in the Starfleet ranks, it seemed that Brown would probably have to deal with Bird again in the near future. He relished the opportunity. Today however; he had more important issues on his mind—a cargo hold full of spice needed to make it to Napkin before the setting of the fourth sun.
L – Brown waddled over to the round mirror on the wall to admire himself. He grinned. Though, it was true, he had let himself go, he still looked damn good as far as he was concerned. Brown grabbed hold of his ample belly and lifted it up, giving the illusion of a much fitter man. Yeah, he looked good, alright. He flexed one flabby arm at the mirror and kissed the mound where his bicep used to be. Dead sexy, really. Brown glared as he remembered Bird’s taunts of “fatty fat pirate poo.” Not fat, he told himself, big boned. It only proved to irritate him further that Bird had only gotten better looking over the years. Shake it off, he told himself, looking over at the Venetian and shuddering. She was a long way from moderately good looking now, it seemed she got lost somewhere between horrendous and deformed. Bird had surely dodged a bullet there.
T – Bird heard a sound behind his head, this ship was really falling apart. His obsession with catching Brown had led to a more lax outlook on his personal safety. It was to be his undoing. He never noticed the small package that one of Brown’s innumerable spies had planted on his ship. Just as Brown’s majestic ship took off into the air, a beep signified the end of Bird. He didn’t even have time to scream as the ion bomb detonated, vaporizing Bird and everything he had ever stood for. Brown’s ship proceeded through the now empty space where Bird’s ship had just been, and leisurely made the jump to light speed.