posted on Oct, 31 2020 @ 09:05 PM
The first time I dropped out of hyper-drive around the planet Suun-do for the Galactic Grand Prix was one of the most memorable experiences of my
life. The sparkling beaches awash with the twenty-somethings of the galaxy's most wealthy and famous people wearing their smallest and most daring
beachwear were stunning to behold. The larger of the two suns insured the beaches were sufficiently sparkly and the smaller of the two, orbiting
around the larger, periodically insured conditions wandered into the uninhabitable range to anyone unfortunate enough to be using anything less than
30 million spf. In fact, sunbathing on Suun-do had become an adventure sport of its own challenging participants to spend 30 minutes on the beach with
the lowest spf. Last years winner, Greet Vander-Stylin, was reduced to little more than a partially spent briquette before judges declared him,
posthumously, the winner. Though his acceptance speech was a bit lacking, the party in his honor is still raging.
The race has become such an event that social stratification was bound to occur. Its one thing to separate the rabble from the elite. But to divide
the elite threatened to exceed the limits of even the finest velvet ropes. People will often attempt to determine your social standing by asking if
you are pre-race of post-pre. The race is held at faster than light speed which means it ends before it starts, when only the most well to do fans
would be there. Being there pre-race without having carried over from post-pre simply wasn't good enough.
Vroom Fondel is the favorite this year after having upgraded to a time sensitive navigation system in hopes of avoiding an embarrassing fiasco such as
the one he experienced at last years event. Believing he had won the race, Vroom exited his ship shouting, “Eat my dust bitches!” only to find he
had in fact popped out of thin air amidst the most devastating drought the agricultural sector of the planet had ever experienced. Race officials
rescued Vroom and his crew, that would be me, just seconds before locals fed them to a particularly nasty local inhabitant named Combine Harvester.
Being the Captain of the ship I believed Vroom would bare the brunt of the criticism, as a Captain should. Instead, he simply stood aside and let me
take it full in the face. I trusted the sneaky bastage. And I won't do that again.