The Joneses #3

Late to the party? Catch up here.

 

I never knew nothin’, but I always get framed

Wolfram and Luna waited to meet the thudding fleet of footsteps approaching the corridor crossing. Carrie scurried into farther reaches of the ship.

“Holly?” Luna whispered. She was met with static.

Wolf and Luna held their breath in the brief silences between boot steps, when the thumping feet stopped to look in a side room. The group approached the intersection and stopped. Wolf and Luna’s blades hummed low. They pressed themselves against the wall holding a small mirror on a stick and poked around the corner. Wolfram’s eyes met those on the other side. A snort was heard from around the corner, the mirror withdrew. Several soldiers in riot gear entered the intersection. The one on point opened his visor.

Continue reading “The Joneses #3”

The Joneses #2

Late to the party? Catch up here.

 

Dancing in the Dark

Yaldabaoth sat at his now vacant conference table casting a dazed stare at the ice cubes melting in his scotch. Vijeda entered the room, armor jiggling and took a seat across from Yalda.

“You don’t look like a man with cause to celebrate,” Vijeda bellowed.

Yalda shifted his stare to Vijeda and gave a half hearted grin.

“This is glorious,” Vijeda declared, “Earth, the ever elusive piece of your puzzle is finally in place. Is that not cause for revelry?”

“Would be,” Yalda grunted, slumping back “If it wasn’t complete bullshit. Well, not complete bullshit. But, bullshit.”

Continue reading “The Joneses #2”

The Joneses #1

 

Old Friends

Somewhere in orbit around Sirius (2342, about noon Galactic Admin. Chronometric Standard)

Mr. and Mrs. Jones were floating in a small vessel in stellar synchronous orbit around Sirius. They stared out of the windshield at the flares coughed up the nuclear mass. Mr. Jones handed Mrs. Jones and smoldering joint and she handed him a near empty bottle. They nodded in unison to the thumping of the music bouncing around the pod.

“That one looked like a cow,” Mr. Jones said pointing out the window.

“I think I saw a cow earlier,” Mrs. Jones replied, “But it was in orbit so that may have been the mescaline.”

“Mom? Dad? We got a…,” a voice said over the music before being switched off by Mr. Jones.

Mr. and Mrs. Jones continued to nod.

‘Wu-Tang killa’ beez, we on a swarm.’

Continue reading “The Joneses #1”