VIRUS INCLUDED sciencefiction stories

lucas2 Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
What's this? Dark weird humour? A writing style to fit an 11-year old? A potential disaster? Join Simmons and Lucas, one who wants to conquer the Solar System, and one who wants to finish a story. And Timmy! He's just... Timmy.


"AAAAAAARGH!" yelled Lucas as he stared at his monitor. Blank. Nadda. Zip. Nothing. Empty. Stupid. Brain. No. IDEAS! Lucas moved his gaze towards his coffee mug. Hmmmmmmm....

He inched his finger towards the mug. A little sip won't hurt... A shadowy hand slapped his finger away. "NO! MY COFFEE!" shouted Timmy, his sleep paralysis demon. Timmy only wakes up at 3 A.

M to dance/rave/play Despacito at full volume until Lucas wakes up, and then make sure he never sleeps again. Timmy also enjoys baking. And yes, I've lost my mind.

"So how much have you written already?" Timmy had started to perch on the bed like a canary. Lucas gestured towards the blank screen.

"How much do you think?" "Well, that's disappointing," he grumbled. "Hey! Readers! Remind Lucas boi here what we're supposed to be writing about!" said Timmy to the readers.

"What are you doing?"" Breaking the fourth wall! It's fun!" Timmy said gleefully. "Meh, I'm bored. Introduction end!" ordered Timmy. "You can't just end this funny introduct-

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Wow. He actually did it. I am not impressed. Anyways, where were we? Ah yes, the story. On with it then. On the outskirts of the planet known as T-20, or Earth, a big black thing lurked.

This big black thing was an Anorian Scout-Class battleship, and it might as well have BUM BUM BUM BUMMMMMM coming out of its speakers, because boy was it menacing.

It practically SCREAMED bad guy ship, with its pointy edges, dull monotone colour and big laser guns jutting out everywhere. And at the head of the ship? The cliche bad guy, a.k.

a Colonel Benard "Striker" Simmons the Fourth. Sounds like a normal Earth name? Well, those names are used all the time.

There's no such thing as an "alien name" ; those are just quirky random names that sound cool thought up by half-drunk authors on Betelugusear with half a Sarkonian coin to their name.

{Side Note: Betelugusear is an enormous interstellar casino about the size of half a planet. Intergalactic currency is allowed, and there are hotels and restaurants for you to stay the night.

You could gamble away your life savings there, or earn twice that amount for free. Frankly, it's where innocence comes to die.} Simmons stood at the helm, gazing to the planet below.

I suppose it's time to explain why he's here, but I'm lazy, so I'll ask him to do it himself. "Oi! Simmons!" Simmons lifted his head to glance at the Author.

"Hm?" I asked Simmons to explain why he was here. Simmons said in a monotone, brainwashed voice: "I am here to conquer the solar system.

I am from the planet Kendobee, and I am scouting ahead to see if T-20, also known as Earth, has any defenses against interstellar weapons,

but it turns out they don't even acknowledge our existence.

{Side Note: Kendobee also is infamous for raising up natural-born conquerors, who would grow up to be so ruthless that it was said one monarch even conquered a solar system,

just because they had a particularly good chain of Starshipbucks Coffee. Ooh. That reminds me. I'm going to take a break from these side notes and go drink coffee. Author out.}

Aaaaaaaaah. Coffee makes everything better, doesn't it? I'll answer that for you. Yes, yes it does. You're welcome in advance. Now, readers, I need to make a choice.

Should I abandon this story for lack of motivation and go eat chocolate, or continue on and eat noodles while writing? Hmm.

'Tis a hard choice in deed, isn't it? "OI, GET ON WITH THE STORY ALREADY!!" shouted the Readers. Ok, ok! Yeesh. You guys remind me of the K'halaks of TonTon.

{Side Note: The K'halaks of TonTon are an ambiguous bipedal race which resemble two-legged chairs with mouths.

They only devour and consume the best of stories, which puts authors in TonTon quite the admired profession.

} Simmons strode down to the spaceship's canteen, where there were quite a number of restaurants. There were the iconic McSpacenalds, Burger Emperor, and even an Intergalactic hotpot.

There truly was something for everyone. He sauntered down to the bar, where Archie was working.

Archie was a Klingaxian from Furrou, which basically means he was a huge furry green spider who spat yogurt. Which of course made Klingaxian yogurt just spit, but hey. It was tasty spit.

Archie had given up the way of yogurt and was currently studying the way of beer. It was safe to say that he was a quick learner, his beers were known throughout Furrou. "The usual, please.

" muttered Simmons. It had been a long, confusing day and he was ready to forget all about it in one quick swig of Space Tiger.

"Alright," muttered Archie, his back leg already swinging to grab the beer bottle behind him. Little did he know, this one seemingly normal beer bottle would change the fate of T-20 completely.

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After a quick snack, he disabled the security camera in his office (hacking was a natural skill for him), and nervously opened up his secret cooler box. Inside was a homebrewed Oolong Spewer.

{Side Note: the Oolong Spewer (pronounced u-long) is an infamous alcoholic concoction that leaves you so intoxicated that you have visions of make-believe pagan gods in your toilet bowl.

Then in the morning you feel like a god... for about five minutes until your brain can't take anymore of this cringlepoop and drops dead. That's fine if you have a second head, though.

} And Norman did have a second head. So he was going to be fine. He shakily took the brew out of the cooler box, stored inside what looked like a normal beer bottle.

He was about to drink it, when an asteroid collided with the spaceship. Norman yelled in surprise as his office shuddered and the bottle flew out of his hands.

It was flung through the room and flew through the window. Norman's window was connected to the back of the bar. He liked to smell the food that was cooking.

Unfortunately, the bottle flew into the bar and conveniently knocked Simmon's usual beer bottle into another place, itself taking the usual place. Uh ohhhhhhh. We all know what's gonna happen!


Archie grabbed the "usual" beer bottle and gave it to Simmons. "Drink up," he chittered gruffly. Simmons didn't even check or sniff the bottle. He chugged it all up in one gulp.

For a few seconds, he felt fine. Then BABDADAHKAL ALAJAIJAOOA OAOOAOAOAADHJ IL!!!!!!!!!!! You know, I can't really explain how a person feels when they drink the Oolong Spewer.

Here is an example of what happened to someone who drank itwithout two heads, in the form of a poem.

There was a young man from G'end,

His beer-drinking skills were legend,

One day he met,

A man with a net,

Who gave him the Oolong Spewer,

He drank it with heart

But as soon as the start,

His head exploded with a thumper.

Simmons had a much better beer resistance than that of the aforementioned young man, and so he was just severely drunk. He giggled and sauntered and pirouetted through the air. Wheee.

Simmons felt wonderfully childish as he caterpillar-walked to the ship's airlock.

Just think of the wonderful, pizazzy razzmatazz-y things he could do! Make a planet into pie, somehow make turtles fly, colour me blue, smear faces with poo, and-Oh!

I got carried away with talking, hehe! Back to the story. Simmons smacked his face to the side of the wall, pushing it forward until his teeth reached a button.

He accidentally opened the airlock, immediately sucking him into the black vacuum of space.

Just before he died, he remembered being diagnosed with a normally harmless virus which was very contagious. Then, as a passing meteorite fell down to T-20, his brain exploded.

Exploding brain-y noises ensue as Simmon's brain fluid splattered onto the meteorite, carrying the virus to T-20.

"Aaand done!" said Lucas triumphantly as he typed in the last words. "Oooh, that's nice," observed Timmy.

"Aren't you going to tell them that you hid a secret message within the binary code up there?" "Timmy, sometimes people have to figure things out by themselves." Lucas said with a sly grin.

"Authors," Timmy muttered. "Pure evil, I tell ya."


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