- Chief Executive Officer
- Posts: 5708
- Joined: Mon Jan 10, 2005 9:45 pm
- Location: Scotland
Please discuss stuff in the discussion thread. The only rule is to be mindful of what other authors may or may not want to write about, re: crossovers and original characters.
It was a scene you've seen before. Unless you don't watch the show of course. Most of the Planet Express staff (except Zoidberg, who was still sucking a rock that tasted of sea water for breakfast) sitting around the big table. Just waiting for their cue...
Which came a moment later when the Professor entered with a large crate and said "Good news everyone!"
It was so much easier to blame it on Them. It was bleakly depressing to think that They were Us. If it was Them, then nothing was anyone’s fault. If it was Us, what did that make Me? After all, I’m one of Us. I must be. I’ve certainly never thought of myself as one of Them. No one ever thinks of themselves as one of Them. We’re always one of Us. It’s Them that do bad things. - Jingo, Terry Pratchett
- Insane Underling
- Posts: 11684
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2001 2:00 pm
- Custom Title: Jokin' LeEdger
The crate was dumped on the table. Fry fancied he heard a faint, very faint, ticking from inside.
"This should be a simple delivery", the Professor went on. "This mystery package should be delivered to the DOOP headquarters here in New New York. I believe Hermes has more in-depth instructions."
"Ahem." Hermes stood up, glancing over an electronic notepad. "The package is to be delivered to a mon known only as Deep Cowl, who should be on de premises. He will take care of it. Also, it is very important dat you deliver it within two hours."
"Sounds like we've got no time to lose", Leela said, getting up. "Let's get crackin'."
"I don't know", Fry muttered, leaning back in his chair. "It's more fun waiting till the last minute, and then you'll have to run."
Riding on the missile with a cowboy hat?
Oh, well the world is gonna end
So dance around the fire that we once believed in
Oh, wanna tear it down again, now
'Cause there's nothing left for us to bleed
Give it up, the sons of anarchy
So come around and have another round on me!
DANCE, F***ER, DANCE, LET THE MOTHERF***ER BURN!
-- The Offspring, "Slim Pickens Does the Right Thing and Rides the Bomb to Hell"