Space Bores: A Parody of Galactic Proportions
Notes: I'm going to be parodying a lot of well known space operas, sci-fi, lots of other stuff, and some of the stories here. Let's see if you can get all the references. There will be stereotypes here. However, the point of having these stereotypes is to show how moronic and often times racist they are.
Chapter 1: Command and Crash
Corporal Admiral Michael Picrud-Ypres stood on the bridge of the HISS Pendergast. The Pendergast was a legendary ship in the Star Combat And Research Fleet. It had held off several Mbwun class frigates while defending the HISS Smithback. The HISS Pendergast had the most powerful cannons this side of the galaxy. All of them had two orb-like power cells next to each other, with a shaft-like gun barrel in the center.
"Fire main cannons forward!" CAMPY ordered.
A barrage of white energy shot forward from the cannons. The sound of white-colored lasers firing in an airless vacuum could be heard from the bridge. The ship in front of them exploded.
"That ought to show those commie bastards to peacefully protest on my watch!" he yelled.
A blonde officer ran onto the bridge.
"Corporal Admiral! We have a guest on board!" the large busted officer exclaimed, with her chest bouncing up and down.
CAMPY, mesmerized looking at his officer's jiggling chest, nodded in agreement.
"His name is Elron Hub-Ard, and he's a master of a cult, er…occultist. He also writes corny sci-fi and has followers buy it in droves," the blonde continued.
"Thanks, officer…" CAMPY said, not remembering the blonde officer's name, "Hey, that sounds like a Salvatore name."
"Huh?" she asked.
He always thought of her as the Large-Breasted Blonde Wench, or simply, the Dumb Blonde. She had a DB on her nametag. That's it, DB. That sounded familiar. Was her name Debbie?
"Eh, thanks, officer. You're relieved." he quickly recovered.
DB saluted and left the bridge.
CAMPY looked around at the people on the bridge. Hell, he never remembered most of their names anyway. They all looked the same and talked the same. They were expendable anyway, since whenever the ship was hit, control panels and consoles on the bridge would short out in their faces. Since arcane devices known as "surge protectors" where banned, circuits and monitors on the ship would explode randomly when hit.
Another officer entered the bridge. He was clad in high-tech armor that looked vaguely like an ancient samurai. At his side was a traditional katana, and the guy inside was obviously Japanese. "Space Samurai Baka reporting," he saluted, "You requested me earlier?"
"Baka… Ain't that Japanese for idiot?" CAMPY asked, "You Japs sure have odd words."
"You know some Japanese words?" Baka asked, "And who are you to judge a language?"
"Huh? I just knew that from my…educational tapes from Japan," CAMPY pointed to his anime collection.
A random technician on the bridge pointed out. "Captain, that's tentacle hentai! Japanese porno cartoons with schoolgirls raped by tentacle monsters!"
To avoid embarrassing the Asian guy and making him feel like an outsider, CAMPY promptly shot the technician's computer with his energy pistol. Predictably, the thing exploded in the hapless crew member's face. "Medical emergency! Clear the stif…er…brave crew member!" the Corporal Admiral ordered. He turned to Baka. "Wiring around here's dangerous. We should have one of you Asians fix it. You're handy with computers, right?"
"No, moron. You're a pathetic excuse for an officer if I've ever seen one. Corporal-Admiral? What kind of rank is that? It sounds like some moron just slapped two unrelated ranks together because it "sounded cool!" Plus, you have no tactical skill whatsoever! You don't plan attacks, use evasive moves,or use different weapons. All you do is yell "Fire the main guns!" and try to grope that blonde moron!" Baka continued. "Plus, you're a racist bastard treating me like an Asian stereotype in some bad movie!"
"Baka, SCAR Fleet isn't paying you to talk sense. Their paying you to act like a samurai. But in space. See?" CAMPY asked.
"Why the hell would they need a samurai in space? Shouldn't marines handle close quarters combat and snipers handle ranged combat? If they want blind loyalty, they should just hire some Southern Baptists and a televangelist instead!" Baka yelled.
"The magic word, Baka, is pay. Just do it, or we fire you and hire an anime fan," CAMPY threatened, "Now go and make me and our guest Elron some sandwiches!"
"Wha…Oh, I mean, domo arigoto, honored CAMPY-sama," Baka muttered sarcastically.
Baka left the bridge muttering to himself.
"Send up the Engineer!" the Captain ordered a technician.
A man dressed in denim overalls with an engineers' cab came up. "Yes, CAMPY?" he asked.
"Did I interrupt something?" Mike asked, looking at the engineer's garb. "You look like a nineteenth century railway engineer!"
"You sure as hell did! I was just setting up my model trains!" the Engineer shouted. "I have Lionels! Lionels! You know how rare working Lionel trains are nowadays? Almost as rare as decent commanding officers!"
"Lionels? Sounds like some sort of monster," CAMPY asked, pulling out his energy pistol. "We should hunt it down! Before it eats us all and impregnates us with its foul parasitic offspring!"
The Engineer rolled his eyes. "Lionels are type of model train. And considering Baka and I are the only ones on this ship to graduate high school, I'd think you should at least show us some respect."
"I call you the Engineer. That's about as much respect as you deserve, you heartless elitist!" CAMPY yelled back. "Here, I need your technical expertise. This one light on the dashboard is always on! It never turns off!"
"Corporal-Admiral, that's the Life Support indicator. If that thing goes off, we all die slowly in space. Or we get sucked out a broken airlock," the Engineer said, "And whatever you do, please stop shooting consoles. Our ship's power supply is already strained and ready to combust."
"Huh?" CAMPY asked.
"Basically, stop plugging all that garbage into the power grid. You know, like your hot tub, your hologram hooker collection, and so on," the Engineer replied, "My model trains have their own portable generator, so I don't have to worry about overloading the power grids."
"Thanks but no thanks," CAMPY rolled his eyes. "Now, go back to whatever you elitist bastards do."
"Good thing I have my trains to occupy me," the Engineer grumbled as he left the bridge.
CAMPY wondered why it was all his main crew members didn't like him.
"Corporal-Admiral! We detect space pirates dead ahead!" a random technician ordered.
"Fire the main guns!" he instinctively replied.