Rob dove from the Space-helicopter like a professional diver, except instead of diving into water, he was diving into the atmosphere of a spooky planet shaped like a skull that was on fire.
The Irish Pilot was able to steady the ship, dangerously staggered by the passion of Scientist Hulk and Sexy Scientist Lady #1.
“Ayy mon, dat be some good flyin’,” commented Rasta Rick, placing his hand on his shoulder as a sign of respectful camaraderie.
Irish Pilot recognized the sign of respectful camaraderie, and gave him a thumbs up.
“Aye sir, there’s no situation I can’t pilot out of. Me ma always told me ‘Son, you’ve got to learn to fly, and you’ve got to learn to fly right, or else there’ll be no potatoes in your future.”
Rasta Rick nodded solemnly. He knew too well of the old Potato Famine that almost eliminated the Irish people, whose life-force was powered by triple-distilled potato vodka.
Suddenly there was a scream, and everyone turned to see Scientist Hulk in the throws of a terrible seizure.
“He’s having a seizure,” noted Robert.
“Thanks Rob,” said Space Marine #1.
“How can we help him?!” asked Space Marine #3.
“We can’t,” answered Sexy Scientist Lady, “I was afraid of this happening. His body was not able to tolerate going from a 2 to a 10 in the looks department. He’s dying.”
Asia Bones knew what had to be done. He karate-kicked Scientist Hulk in the head with such force that his head exploded. Brain matter spattered across everyone’s face.
“Tank you, Masta Bones, for ‘avin da courage ta do what must be done…” said Rasta Rick, extending his hand.
Asia Bones shook his hand.
“There’s nothing that makes these bones of mine sicker than seeing another living being in pain. That is why King Skeleton must be put to rest for all time. To end this nonsense war, and bring back honor to my skeletal people.”
“We gun do dat mon, but w’out da Super-Space Marines, we cahn’t get true da fire an da flames mon,” said Rasta Rick sadly.
“No, my Rasta brother. There is a way. We can still turn the Robert into a Super Space Marine. Unlike the unattractive scientist dork skinnyfat virgin, Robert has a nice, full beard and is quite handsome. Who wouldn’t want to fuck him?”
“I don’t know,” replied Space Marine #1, rubbing his hand down Robert’s back slowly.
Rob sensed his impending molestation and grabbed the syringe from the dead scientist, jammed it into his arm, and karate-kicked Space Marine #1 in the head, knocking him out cold. He then lit a match, and pressed it near his skin. The flame shrieked and died. Rob struck a pose. He was finally tough as nails.
“SUCH POWA!” exclaimed Space Marine #3, “The skeletons won’t stand a chance! But how can the rest of us help if we’re not fireproof?”
“Inside a guard station on the planet is a valve that controls all the fire on the planet. If Rob can turn that valve shut, we’ll be able to land!” explained Asia Bones, “And after that, it’ll be a piece of delicious ice cream cake taking the rest of the planet.”
“MON IT LOOKS LIKE WE GOTA PLAN, MON!” cheered Rasta Rick, “Irish Pilot, bring us close ma brodda!”
“Aye aye, sir!” said Irish Pilot, and he brought the Space-helicopter in low.
Rob tore the door open and prepared to make his jump.
Asia Bones placed his hand on his shoulder. So much respect.
“How do you feel, my child?”
“I’m ready,” said Rob, “I’m ready to finally do something great in one of these stupid stories.”
to be continued…
Planet Bones was the spookiest thing the Space Marines had ever seen. It had bats flying all around it and it was covered in spiders and it was shaped like a giant skull that was on fire.
“We’ll need our flame-retardant armor,” noted Space Marine #1.
“No, human. The fire is far too spooky and hot. It will burn through your armor like fire through a flammable substance,” explained Asia Bones.
“Then what are weh goin’ to do, mate?” asked Irish Pilot.
“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Sexy Scientist Lady #1, “We can turn you into Super Space Marines, and you’ll be fireproof.”
“But no one has ever been able to survive that process!” objected Space Marine #3, and he slammed his fist into a table and it broke in half and a piece of splintered wood flew into someone’s eye and they shouted fuck and everyone stopped for a second to make sure they were okay, and they got it out of their eye and went to go lie down. That happened to Space Marine #4 by the way, who is Asian but that’s not important.
“Now what?” asked Rob.
“I believe Rob that you have the potential to become a Super Space Marine because your body has not yet been through the trauma of becoming a regular Space Marine, so you won’t die probably or something,” explained Sexy Scientist Lady #1 scientifically.
“Yes of course, it was so obvious, the answer was right in front of us all along,” exclaimed Unattractive Scientist Man and he injected himself with his secret Super Space Marine formula and turned into a big hulking sexy brute.
“Holy shit, take me immediately!” cried Sexy Scientist Lady in a state of uncontrollable lust, and she ripped off her white lab coat, exposing her supple, milky white breasts near-bursting out of her bra.
She clawed at her bra strap, but Scientist Hulk had already leaped across the Space-Helicopter at her, and with the force of his jump, pushed her on to the floor, beginning to sensually kiss and bite her body as they hastily tore off the rest of their clothes.
In their passion, the two did not realize that Scientist Hulk’s jump had pushed the Space-Helicopter with such force that it was now spinning through the sky, completely out of control.
As Scientist Hulk thrust his Super member into Sexy Scientist Lady #1’s warm, drenched pussy, the rest of the crew ran to their stations, and held on for dear life- like Sexy Scientist Lady #1 holding on and tearing into Scientist Hulk’s back with her nails as they moaned in complete ecstasy.
oh no what’s gonna happen who knows
to be continued.
Though his consciousness was fading, Rasta Rick heard a vaguely familiar voice.
“Rick, you have to get up. The world needs you, now more than ever.”
Eyes shut, Rasta Rick replied weakly.
“Ah can’t dew it, mon… Da’s no hope in me bones.”
“THEN LOOK AT ME AND SAY THAT, RASTA RICK.”
Rasta Rick’s eyes opened. Standing over him, hand extended, was none other than Asia Bones, the legendary skeleton martial artist.
He grabbed the old master’s hand.
“How are you still alive?” he asked, as the karate-kicking skelly pulled him to his feet.
“I’m a skeleton.”
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, ASIA BONES?!” roared King Skeleton, “YOU ARE MY SERVANT. ALL SKELETONS ARE MY SERVANTS.”
“No, King Skeleton,” replied Asia Bones coolly, “I am a free skeleton. The only true loyalty of a skeleton is to what is spooky. And from here, you don’t look very spooky to me.”
King Skeleton tore his crown off his head, and it transformed into a throwing star, which he launched at Asia Bones.
But they were deflected!
Not by Asia Bones, who obviously could have done it easily because nobody can deflect throwing stars like him,
but by Rasta Rick!
“Ay mon, you right. As long as der’s a smokey breath in mah body, der is ALWAHYS HOPE.”
He drew his blunt broadsword and crushed a skeleton guard.
Asia Bones did a double front-flip and 1-handed clotheslined 2 skeletons at once.
“Sire, they’re kicking out asses!” cried a skeleton guard.
“Yes, yes, I can see that you pussies,” spat King Skeleton, “You all stay here and die, I’m going to take Raymond and retreat on to Planet Bones!”
“NOT PLANET BONES!” exclaimed Asia Bones.
But it was too late. King Skeleton had grabbed Raymond’s unconscious body and escaped in a pod that was used for escape.
“What be on Planet Bones?” asked Rasta Rick, as he bludgeoned another group of skellies with his weed weapon.
“It… it’s the HOME PLANET OF THE SKELETONS. THEY’R GOING TO SACRIFICE RAYMOND TO THE SPOOK GODS.”
“SHAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAA!” screeched a skelly as Rasta Rick smashed his hip bone with his boot.
“Ah no, mon. It be sum baaaad juju comin’ from derrr. We need ta regroup wit dah space m’rines, it’s dah only way.”
Asia Bones snapped another skeleton guard’s neck.
“Agreed. We’ll pick up your men, and launch an attack on Planet Bones.”
to be continued, matey
Rasta Rick gasped in horror.
Before him stood a room full of skeletons, half-dressed in Alien disguises. The Aliens were Skeletons all along. Of COURSE, IT ALL MADE SENSE.
They all turned to him and started shrieking at a low-volume.
“‘Ow could dis be, mon? Da last ‘o de skellies died yearsss ahgo,” he said loudly, so he could be heard over the shrieking.
“Isn’t it obvious, Rasta Rick?” said The Skeleton King, appearing from an adjacent room.
“Skel’on King!” gasped Rasta Rick, holding his heart, “Ah saw yew die in da war against de Rhino-men!”
“No, Rasta Rick. You saw what I wanted you to see. I became fed up with humanity’s constant wars. The skeleton people grew tired of being humanity’s protectors. Can’t you see that humanity is the galaxy’s worse cancer? Can’t you see that Rasta Rick? You need to be wiped out, so the rest of us can be free of your oppressive imperialism.
“No mahn, no. Not all humans be like dat. Dey don deserve dis.”
But then the Skeleton King put on a pair of wing-tipped glasses and tweeted #NotAllHumans to make fun of Rasta Rick for not wanting to be generalized. How dare he derail Skeleton King’s legitimate, vague concerns about the sins of all mankind and try to make this conversation about him?
The blow was devastating.
As Rasta Rick fell on to his back, he looked up at the sky and a tear flew from his eye. He had failed. The only thing he had ever cared about was protecting those weaker than him, which was literally everyone. But now, as he drew his final breaths, he knew that there was no hope for the survival of the human race. He hit the ground hard.
Darkness clouded his vision. It was over.
Meanwhile, on the surface of the planet, Robert and the Space Marines had discovered the scientists.
“Thank God you’re here!” cried sexy scientist lady #1
“Don’t thank God,” Space Marine #1 responded, flexing his augmented guns (muscles), “Thank You Scientist.”
“We’ve got to get you out of here,” said Space Marine #2, “So you can create more Space Marines and we can push the aliens back.”
But then sexy scientist lady #2 pulled off her face mask and revealed that she was actually an Alien all along.
“HAHA SUCKERS, I WAS AN ALIEN ALL ALONG!” it shrieked, and it punched Space Marine #2 through the wall.
“Lord almighty what the fuck,” said Space Marine #1 pushing the remaining scientists into a running retreat.
“I thought the Aliens were pussies,” said Rob as they bolted through the corridors, the Alien right behind them.
“I’ve never seen one actually get close enough to physically attack someone,” answered Space Marine #1, “Apparently, they have fucking super-strength.”
The Alien stopped suddenly and put his finger to his ear, as if receiving a message. This was because he was receiving a message.
“Yes, sire,” it said, and it looked up at the humans.
“Hey fuckbois,” it said, “Get a load of this.”
The Alien peeled off its face- yet another mask- revealing his true Skeleton form.
“What the fuck,” said Rob.
Space Marine #1 threw a grenade at the Skelly and they continued retreating.
“They’re supposed to be our allies!” said Sexy Scientist Lady #1.
The group made it to the door, and Space Marine #1 quickly placed an explosive charge, which they detonated once they’d exited, blocking the Alie-Skeleton from continuing after them.
The site before them now was the spookiest shit ever witnessed.
The Aliens were no more- now a horde of Skeleton rushed against the landing zone of the Space-Helicopter. The Irish Pilot and his cohorts were still keeping them at bay, but Jesus Christ it was so spooky. All those bones clicking and clacking. oh lordy lord.
“Aye! They’re back!” said Irish Pilot, “Prepare for launch everyone!”
He fell back into the Space-Helicopter, and the other Space Marines began backing up as the rescue team made it onboard.
“Wait,” said Rob, “Where’s Rasta Rick!?”
[to be continued…]