How do I start? I’m not very good at words.
Alright, Eventually, and/or never, and/or always, and/or some time ago, and/or right now, etc., there was a Salksi bounty hunter named…
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Oh, wait, you don’t know what a Salksi is, do you? Ok, the Salksi, for the purposes of this story, are a sentient species of humanoid rattlesnakes with heads resembling that of a boa, the snake, not the clothing item and/or bank, alright? Ok.
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So Eventually, and/or never, and/or etc. etc., Salksi bounty hunter named Xerxes Morris McFrazier…
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That reminds me, my name is not important… and I mean that both as in that it isn’t important to the story and also that it is my legal name, Not-Important, I’m the Narrator… I guess. I guess because I’m not the Writer, that’s someone else entirely, I’m the one telling you what the Writer wrote.
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Does that mean I’m a sentient piece of writing? I don't like to think about it.
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Anyways, Eventually, and/or etc. etc. you get the fucking point, Xerxes Morris McFrazier, Salksi bounty hunter, was sitting in his ship, The Revnik, The Revnik being an illegally modified BHIaBCV, BHIaBCV being an acronym of Bounty Hunter Inhabitance and Bounty Containment Vehicle, Known for its ease to modify, cheap price and horrid wire management and difficulty to repair, the BHIaBCV is the most decent bounty hunter specialized craft you can get for its price range and capacity while still making your mechanic want you dead, as manufactured and ‘invented’ by Spazploration (pronounced Space-ploration) Inc. (which we won’t talk about too much, yet).
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Fuck, I started rambling again. From the top, Eventually, etc., Xerxes M. McFrazier, Salksi bounty hunter, was sitting in his ship, The Revnik, more specifically in the Captain's Quarters, as he is the captain and therefore his quarters, in which he kept, as humans would call it, his collection of yaoi smut, which is defined by humans as meaning ‘Male-on-Male Homoerotic Pornography’, A thing Xerxes only kinda understands given the Salksi’s lack of any perception of Gender and/or Sexuality, Despite that he finds it arousing and I don’t think I was wrote to judge that so…
Starting over because I did it again.
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Eventually, and/or never, and/or always, and/or some time ago, and/or right now, etc., in the Captain's Quarters of a small- to medium-sized spacecraft called The Revnik, there was a Salksi bounty hunter named Captain Xerxes Morris McFrazier, there in his brownish, single-breasted leather vest worn open over a cotton dress shirt lightly stained with blood and khaki cargo pants (he had a hat as well, he just wasn't sure where it was at the time) he sat on the cot that he had just woken up in, somewhat hungover and very sore, and scratched his face, just under the scar that adorned his left eye and the surrounding area, and tried to remember what happened, was happening, and was about to happen. He failed, instead remembering that he had a headache that felt less alcohol-induced and more getting-your-head-stomped-induced, he also remembered that if he had his head stomped he would have said the safeword before it got this painful if it was consensual, and shot the bastard who did it given it wasn't, and that he was still conscious.
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So he came to a conclusion, either he got his ass beat, or he got extremely drunk and headbutted a wall. He arose from his pathetic sit into a drunken stumble and then a fall facefirst onto the floor. He laid there for a moment…
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Then the door opened.
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