Status: Success
Nasty Jazz
Clams in the pot and fresh laser hull plating equipped, our flyboys were straight out the gate faster than you can say applesauce, as many did exclaim this night. The bank was closed but that ain't no thing. We weren't looking for the handcuffs. We fly for freedom and that freedom did all the ringing. Our lasers were the bee's knees but the FTL Merica was such a pill and our crew had the chops and flew like hep cats! Now, we ain't no alligators but we ain't no turkeys neither. We light up the night like some mugglin mighty mezz. You dig?
We had one objective this Saturnight and that was to give ourselves up to the chromasonic wave and keep it nasty. Now, don't get it twisted. We didn't mean nothin' by it! I mean, I have a lot of nasty friends, and my uncle was nasty. I'm basically honorary nasty but I'm not talking nasty like some ghost wearing a dead guy. That might be the nastiest thing I've ever seen! No no no! I'm talking nasty. Nuh-Nuh-Nuh-Nuh-Nasty! Nasty jazz!
Our fate was in the wind and our souls were on the road. Radiobox delivered an improvisational musical salad of jazzy jazz hits from the ancient Earth database and when the stream would catch a break, the leader became the follower. Musical Nav/tail! Our recruits returned, now cadets and prepared for the weighty challenge. With a roll of the dice, Civitron and Sage determined which ships to pilot and though the ships were tiny, flying them was no small feat.
The civilians were some cool cats, tonight. Foods grillin foods and all for our consumption, as were their to be consumed by eyes so bright and wide, dazzled by the lasers bedazzling our spacecraft. Younglings space ran along side our formation as we passed through the Temple Landing Cluster but the gravitational pull was too great and they gently descended back to their colorful domiciles.
Through the night sky, we zigged and zagged. Falcon Millenium and Electric maintained the posi vibes and the New Bedford System shook by our might. Laugh you butterfly, who dances in the mud. Laugh you piece of dental floss. You burn me toast!