Parable of the Pearacle

A Tearable Pearable

We launched 12 pilots strong including lightly used maggots Ziqqurat and Nova, and with two (2) well-lit Klingons in tow. Bane Thunderwolf's pants were in a state of fashionable disrepair.

Rad Max ejected forcefully from her newly reforged morphship Rapscallion, earning a medal of injury and some artfully torn pink fishnets, and subsequently burned up. Nova accompanied her home.

Due to the almost complete disintegration of his shortsy shielding, Navigator Bane's protocol droid became corrupted by cosmic rays, and we wandered through trackless, feckless, fruitless hinterlands. After long pearigrinations, a cargonical, and light g-well activity, we achieved the plaza of the Great Fruit.

We drummed it like a gong, bathed in its eternal Clappishness, and got snax. Many Earth hu-mans were in evidence and we performed outreach as is our duty to the cosmos. Fart Noises and Leotard circumpiloted the pear, embracing it the better to absorb its juicy radiance. We tore off a piece of Bane's disintegrating shorts and made a rubbing of the pear's integumental texture. The Stations were observed, the Inscriptions read aloud, and we honored the contribution of pilot Bird as one of the mighty forgers. Skunk and Leotard made a sortie to a local Tardis, which we found much like those of our own system but lacking in TP. These primitive planets – bang the rocks together, guys!

Then we launched, and flew casual home by a more conventional route. Curiously, one of the Earthun observers we encountered at the Pear reappeared en route -- possibly due to a time-loop? The oracle has been observed, and we found favor -- or at least the Pear Being didn't send us buckets of radiation this time. Maggot Ziqqurat turned in a fine flight and is fast outgrowing his diapers.

Morals: NOT A QUINCE. Tardises are smellier on the inside. Children love Trinity. If you tear off a piece of Bane Thunderwolf's pants, the piece will form new, smaller pants.