Day 78: The Killer Gnomes

Remind me the next time I start thinkin' that I'm seein' agrobiology gnomes following me to NOT shoot at them with my plasma rifle. The cap' damn near tore me a new one after I sobered up and realized what I'd been up to. Ya see... there seems to have been a little extra somethin'-somethin' in my snake whiskey. I have to admit that I do feel kick ass now that I know all those gnomes are dead. Their beady little eyes were followin' me around! I swear! So, yeah, I realize they probably weren't really there. Whatever. A good gnome is a dead gnome. That's what mom always says.

Another bonus of soberin' up completely? No more thinkin' that I can go outside the cargo bay door without a pressure suit. Nice. Stupid gnomes outside on the hull! They were tauntin' me, I tell ya.

I'm packing all my goods for the trip to camp tomorrow. A transport barge is supposedly pickin' me up at the crack of 'verse time. I've decided my old stun gun Marge out of retirement. See you guys tomorrow night.

Day 79: My Head Is Explodin'

I forget exactly what I was thinkin' when I broke out the snake whiskey last night. I'd been hidin' that crap inside my plasma flare container so I wouldn't drink it. Oh, but it seemed like a good idea last night what with my busy activities comin' on next week.

I got pulled over by an Alliance patrol the last time I drank snake whiskey, so I knew this time I'd be havin' an interestin' evening. I'll be sure to tell you about my interestin' time as soon as I start recollectin' exactly what it was that I did. I've got a vague recollection of flossing my teeth with cobra fangs. There's also a bag of freeze dried chipmunks hangin' from my bunk. Must have been good times. I think. Maybe.