[Many-Tendrils] ran a tired furry tentacle over his muzzle as he stared blankly at the monitor. It had been several cycles ago that one of the Galactic Committee’s enemies’ fleets, a [locust] race, had disappeared into the inky depths and just recently he had seen their readings on the monitor. The council wanted to know where they were and what happened to them, so it was up to his group to figure out what happened. [Locusts], especially such an aggressive and ambitious species such as the Animi, did not just disappear. At least, not without a lot of fanfare. They were especially notable in that they were one of the few species that had living organic ships. They had disappeared when they went deeper into space toward a little mineral rich quadrant and he had detected an elevated energy read, then nothing, followed by a return of the energy in a completely different configuration. The readings had changed so much as to be completely different, another entity entirely. He was wondering what to report to the higher-ups. [Many-Tendrils] turned to his co-worker and friend Ark, one of few in the little moon outpost.
“Can you bring up the records of when and where the Animi disappeared again, companion?”, he asked tiredly. Ark grunted, clicking her rows of jagged teeth, as she started pulling up videos and records. It took her a while, slogging through the different [locust] races, but her three eyes alighted on the file and she licked them nervously, her tongue darting out to swipe at non-existent dirt in her eyes as she stared at the footage.
“Uhhh… You might wanna take a look at this, Boss…”
[Many-Tendrils] held back an ear flick of annoyance and calmly turned toward Ark’s monitor. He looked at her screen and saw some human harvesting fleets, humans called them Swarm Fleets, stripping asteroids of useful materials. They were, like all human technology, overly sturdy and overly efficient. Some ships grinded rock and ate away at the asteroids while others flitted delicately by nebulae, siphoning up useful gases. Others still, basked in the starlight absorbing energy and recharging the batteries in its swollen hull. Business as usual for the humans, they hadn’t quite breached their quadrant’s border yet and so weren’t very high on the list to make First Contact.
Then the Animi and their living meat ships warped in. He grimaced, baring teeth stained orange from drinking too much Tarlasian stimulant.
This will be a one sided slaughter, he thought to himse
... keep reading on reddit ➡The funeral director was asking us what we think Mum should wear in her casket.
Mum always loved to wear sarongs (fabric wraps that go around the torso and drape downward a bit like a long skirt would), so my uncle suggested that she wear a sarong in there.
The funeral director looked a bit confused, as did some of our family members, to which my uncle added:
"What's sarong with that?"
I started laughing like an idiot. He was proud of it too. The funeral director was rather shocked. We assured her, and our more proper relatives, that Mum would've absolutely loved the joke (which is very true).
His delivery was perfect. I'll never forget the risk he took. We sometimes recall the moment as a way help cushion the blows of the grieving process.
--Edit-- I appreciate the condolences. I'm doing well and the worst is behind me and my family. But thanks :)
--Edit-- Massive thanks for all the awards and kind words. And the puns! Love 'em.
I would have a daughter
But Bill kept the Windows
True story; it even happened last night. My 5-year-old son walks up behind me and out of the blue says, "hey."
I turn to him and say, "yeah, kiddo? What's up?"
He responds, "it's dead grass."
I'm really confused and trying to figure out what's wrong and what he wants from me. "What? There's dead grass? What's wrong with that?"
.
.
.
He says, totally straight-faced, "hay is dead grass," and runs off.
You officially hit rock bottom
And then you will all be sorry.
