Smeg.

<Snip>

“Look out Bluey!” Phil whooped.

“The slime’s comin’ home!”

</Snip>

(One hour earlier…)

“Oh, for smeg’s sake, smegging shut up!” Yasmin Adimar groaned, as she heard the melancholy BLEEP as the door to the stasis pod slid gracefully open, and she clumsily tripped over herself, ending up in a crumpled heap of, well, her, up the wall opposite.

Even after a whopping three million or so years in suspended animation (stasis for the clueless smeghead reading this), Yasmin still wasn’t quite as sober as you might of hoped. In fact, she was a little more drunk than she was sensible.

Correction: she was still hammered as anything.

“Huh?”

Clambering up onto her feet even more unsteadily than before, she leant up groggily against the wall, and belched heavily. Wow, she thought in a flash of consideration. Did I get drunk again?

Dirt marks traced along the endless-stemming hallways of the ‘Dwarf, and, since she thought of nothing better to do, she followed them. Down never-ending hallways, corridors and staircases - she managed, harder than ever, to throw up about every few hundred yards. Nevertheless, she EVENTUALLY reached her bunk room, and, upon flopping herself down on her bunk with a thud, and thwacking her head uneventfully on the bottom of the ladder to the top bunk, she lied back patiently, perhaps expected someone to come and yell at her, or do some other smeggy thing.

No such luck. She sat there, daydreaming into the depths of her own weirdly space-like mind. Until, almost twenty minutes later, she realised the impendingly obvious truth of it all.

“Smeg,” she breathed, gasping a little with the miniature shock of it. “Where the smeg’s everybody gone?”

After a second, she calmed down her breathing again, and walked over to her locker to get some wine.

OOC: Thanks for the brilliant welcome guys.