MergePunk: An Ooorah & WattpadPunkFiction Anthology

HMACWAWGHAHTROUFH - @AngusEcrivain - SportPunk + Generation Ship

HMACWAWGHAHTROUFH

A SportPunk + Generation Ship story by AngusEcrivain

Because each and every one of them were way too cool for school, those gathered to watch the annual (well, sort of annual... Well, not annual at all really, as the fleet of generation ships carrying the last vestiges of humanity to a new home, a Super Earth in a Goldilocks orbit around a distant (like really, really distant) Red Dwarf star did not encounter asteroid belts with any degree of regularity, but still, poetic license and whatnot...) game of How Many Asteroids Can We Avoid Without Getting Hit And Having To Repair Our Utterly Fucked Hull or y'know, HMACWAWGHAHTROUFH, which when said out loud sounds akin to the noise one might expect a badger to make whilst simultaneously giving birth to a 42" flatscreen and eating a jar of out-of-date figs, chanted, "Go Shorty, it's your birthday, etc..." which was quite obviously an absolutely ridiculous thing to chant as Shorty was actually 6'2 and had no idea at all when, exactly, her birthday was, though she suspected she may well have been born on a Wednesday. 

Whilst she might not have known, exactly, when her birthday was, other than to say that she might have been born on a Wednesday, or perhaps a Saturday, and didn't actually know how old she was, though she was possibly 23 or 45, or something (not gonna' lie, CryoSleep really fucks shit up) she did know how to play HMACWAWGHAHTROUFH. Perhaps more importantly, Shorty knew how to win and was, at the helm of the enormous and aptly-named HMS Tiny Irony, reigning and defending HMACWAWGHAHTROUFH champion.

The premise of HMACWAWGHAHTROUFH was a pretty simple one. Short of not getting hit - or rather, getting hit by as nominal a number of asteroids as possible - the pilot of a given vessel gained additional points for the velocity with which said vessel travered the asteroid belt. The closer to top speed the more points accrued, and of course points were docked for each and every collision.

The best pilots, Shorty and those able to come within touching distance of her skill, generally stuck to a maximum of about three-quarters speed, and given the fact she was reigning and defending champion, it certainly worked for Shorty.

"Fancy a shag before we go back into Cryo?"

Shorty glanced up from her drink (it was actually her thirteenth, but who's counting? She certainly wasn't...) In her arms, she cradled yet another HMACWAWGHAHTROUFH winners' trophy (because of course she'd won).

"I'm good Dave, thanks," she replied with an accompanying, genuine smile. "Besides, they reckon next time we get pulled from Cryo we'll be in orbit around our new home. Reckon the next time I open my legs, I wanna' do so on a beach with the surf lapping at my feet and sand chafing my crack."

"Put me at the top of your list, and I won't even rub one out before I go to sleep." Dave grinned, and Shorty burst out laughing. "Deal?"

"Aye Dave, deal," she replied with a nod, holding up her fist for him to bump which he, of course, did. "But do me a favour and make sure you do rub one out both before you sleep and when you wake up... I don't want my first shag on a brand new world being over in seconds!"