This is Mission 2, Part 6 of an increasingly silly community-written sci-fi parody serial.

Find the previous parts here:
Part 1: Be There or Be Square by @tanglebranch
Part 2: Hip to be Square by @negativer
Part 3: I Can See Squarely Now by @caleblailmusik
Part 4: Thank the Gods For Red Shirts by @jasonbu
Part 5: Swept Away by
Part 6: Lost in Spaces by @negativer – this thing you’re reading now.

Our mission:
As delivered by @gmuxx, The Time Lord: Galacdictator Tangle et al…. a distress signal has been detected in the Quadrangular Quadrant. Source unknown, species unknown. Take thine crew and investigate / rescue / dominate whoever it is disturbing the galactic peace

Our crew:
Galacdictator Tangle (@tanglebranch): Character profile here
Underlord Negavader (@negativer): Character profile here
Byepeex Reist-Stoomtrooper Destroyer (@jasonbu): Character profile here
Sixty-Wine (@caleblailmusik): Character profile here

Location: The surface of Planet Three of the Quadrangular Quadrant

The boobs on the horizon weren’t getting any closer, and the toaster under my arm wasn’t getting any lighter.

I considered how infrequently those thoughts might have appeared together within the lifespan of the universe, and nodded solemnly to myself at how amazingly cool I really was. I was so cool I was giving myself frostbite.

Too bad nobody was around to see it.

I strode purposefully across the square plains of Planet Three, my chatty toaster under my arm.

“Do you have a name, toaster-bot?” I interrupted his lecture on the various fine points of English muffins and how large bagels made him uncomfortable. By that time, I had learned all I cared to learn about nooks and crannies and the lubrication properties of butter.

“Ayeee. Some call me….Toaster-bot.” He drew the sentence out at the end in a way he must have thought was clever, but he was very mistaken.

“Yes, I figured that part out, because I gave you that name.” I stopped walking. The boob mountains in the distance were moving. “Toaster-bot, I think those boobs are moving away from us.”

“Probably not the first time that’s happened to you, ayeee?”

Now I was angry. I couldn’t dominate Galacdictator Tangle—not yet, anyway—but I could surely dominate a small kitchen appliance. I shook Toaster-bot with both hands, pretending it was my boss. Crumbs and little blackened bits fell out of him, and he squealed. With pleasure, I think. I was no expert on what pleases a toaster, and the less I knew on that the better.


In the midst of my blatant toaster abuse, I heard some loud bleeping. Odd. Nobody was swearing within earshot, and there certainly weren’t any children nearby that needed to be thought of.

Oh. Right. My distress sensor, which I had been using to find the source of the distress signal on this distressingly square planet. I dropped my toaster and grabbed my bleep, holding it firmly in both hands. The sensor was showing the distress signal as heading straight for us.

I looked up, expecting to see the round, breast-shaped mountains far on the horizon where my eyeballs had last left them. But while I had been focused on molesting my Toaster-bot, they had silently approached with the speed of an important deadline.

I could see they were not giant breasts, but a bunch of large mobile homes that just happened to be shaped exactly like breasts. Except these had wheels, and most breasts do not. Um…so I’ve heard, anyway.

One of the breastmobiles pulled up alongside me. A window opened in the smooth surface, and a hipster head poked out. He had finally coiffed hair, a very smooth polished mustache, and an appropriately layered quantity of plaid shirts and vests.

“Nice mustache,” I said.

“It’s a mustachio, you plebeian swine.”

“If you say so.” I shrugged. I was too cool to get into an argument with these cats. “Where you headed?”

“To the city. We’re out to prove to those squares in town how hip we are.”

Another head poked out of the small window. “We’re so hip, we only have one bone in our body, and it’s all hip,” he said with a squeaky voice before he disappeared.

“I see. So the distress signal is yours?”

“We needed help in our battle against those squares in town. And here you are. So, it worked.” He smirked, and twirled his mustache.

A battle. That might be fun. Too bad Pex wasn’t along. As far as gunslingers went, Pex could sling guns with the best of them.

I looked at the square city in the distance that had been near my landing site. The city promptly exploded. Plumes of smoke and square things rose into the sky.

“Huh. City exploded.” The driver of the breastmobile put on his black-framed lensless glasses and squinted into the distance at the exploding city.

Oh. Pex was probably there. And maybe Sixty-Wine and Juavez-7. I should probably go pick them up, since they were part of my crew after all.

“Hey, you hoopy froods. Can I hitch a ride?”

“We don’t pick up hitchhikers, guido. Not in this galaxy.”

“How about if I trade you this perfectly functional, not at all annoying toaster-bot? Lightly used, only mildly traumatized. It’s pretty smooth. Never leave home without your toaster, I always say. Never know when you might need to toast something, my mom always told me.”

“You make a good point.” The hip head considered, rubbing his fingers along his neckbeard. “And I do like toast. Hop in.”

I tossed Toaster-bot through the open window, then climbed into the breast after him. We rolled onwards to the exploding city.


For COM, I suggest @caleblailmusik and @belemo try their hand at humor.


Title image by @negativer using Canva and movie still.
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