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The black hole draws you inexorably inward. Time slows. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.
I'd diddle little umdidlie... if she weren't my half-sister. Abortion prevents pedophilia. In more ways than one!   Notice to all users of the Holodeck: There are safety protocols in place that cannot be deactivated without the approval of two commanding officers or the captain to protect users of the Holodeck from potential harm. However, every time the Holodeck is ever used in a nontrivial manner, no matter what the safety protocols say, the Holodeck turns into a deathtrap. Unless you believe yourself to be adept at constructing a forcefield from your communicator and 19th century Earth tools, or you're at the very least not wearing a red shirt, you are strongly advised not to attempt to use the Holodeck until a designer comes up with a safety protocol that doesn't kill you whenever somebody looks at it funny. Even when you're not on the holodeck. Or in the same quadrant. Or time period. In fact, if you are wearing a red shirt, Starfleet may not be the job for you  |
I'm dreaming of a paper HalloweenIt's Halloween. Almost, anyway. Two days. Bridget is excited because she gets to be the one who gives out treats to kids. Little does she know, she'll be the crazy lady who gives out poisoned treats to kids. Shh, don't tell. In the mean time, I've been making my Halloween decoration. Yeah, one singular, decoration. Because that's about as festive as I get. Here it is:  As you can see, these are ancient Russian Matryoshka Pumpkins. Great for jack'o'lanterns. Not so great for pumpkin pie. In case you couldn't see them:  Oh, did I mention that's all paper? 10 sheets, to be exact. No feedback yetLeave a comment |
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