Instant Regret Kit
- Things the warehouse threw in a box
- At least you get a bag
- That’s all you’re guaranteed
- Inadvisable use of funds
The Medi-Oscars
“Uncomfortable? Aw. Good.” Gantu stared up at the captive abomination. Irk was restrained from the ceiling so that only his head could be seen. Two massive plasma turrets were pointed directly at him and seemed to follow even the slightest movement.
“The council has banished you to exile on a desert asteroid,” Gantu continued with palpable disdain, “So relax, enjoy the trip, and don’t get any ideas.”
Irk looked around, blinked twice, and said, “What if there were supplements for your butt, and we called them ‘Ass-Steroids.’”
Gantu narrowed his eyes. “Exile was too kind.”
