Abu-Dhabi Khristatata
18-02-2006, 07:56
OOC: Yeah man... I'm bored and feel like writing, so hey to all you crazy people. This is probably going to be shitty, I don't give a fuck. Whatever.
IC:
A Khristian Space Colony, somewhere in the depths of space...
It had been a long time since they had heard anything from any sort of planetary Khristian government... They had been mainly trading with other such colonies throught the local emptiness, yet fullness of space. And really, for the past 145 years, nothing interesting had happened in the realm of Khristendom. They sat in stagnation not really carrying, a race of apathy cast aside by their own will.
A blonde-headed teenager walked down one of the dirty corridors of the Marcus colony. The red paint the military had originally painted on the steel of the hallway was now peeling and covered with graffitti. Various phone numbers and pseudo-revolutionary slogans added a flare of destitution and anarchy to the formerly bleak corridors. The teen yawned and kept walking as he passed some drunken bum laying by one of the airlocks, his hair wild with uncleanliness. Poor old man.... Probably got kcked out of his apartment by some fuckin' corporate revolutionaries.
The blonde Khristian boy knocked on the door of one of the apartments, M-119. "Hold on!" was yelled from behind the door. The boy adjusted his glasses as the door slid open to reveal another blonde Khristian boy on the other side.
"Oh, hey John. You really need to uh, not knock like a policeman."
"Sorry about that Calogero."
"It's alright dude."
John entered the relatively clean room, dressed in black and red, with neat stacks of books and clothes lined along the walls and peices of old newspapers lying in the middle of the floor. "So yeah, I was wondering if you had any food you could give me," asked John.
"Fuck dude, you eat all my fucking food."
"Well, it's not like I can find a job, we don't have any schools any more, 'cause all the adults are too busy trying to keep this damn place from falling apart."
"Yeah, I really want to get out of this fucking prison and see the universe."
John sat down on a broken chair, it's back bent over to one side and it's wheels all missing. "Yeah I've always wanted to see Mars..." he mused.
"Dude, you know what I want?" asked Calogero.
"What?"
"Some pot."
"Dude, whatever, I don't really want any. I don;t like the thought of my lungs being on fire. We need some women here that aren't fucking whores, our society's so fucking degenerated man."
"What the hell are you talking about John? Since when has Khristendom had fucking morals? We're like the damn scum of the universe and here we are isolated in this fucking shithole and all we have left to do is feel good about our miserable lives before some tragedy happens."
"Yeah, whatever, it doesn;t really matter Cal. Nothing really matters anymore, nothing has every really mattered. No matter how hard people work and toil for glory and wealth and shit, they all die, everything's just a fucking waste man. Not just us, but the entire fucking universe. I me--"
"John, how can you say that, you've never been off this damn station in your 15 year existence."
"Shut the hell up, it's not my fault you can't scrap enough money together for a 1/20 of an ounce. All you ever want to do is go somewhere and smoke or sit in here and drink, you're just going to make your life shorter man."
"Fuck you. At least I can get girls man."
"Yeah all those STD infested chicks, that's lovely, can't even get medicine here regurly, fucking stupid politicans."
"Dude, John, we really need to get out of here..."
Calogero leans back in his chair as John just sits silently, resting his chin on his hand as they both sit back and think for a few minutes...
"Have you ever wondered if kids generations back talked like us and had the same problems we do?"
IC:
A Khristian Space Colony, somewhere in the depths of space...
It had been a long time since they had heard anything from any sort of planetary Khristian government... They had been mainly trading with other such colonies throught the local emptiness, yet fullness of space. And really, for the past 145 years, nothing interesting had happened in the realm of Khristendom. They sat in stagnation not really carrying, a race of apathy cast aside by their own will.
A blonde-headed teenager walked down one of the dirty corridors of the Marcus colony. The red paint the military had originally painted on the steel of the hallway was now peeling and covered with graffitti. Various phone numbers and pseudo-revolutionary slogans added a flare of destitution and anarchy to the formerly bleak corridors. The teen yawned and kept walking as he passed some drunken bum laying by one of the airlocks, his hair wild with uncleanliness. Poor old man.... Probably got kcked out of his apartment by some fuckin' corporate revolutionaries.
The blonde Khristian boy knocked on the door of one of the apartments, M-119. "Hold on!" was yelled from behind the door. The boy adjusted his glasses as the door slid open to reveal another blonde Khristian boy on the other side.
"Oh, hey John. You really need to uh, not knock like a policeman."
"Sorry about that Calogero."
"It's alright dude."
John entered the relatively clean room, dressed in black and red, with neat stacks of books and clothes lined along the walls and peices of old newspapers lying in the middle of the floor. "So yeah, I was wondering if you had any food you could give me," asked John.
"Fuck dude, you eat all my fucking food."
"Well, it's not like I can find a job, we don't have any schools any more, 'cause all the adults are too busy trying to keep this damn place from falling apart."
"Yeah, I really want to get out of this fucking prison and see the universe."
John sat down on a broken chair, it's back bent over to one side and it's wheels all missing. "Yeah I've always wanted to see Mars..." he mused.
"Dude, you know what I want?" asked Calogero.
"What?"
"Some pot."
"Dude, whatever, I don't really want any. I don;t like the thought of my lungs being on fire. We need some women here that aren't fucking whores, our society's so fucking degenerated man."
"What the hell are you talking about John? Since when has Khristendom had fucking morals? We're like the damn scum of the universe and here we are isolated in this fucking shithole and all we have left to do is feel good about our miserable lives before some tragedy happens."
"Yeah, whatever, it doesn;t really matter Cal. Nothing really matters anymore, nothing has every really mattered. No matter how hard people work and toil for glory and wealth and shit, they all die, everything's just a fucking waste man. Not just us, but the entire fucking universe. I me--"
"John, how can you say that, you've never been off this damn station in your 15 year existence."
"Shut the hell up, it's not my fault you can't scrap enough money together for a 1/20 of an ounce. All you ever want to do is go somewhere and smoke or sit in here and drink, you're just going to make your life shorter man."
"Fuck you. At least I can get girls man."
"Yeah all those STD infested chicks, that's lovely, can't even get medicine here regurly, fucking stupid politicans."
"Dude, John, we really need to get out of here..."
Calogero leans back in his chair as John just sits silently, resting his chin on his hand as they both sit back and think for a few minutes...
"Have you ever wondered if kids generations back talked like us and had the same problems we do?"