enslaved in a Venusian mining camp. He left on a business trip and those dratted ETs came and grabbed him up. But never fear, he’s managed to get a message to us and has assured us that he’s bribed the guards to win his freedom, and he’s paid for passage on a rust-bucket smuggling ship headed for Earth – so he will be back soon!
In the meantime, it’s open floor time. You know the rules. The floor is now yours.
Mad Genius Club 
5 responses to “Chris Mc has been. . .”
The smugger, J&YHGTR%, was affectionately known to his crew and the rare passenger as “Don’t.” A multilingual pointy bot elucidated further. “Don’t trust him.” “Don’t turn your back on him.” “Don’t pay him until he delivers the goods and you inspect them.”
Chris eyed the bot. “Er, does that mean I shouldn’t have paid for my ticket in advance?”
The bot shook its pointy head. “Oh . . . how unfortunate.”
“But does he deliver, the goods, I mean. Does Don’t deliver the goods?” Chris considered himself the smuggled goods. It seemed a possible loophole and faint hope.
“Would he be a smuggler if he simply stockpiled it all?” the bot asked. “I assure you, the goods will be passed along, just as soon as we reach the asteroid Eros.”
“Eros?” Chris gulped.
The bot nodded. “Sure. In a Venusian mining camp, slaves learn how to make holes. Well, on Eros…”
A large silver finger wrapped in a blue banner came down from the rusty shadows overhead and mashed the bot. The voice of the Author announced, “Wait a minute, we can’t go there, we’ll lose our G rating.”
A small black devil kicked the silver finger of fickle fate and said, “Yeah, but those books in plain brown wrappers sell like hotcakes. Try it before you knock it, okay?”
A white flag waved. A faint voice said, “Fourth wall violation! Someone get this back on track!”
“Eros. It’s an asteroid,” said the miraculously rebuilt pointy bot. “It’s the biggest swap mart and auction in your Solar System. I’m sure Don’t will get a good price for you.”
“But, but . . . Why doesn’t anyone on Earth know about this?” Chris was looking frantically about, as if he could find a door marked exit.
“Huh? The whole shebang is run by the Illuminati. The Chief Luminary of Eros, Sahara Hoty, is a member of the Supreme Council of the . . . Oh, wait, they’ve got everyone fooled into believing they don’t exist. Sorry. I forgot, please excuse my cultural faux pas.” The pointy bot rolled away, looking more embarassed than a metal covered contrivence ought to be capable of.
Just then the deck buckled and strobes began to flash. An eerie wail pierced the air and Chris’s ear drums. The pointy bot swivelled on its rockers and screeched, “It’s the Venusians!” before zipping straight up through an overhead panel and disappearing.
Chris swore he’d do anything before he’d go back to the Venusian mines.
“Is that true?” a voice asked behind his ear.
Chris spun around to find a… girl… he thought.
She tipped her head at him. “My name is JD&E@#SFUTS,” she said, “Junior!” She tipped her head the other direction. “Are you truly willing to do anything to avoid the Venusian mines?”