In a galaxy far, far nearby, a plot took off at warp speed…

Ensign Cutie: We’re approaching the nebula, Captain.

Captain James G. Tightsuit adjusts the seat of his jumper and approaches the screen.

Captain: What is it, Ensign?

Ensign Cutie crosses her legs in her too short skirt to avoid everyone on deck seeing her underwear.

Ensign: It looks like a series of word clouds, Captain. And are those… punctuation particles? I suggest we approach at half-impulse to investigate.

Captain: Ooh, punctuation particles are so pretty! Let’s send an editor probe instead to get a quick look.

Skeleton: I wouldn’t do that if I were you. This nebula is barely formed. If you send an editor in, it’s going to become unstable. It could explode! It could take down this whole ship and create a tear in the universe that would turn time inside out!

Captain: Seriously, why are you even on deck? Aren’t you a doctor?

Skeleton: I’m in charge of all probes on this ship. I suggest a writer probe. It’s the only way to navigate through this mess and get to the other side with our hides intact!

Captain: Alright Ensign, send the probe.

Ensign: Probe away, Sir.

Captain: Oh no! It exploded on arrival!

Skeleton: It wasn’t ready! It was a self-doubting new author probe! Words are flying everywhere!

Captain: Dammit, Skeleton! All we can do now is fire the laser best-sellers to blast a hole through the mess! Fire!

Skeleton: NOOOO! The only thing more unstable than self-doubting new author probes are self-doubting new author probes confronted by best-seller lasers! Look! The space-time continuum is starting to tear!

Captain: Where? You mean those blinky lights that look like they’re from a Christmas tree?

Skeleton: Yup. Those.

Captain: Hard to port! Warp factor 5! Engage!

Ensign Cutie adjusts her afro.

Ensign: It’s too late, you jumpsuited wedgie-picker. Everybody knows that best-seller lasers and new author probes are a volatile combination. Oh look. A reality tv novel quasar. Sweet mother of…


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