Tuesday, June 11, 2013

All is Never Quiet on the Western Front

I wish I could say that everything was quiet out on the Western Wilds this morning, but alas, things are never quiet on the Western Front. (Not even historically.)*
My lawn ship kept bumping into a steady barrage of asteroids and trash excreted by the messy Sycamore planets, not the least of which were puffball mines.
Being near the skylane, I had to watch for large transport vessels with solitary, sleepy pilots at the wheels. It was a clattering chore.

Cedar Flats, on the other hand, was very calm--deceptively calm, it turned out. They came at me with the little-understood sinus attack and I was forced to retreat to the fortress for supplies. Since I had no white flag to raise (I had used it already at the onset of the sneeze barrage) I was pursued and pelted with cedar histamines. Whew. What a morning!

*Yes, that's a thinly-veiled allusion to California.
Go ahead and protest, Californians, because in doing so, you will only prove my point.

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