Idle Hands shitter!

Seems that while condemned to eke out a life on frozen barren shithole planet Grizzit’s civilian outpost, one of the colonists quit this bitch due North into the wilds. Now I’ve been tasked to retrieve him, but I say Why? If I had walked in on this scene of lotion, a box of tissues, and the freshly cracked spine on a brand new edition of War of the Worlds I’d have promptly pirouetted into the tundra as well. You have to ask yourself: Is it the titillating tale of giant lasers transforming humanity into a big goo smear, or the triumph of tiny bacteria over alien invaders that does it for them? I’m not prepared to state that either option would give me the gasms.

You know what? Who can really say, afterall maybe these were the deserter’s own leavings. Maybe his real final straw was the toxic positivity of the encouraging cartoon on the floor of the outpost’s second shitter.