Tempus Fugit
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Oct 23, 2001
- Messages
- 53
- Points
- 0
TUESDAY:
Dear Diary:
Well, I've done it at last. I sent in my application to the computer dating service. It shouldn't be too hard to match me up with someone. I'm a pretty normal guy. I'm only owrried with my answer to one question. For "Hobbies," I put down "destroying civilization as we know it." I hope, dear diar, that they won't think I'm bragging.
THREE WEEKS LATER:
Still no word from the dating service. I can't understand it. But I think I'll get a date soon. They seemed very cooperative after I threatened to reduce their building and everyone in it to a charred, smoking mass.
FRIDAY:
I called my computer date tonight. Her mother answered the phone. She didn't get my name, but she must have known who I was because I heard her yell, "Helen, ya got a heavy breather on the phone here!" We're all set for tomorrow night. I'll pick her up at 7:30 PM. I'm so excited! I wonder if she enjoys setting fire to small planets as much as I do.
SATURDAY:
What an evening! When Helen, my date, answered the door and saw me for the first time, she wnet pale with delight and her knees went weak. Then she came to. She said she'd asked the dating service for someone tall, dark, and with an air of mystery, but that this was ridiclous! I wonder, dear diary, what she meant?
She went to get her sweater, and I chatted with her parents. I didn't like her dad much, so I vaporized him. Helen's mum didn't have much to say. She just made a few gurgling sounds. I said it had been a pleasure meeting her, and left the house with her daughter.
8:00 PM:
I asked Helen where she wanted to go. She suggested a movie. But after I choked her a little, she decided that a raiding party would be much more fun. Dear diary, she's so cute when she's blue and gasping! Well, dear diary, we took off in my space probe, and I must say, Helen is a good sport. When I hit hyperspace without telling her first, she was only a little sick. Those cracked ribs will be fine in a couple weeks, too, so no hard feelings.
8:30 PM:
I took her to my favourite restaurant. Helen was a little overwhelmed by the ritzy atmosphere of the place. So I took great pains to introduce her to all my friends as they flopped, slithered, flew, and rolled over to our table.
She was speachless with gratitude. In fact, she was so excited that she couldn't eat a thing - even when I offered to kill it first.
10:00 PM:
After supper, dear diary, I cut loose and showed Helen what a really good time is. I must have laid waste to at least 30 thriving civilizations throughout the galaxy! What a blast!
12:00 MIDNIGHT:
Helen didn't say much on the way home, dear diary, but I think I knew how she felt. She kept staring deep into my vents and saying "I don't believe this!" over and over again. What a gal!
Whe we said good night at her place, I thought about giving her a good-night kiss. But I felt it was too soon to risk electrocuting her yet. We shook hands. Hers were shaking a lot.
I'll never forget her parting words, dear diar. She said, "Thanks, Bart. See you around." I told her my name was Darth. "Right," she said. "Anything you say."
I told her I'd call again soon. And I promised that next time we'd play "Pop Goes the Planet". Funny, dear diary, she didn't seem too enthusiatic. She just put her hand over her mouth, ran inside, and slammed the door.
ONE MONTH LATER:
I've called and called, but Helen never seems to be at home. In fact, her phone number must have changed 15 times! This last time, the telephone operator told me that Helen left a message that she'd moved to a different universe.
Was it something I said?
Dear Diary:
Well, I've done it at last. I sent in my application to the computer dating service. It shouldn't be too hard to match me up with someone. I'm a pretty normal guy. I'm only owrried with my answer to one question. For "Hobbies," I put down "destroying civilization as we know it." I hope, dear diar, that they won't think I'm bragging.
THREE WEEKS LATER:
Still no word from the dating service. I can't understand it. But I think I'll get a date soon. They seemed very cooperative after I threatened to reduce their building and everyone in it to a charred, smoking mass.
FRIDAY:
I called my computer date tonight. Her mother answered the phone. She didn't get my name, but she must have known who I was because I heard her yell, "Helen, ya got a heavy breather on the phone here!" We're all set for tomorrow night. I'll pick her up at 7:30 PM. I'm so excited! I wonder if she enjoys setting fire to small planets as much as I do.
SATURDAY:
What an evening! When Helen, my date, answered the door and saw me for the first time, she wnet pale with delight and her knees went weak. Then she came to. She said she'd asked the dating service for someone tall, dark, and with an air of mystery, but that this was ridiclous! I wonder, dear diary, what she meant?
She went to get her sweater, and I chatted with her parents. I didn't like her dad much, so I vaporized him. Helen's mum didn't have much to say. She just made a few gurgling sounds. I said it had been a pleasure meeting her, and left the house with her daughter.
8:00 PM:
I asked Helen where she wanted to go. She suggested a movie. But after I choked her a little, she decided that a raiding party would be much more fun. Dear diary, she's so cute when she's blue and gasping! Well, dear diary, we took off in my space probe, and I must say, Helen is a good sport. When I hit hyperspace without telling her first, she was only a little sick. Those cracked ribs will be fine in a couple weeks, too, so no hard feelings.
8:30 PM:
I took her to my favourite restaurant. Helen was a little overwhelmed by the ritzy atmosphere of the place. So I took great pains to introduce her to all my friends as they flopped, slithered, flew, and rolled over to our table.
She was speachless with gratitude. In fact, she was so excited that she couldn't eat a thing - even when I offered to kill it first.
10:00 PM:
After supper, dear diary, I cut loose and showed Helen what a really good time is. I must have laid waste to at least 30 thriving civilizations throughout the galaxy! What a blast!
12:00 MIDNIGHT:
Helen didn't say much on the way home, dear diary, but I think I knew how she felt. She kept staring deep into my vents and saying "I don't believe this!" over and over again. What a gal!
Whe we said good night at her place, I thought about giving her a good-night kiss. But I felt it was too soon to risk electrocuting her yet. We shook hands. Hers were shaking a lot.
I'll never forget her parting words, dear diar. She said, "Thanks, Bart. See you around." I told her my name was Darth. "Right," she said. "Anything you say."
I told her I'd call again soon. And I promised that next time we'd play "Pop Goes the Planet". Funny, dear diary, she didn't seem too enthusiatic. She just put her hand over her mouth, ran inside, and slammed the door.
ONE MONTH LATER:
I've called and called, but Helen never seems to be at home. In fact, her phone number must have changed 15 times! This last time, the telephone operator told me that Helen left a message that she'd moved to a different universe.
Was it something I said?
