Spacemummy Log- Smarge 23rd, 7230
I was in the middle of a routine abduction of a septic tank in Nebraska, refilling on biomass for our spent compost reactor when we got a distress call from a contact named Acidexia. "Spacemummy, you got to help me. I was invited to stay at this house full of post-modern cyborg druggies, you know, the kind of people that I really enjoy. But it turns out they're like the Manson Family and they're crawling up my ass. I think the lead guy, who has half-marsupial DNA, tried to put his implants into me."
"Sounds serious Are they physically hurting you?"
"No, but they're spreading lies about me on the internet."
"I thought you were totally into that. I mean, bad publicity is better than none at all. This could really help your career." It sounded suspicious, but I did know that I'd gotten other distress calls in regards to this particular post-human. I had interacted with his avatars earlier and found him to be an interesting chap, with a few ideas I could appreciate. But others reported an egomaniacal crank capable of some substantial sparks. All the same, I didn't have time to fight flamewars on the internet, particularly defending people who had not taken any scars on the Usenet. Better to just let them die out on their own accord.
"But he's saying really mean insulting things."
"Yea, that's his modus. He'll tell you that your mother should have flushed you down the toilet, and on. Don't let it get to you. Stay in contact. Spacemummy out." I shrugged. Sounds like no permanent damage done. So we proceded on to mutilate some cattle and make some crop circles. That's when I received the next transmission.
"This is Acidexia again. I don't think I portrayed how terrible this is. He unloaded a massive dose of negativity on me while my mind was pliable with hallucinogens. I have psychic scars."
"That's bad. I've had bummer trips before and can relate." But I also knew that if you go looking for a freaky time, you will find it. In spades. In retrospect, it was a mistake to not reveal some of the secrets of karma and wish fulfillment. Most bad trips are the ones you make for yourself. Of course, I didn't ask to be beat up by a skinhead in Austin, Texas whilst enjoying a little snowflake. But I did wish for freaky and I got it. "I'll assign this top priority," I lied and signed off. I really wanted to just get back to my Midwest shennanigans.
Shortly thereafter, I got another transmission. I never got this much attention when I went looking for it. "This is Lumar. Quit thinking with your dick, you prick. That bitch rolled in like Goldilocks and proceded to slurp down all our sporridge. Then she called us ugly and stinky and pissed in all our beds."
"That doesn't sound like the reports of Acidexia that I've heard."
"Then the bitch stole a bunch of vitamins which she probably thought was our stash."
"Stealing is bad. No doubt about it, but I'm not getting enough facts here. Until then, I reserve judgment."
"You asshole, you condemn me and then side with that bippy cause she wags her tits in your face," and on until I cut him off. He may have a point. He may even be right, but I don't like the attitude.
Acidexia calls in again. "So I'm just following up, making sure you don't believe any of the lies about me."
"Is it true that you partook of the hospitality there?"
"Sure, but he was so old I couldn't bear looking at him." Being 36 going on 4003, I took offense to this. I forgot Acidexia was 18. She was acting like it.
I had enough. After receiving communications from a dozen or so other contacts, I was convinced the truth of the matter lie in bad manners on both sides. I mean, the Peloponnesian War was started over basically a breach of protocol.
"How are the weapons coming, comrades?" I turned to the other Spacemummies on board. They were making meatloafs from the mutilated cows and spent fuel from the compost reactor. Not for eating, but for dropping 60 mm shells of the stuff. The victim would have to choose their own wine to go with it.
"Meatloaf ready."
"Track both parties down through their IP addresses." I ordered the bombardier to hit them both with the meatloaf. "Death from a bovine!"
"But SM, I thought these were allies."
"Hit em with the orgone gun afterwards to show there's no harm intended. Then set a course for Washington. We need to be there before Katherine Harris shows up."