Grabbing The Edge Of A Kick Ass Black Hole

I’m happily into part one of my new Space Opera (yes, capitalised, it means that much to me; a proper noun in my own weird world) when I make my first real mistake.

It doesn’t matter that Planet 9 will take a million whatever years to get to, even if TeamIndus find a way before anyone else. I, my friends, had found a way. A blinding time warp; easy! What on this newly evacuated planet Earth was I thinking? I tried my Yorkshire Tea (other teas are available but they’re crap) and, no, the milk wasn’t off.

Planet 9, people much cleverer than me, believe, is gaseous and freezing cold. Well, it would be, wouldn’t it? Waste of time swapping it with Pluto if you ask me but hey ho, we all have our opinions.

Why would my last space cadet, her sarky AI, and Shifter engineer, want to go there? They’d freeze. Plot hole? What plot hole. A big f****r, that’s what.

Anyway, I did a workaround. Yes, you guessed it. I invented my own starstruck universe, the ‘Minstrels’ galaxy. How did it find its name? I’ll tell you below, in a short extract.

‘Poppy looks amused. She lightly swishes her lush hair around. Just once. Any more and it would be very annoying. 
“Who named these galaxies?” 
Harry appears on screen, dressed in a Harris tweed jacket, leather patches at the elbows. She sits behind a large mahogany desk. 
“The Ancient Greeks coined the term ‘Milky Way’ as it resembled milky things, to them, anyway. ‘Minstrels’ was named after a bag of chocolate treats, by a scientist after necking half a bottle of Jägermeister, and publishing it in a scientific peer review.” 
Poppy looks visibly shocked, her mouth wide open for effect. 
“And this name was universally accepted?” 
Harry retains her ‘serious professor’ look. 
“He owned the publication. That and a couple of cheap lifestyle mags.” She looks fondly at her jacket.
“But that, of course, is all academic now.”’

Namaste, people of Earth and beyond.

Benny Sunlight

If I didn’t annoy you too much, please press the green heart; thank you!

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.