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No Peace in Space

John Tinney
Sep 13 · 4 min read

Masturbation is still possible in a spacesuit. Never underestimate the power of a horny woman to get herself off. A wee bit of ingenuity is all it takes. The Moon’s boring enough without being able to rub one or two out. Once you’ve seen the view, there’s nothing else. No football, no pub, no dancings, no Wi-Fi, no cinema, no American flag.

We only stopped on the Moon to take stock and get a few selfies. It had been an intense forty minutes what with storming Faslane and commandeering one of the spaceships that were escaping the ecological and war-torn disaster zone known as Earth. All the richest and most powerful, with a few token eggheads to operate the ships, were set to leave us all behind to swim to the pub and bite each other’s jugulars for a loaf. Thankfully we got wind of their nefarious plans after the hack on the White House and found out these scumbags were set to take off to a system of planets in another universe.

‘Whit you daein, Caroline?’ Tam asked, swaggering into the barracks and invading Caroline’s precious space.

‘Am writing.’

‘Writing!’ he scoffed, taking a drink from his bottle of Chardonnay. ‘Fuck sake, man. There’s hunners ae drink oan this hing. Whit ye writing fir?’

‘So ah don’t twist a knife in you until you collapse like an anvil through a fuckin paddling pool.’

‘Jesus! Whit’s up wae you?’ Kaz saw Tam being Tam: the moron’s moron.

‘Leave her be, Tam. You know Caroline needs her space.’

‘Aw, awright,’ Tam said. ‘Ah’ll leave you two lovebirds tae it.’

‘Did you have tae bring they twats?’ Caroline asked Kaz after Tam made himself scarce.

‘We needed the manpower tae take oot they guards.’

‘Even Dundernut?’

‘Dundernut’s taught me how tae shoot that gun.’

‘Aye, but he’s called Dundernut fir a reason…we could be daein wae mair lassies oan this flying fart chamber.’

‘Jodie, Laura and Karen are here.’

‘Right.’

‘Whit?’

‘You know whit. You could throw a party in their skulls and still hiv room fir a five-a-side.’

‘That scientist burd seems awright.’

‘Aye, she is. But it’s hard tae truly connect wae a prisoner when you’re the wan holding them prisoner.’

‘Maybe we should release her then. Ah mean, where’s she gonnae run tae? We’re flying through space, man…’

Kaz leaned in for a kiss and Caroline reciprocated until she saw Kaz’s joggies coming to life. She needed to keep writing. She’d already given herself six orgasms in the last four hours. The motivation to write might wane after a seventh.

‘You want tae…’

‘Want tae whit?’ Caroline said.

‘You know, have a quick pump and that?’

‘It’s no sexy when you say that.’ Kaz’s puppy dog eyes were not going to melt her knickers off. Not today. They’d been going out for far too many months for that to work automatically.

‘How’s the captain’s log goan anywey?’

‘It’d be better if ah had a bit of space tae get through it.’

‘We’re floating in space.’

‘You’ll be floating in a space in a minute if you don’t leave me alone.’

Kaz huffed, swore under his breath and looked for a safe space to treat his blue balls. The isolation chamber was occupied by Smiddy and Charlie smoking a blunt, so he locked himself in the bathroom with the broken gravity button and masturbated with his head touching the ceiling. He could get used to this. The only real concern was catching it all when the time came.

All the rockets pile into the space shuttle. We’ve kidnapped a few scientists to get us off the ground and out into space. The notion of human beings living and thriving on Earth is over but I’m content with entropy doing its thing. Entropy and the ensuing Mad Max chaos enables us to graduate from the occasional swedge and chibbing to full-blown murder. For me, it’s a seamless transition. First rule of the jungle: I’m the queen. You don’t get to leave me behind like I’m some proletariat skidmark. My stock in life is not a reflection of my rich interior world.

‘Whit ye daein?’ Jodie asked, bursting in and destroying Caroline’s psychobabble.

‘Am writing.’

‘Writing! Whit ye writing fir? We’ve got a joint oan the go!’

‘Writing helps me stave aff cabin fever.’

‘Whit’s cabin fever? Kin ah catch it?’ Fuck me sideways. Just take the laptop to the toilet, open a new Word document and try not to kill Jodie.

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John Tinney

Written by

The Idiot's idiot, modest genius, Glaswegian.

The Junction

The Junction is a digital crossroads devoted to stories, culture, and ideas. Our interests are legion.

John Tinney

Written by

The Idiot's idiot, modest genius, Glaswegian.

The Junction

The Junction is a digital crossroads devoted to stories, culture, and ideas. Our interests are legion.

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