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The Gay Astronaut And The College Professor

This is the first Google Image result for “Gay Astronaut”

This all began at Chuck Wendig’s blog. This post in particular. You go to the website http://www.theyfightcrime.org/, it gives you a pair of characters, followed by the phrase “They fight crime!” Then you write a 1,000 word story about it. This was the duo that was dealt to me:

He’s a sword-wielding gay astronaut looking for a cure to the poison coursing through his veins. She’s a mistrustful belly dancing college professor living on borrowed time. They fight crime!

Here goes:

The gay astronaut held his sword to the college professor’s neck as her belly gyrated.

“Give me the antidote,” he said.

“I don’t trust you,” she said.

“Can you let me go now?” the tied-up criminal called from the floor.

“NO!” the spaceman and scholar said in unison.

How did it come to this?

FLASHBACK: The man walked across the stage and took his diploma from the dean. As of now, he was a graduate of astronaut school. Walking down the steps, back towards his peers, he thought to himself, “There are a lot of hot men here.” Later that night, as he was chopping up onions and parsnips with the sword his grandfather had given him, two realizations surfaced. The first—he was officially an astronaut. The second—he was officially gay. He was a gay astronaut. With a sword. He didn’t know he would one day fight crime.

FLASHBACK, WHICH OCCURS AT THE SAME TIME AS THE FIRST ONE: She walked across the stage and took money from whoever was giving it out. As of seven hours ago, she was a graduate of college professor school. As she walked down the thin strip, and back up, she moved her belly in rhythmic motions, side to side, up and down, and all around. She thought to herself, “I’m good at making my belly dance.” Two realizations surfaced. The first—she was officially a college professor. The second—she could officially belly dance. She was a belly dancing college professor. Without trust in anyone. She didn’t know she would one day fight crime.

ANOTHER FLASHBACK, FURTHER FORWARD IN TIME THAN THE PREVIOUS TWO: He was at a bar. She was at a bar. They both went up for a drink at the same time. It was busy, they weren’t being served. He made a witty remark to her: “Who’s leg do you gotta hump to get a drink around here?”

She looked disgusted. He added, “It’s okay, I can say stuff like that, I’m gay.”

“That’s cool. I can belly dance,” she said.

“I’m also an astronaut.”

“I’m also a college professor.”

They would have made out right then and there, but you have to remember, the astronaut was gay. Making out with a woman was gross to him.

They did stay up talking that night, though. Almost till dawn. They talked about some of the things covered in the first two flashbacks, and also things that didn’t have to do with being gay, belly dancing, sword fighting, mistrusting people, going into space, or achieving tenure at a small, but respectable state university.

When it was almost dawn, a bottle crashed through the window. The gay astronaut looked down at the street, and saw an intoxicated man throwing bottles at buildings and publically urinating.

Public intoxication. Vandalism. Public urination. A king-hell triumvirate of crimes.

He said, “College professor, I know you don’t trust me, but would you like to fight some crime right now?”

“I really shouldn’t, being that I’ve only known you for a few hours and you’re a gay astronaut wielding an extremely sharp and dangerous weapon, but why the hell not?”

They hatched a scheme.

On the street, the drunk man noticed a woman walk out of the alley. Her naked belly was shaking and moving, rippling like Jell-O. Real Jell-O, not the generic kind. He stopped throwing bottles to watch. The pause was long enough for the gay astronaut to run up behind him and slice his head off.

With nothing but a churning abdomen and an extremely sharp metal edge, a criminal was handed his comeuppance.

“Well, I’ve got to get back to the university,” the college professor said.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” said the gay astronaut.

FLASHBACK, A FEW DAYS BEFORE THE FIRST PART OF THE STORY: She was in the lab at the university, mixing chemicals together. He walked in. “How did you find me?” she asked.

“You told me you worked here,” he said.

Turns out the mistrustful belly dancing college professor couldn’t even trust herself to keep her beak shut.

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” she said. “It’s the middle of finals week.” She bent down to grab a vial out of the cabinet.

The gay astronaut grabbed one of the chemical mixtures. “What is this, Mountain Dew?” he asked as he took a sip.

“No, it’s poison, don’t drink–”

“Uh-oh,” he said, in a very gay way.

FLASHBACK, A DAY BEFORE THE BEGINNING OF THE STORY: They were sitting in the college professor’s lab.

“You know, you’re lucky that was a special delayed-reaction poison, and not a kill-you-instantly poison,” she said.

“What do you want from me? I’m a gay astronaut, not a college professor!”

“Well, hurry up and drink that antidote. I’m living on borrowed time here.”

As the gay astronaut put the cup to his lips, a crazed student burst in through the door, grabbed the cup, and ran out.

“Egads! More crime to fight!” the spaceman shrieked.

“How are we going to find him?” asked the belly dancing college professor.

Before he could reply, the gay astronaut noticed something: short, thin lines of liquid leading out the door. Almost as if the liquid had dripped out of a container that was being carried at a rapid rate. They followed the trail and found the student in the basement of the library.

ONE MORE FLASHBACK, TO THE PART OF THE STORY BEFORE ALL THE FLASHBACKS: Reread the first six lines of this story, and then proceed, for here on out, the flashbacks are over. Everything is happening NOW.

NOW: The gay astronaut cut off the college professor’s head. He drank the antidote. The antidote was really just more poison. Kill-you-instantly poison. The gay astronaut dropped dead. The student, tied up on the floor, starved to death in the basement of the library. The end.

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  1. March 21, 2013 at 9:41 pm

    Several members of the Phonyon Staff do not trust straight astronauts. Diapered or otherwise.

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