RE: mission proposal to the specialists aboard the Prometheus on its voyage to the Engineer world of LV_233. Vickers, Janek and Shaw in attendance, with the briefing led by MLB pitcher, and Giants #19, Kenny "Fucking" Powers.
Firstly, keep an eye on that dick head android, David. That sneaky sumbitch is spending way too much time learning. No one needs to learn ancient languages, especially a fruity robot. He looks like that Australian dude. What's his name? David Bowie. Never cared for that guy. It's not rock, not at all. Plus, that fucking toaster likes to sass. He talks back. I'd fucking smack that thin-lipped grin off his face. Dick.
Next, before you land on any planet, after spending four trillion dollars of Weyland's money, you may want to like rotate arounds it for a while. I know I would. Get to know the weather patterns, identify any hostile environments, seismic activity. All that shit. I mean Janek, you don't want to land your sweet ass space vehicle on a planet you just got to right? Take your time, at least a few weeks (as recommended to me by the Extra-Stellar Commission - you know scientists). You don't want one of them space worms snatching at your crotch like in Empire Strikes Back. I mean, you are not no Han Solo, that's for damn sure. Vickers, you keep saying you the one in control, what with your hot tight ass and shit, those bodacious tatas - you may want to tee up with Janek and square that shit away.
[Speaking of which Vickers, I'm getting over a relationship, but you can like stack and rack on me when you get that itch in your nether regions. That'd be alright. Kenny's got the power to make you cosmic cum all over the damned place.]
Ok, now let's get the mission straight. You all need to decide, right now, that you want to actually come back. Unless all 17 of you have a death wish, maybe call a few huddles and say, 'Hey, let's do like our research and shit, get some rocks and skeletons and get back home. Let's not all die because we refused to make good decisions.' When I was closing games with the Merman, I would drop those truth bombs all over the dug, right. Let the team know to back this train up. I'm looking at you, Shaw. You're the scientist, I figure you know all about that scientific method and performing all sorts of protocols and procedures and shit and not run into an ancient alien facility like rhesus monkeys on jamboree.
Rule number whatever: never take off a helmet on a foreign body, no matter what the read-outs say. The human eye is good (and I can hit a goddamned fly off a fence from 60 feet), but you will not be able to tell if there are microbes or deadly alien world viruses, or small-dicked asshole space weeds that'll shoot pearls into your mouth. Unless you like that sort of thing....Vickers. I'm up here, baby. Eye contact.
And, hey, don't just touch shit because its there. That's what digital cameras are for. It's 2093, we got the right technology instead of carrying around ancient alien body parts in duffel bags.
If you see any alien snakes, don't touch the little fuckers. Let them be. Do we touch snakes in the 'Bama. No. That's why we have brains. David, man, stop looking at me with those dead fucking eyes, bro. You do NOT want any of this.
A controlled mission means we work together, listen to one another and follow some basic scientific guidelines. We do not prance off on our own, split up while on a planet light years away from Earth. Let's do some drills before we go off into dark caverns.
Oh, and take weapons, dummy. Second amendment is in full effect in outer space. I looked it up.
Most government agencies, by the year 2014, know pretty damn well that any lab work can be done outside of the main habitation of the Prom. It's like when you get crabs. You just don't bring them back home to the family. You stay in a hotel for a few nights and let the beds take care of it. They transfer right over like little migrant workers.
The captain doesn't leave the ship, ever. In fact, a core group should stay well away from the landing party. That's why they make doors.
Don't kick bodies laying right outside that already fucked with a camera and are looking a lot like Regan from The Exorcist. Shoot that piece of shit a few times in the head before you get within tickle distance.
In fact, I'm looking at Dave over there eye-fucking me, so you know what? You just stay outside for the duration of the mission. I get a sick vibe from this asshole. Is there like a kill switch? If anything that James Cameron or Michael Bay taught us in their documentaries is that robots are only destined to kill their maker. Fuck this dick.
If things happen to look like they are stockpiling an arsenal of shit in climate controlled rooms that are locked and have a pile of dead warriors outside of it - you probably want to live that shit alone. That's like a 'do not enter' sign. Maybe send some of those laser eggs along.
If things go south, leave that fucking planet. There's no need to hang around and yell at one another. You know who are the smart ones? The ones that cut and run motherfucker.
All of that being said, have a great mission and hopefully those Engineers have nice taut asses and luscious tits. Peace out!
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