Disclaimer: This story is in no way tied to the Disco universe. It's also completely random, most sentences being on a whim. Feedback goes here.
Bob was a strange boy. From his first breath he was kicking ass and taking names, quite literally. Straight from the womb, Bob was a full grown man, fit for battle against the bloodthirsty Persians. Alas, with no Persians to slaughter, he turned his Testosterone fueled rage against the attending medical staff, ripping them to peices with his own hands.
"OH MY GAWD! BOB, STOP!" His mother wailed like a horse on heat. Bob turned to her with a wild look on his face. "What?! Who are you to order me about, woman?!"he walked up to her and picked her from the bed, holding her easily with one hand. You see, Bob was superhuman. In fact, he wasn't human at all. He was... A KLINGON!
"KAPLAH!" he shouted, throwing his mother out of the window and breaking down the door. Alarms went off, and thick steel blast doors began to drop all throughout the hospital. "Warning," a soothing female voice said over the PA, "A superhuman man-baby has infiltrated the facility. Code Blue. Code Blue. Security teams to the bridge!"
Bob roared in fury as he smashed his way through a blast door, crushing a team of guards on the other side. "ARGHLEBARGLEBLARF!"One of the Dog-Men screamed, as he fired his Three Hundred and Fourty-Two Milimetre Full Bore Rail Gun with Red Dot sight and heartbeat sensor into the wall across from him. Bob quickly assessed the situation before him. The Dog man was firing in regular bursts. Further down the hall, the blast door was opening and closing rapidly. Between the two was a ring of children dancing.
If he didn't time this right, he could end up with some really nasty scars. Or worse.
With a cry of "RAAAAAAAAARGHLEBLOOOOOP!" Bob tackled the Dogman to the ground, wrestling the gun from his hands and reducing it's head to a red mess with the resulting hailstorm of magnetically charged doom. He got to his feet, and look towards the dancing children. They were doing some sort of Ice Ice Baby rendition, popping and locking like pros. He had to get past them... But how?
His eyes were drawn to the gun in his hands, and a smile crept across his face, ending in a wide grin. "I CAME TO KICK *** AND CHEW BUBBLEGUM, AND I'M ALL OUT OF RUBBERISED CHEWING MATTER!" he shouted, closely dodging a lawsuit. The children looked at him in horror as he raised the gun down the hall towards them. Time slowed down as his finger tightened on the trigger, finally depressing it to the point that the on board CPU woke up, had a shower, fixed itself bacon and eggs for breakfast (with a cup of freshly squeezed orange juice of course, he just couldn't start the day without one) got the day's newspaper from the corner store, read through the job advertisements, sighed realising he wasn't going to find another job with his qualifications, and set off the firing mechanism.
Just as Bob had planned, a passing dimensional traveller had popped his head in for a squiz. His name was Frank, a rather normal traveller and businessman, who enjoyed selling his fine homemade watches to other dimensions. Looking around for potential customers, he had the great fortune of meeting a nice Tungten slug, who chose to remain unamed, as it made it's way through his brain, exploding onto the inside of his skull. These days just got harder and harder.
Bob took the children's confusion and ran with it. Grabbing the state of mind by the neck, he flung it at the wall, causing a rapid decompression, and sucking him out into the cold, bland, tasteless bowl of chicken soup that was deep space.
He could see the hospital drifting away, and for the first time in his life... Bob felt alone.
Luckily for Bob, it was Mardi Gras on planet Qweeb, so his was rescued by a passing Slovak on his way to the festivities. He had a long drawn out conversation with the drunken Slovak, mostly about Tacos and Canadian Ice Hockey, but also a topic very close to Bob's heart.
Yes, they talked about the metric system. Bob went on for hours about how doing things in groups of tens made the universe a much simpler place. In fact, he was certain that it was the cause of the current complete galactic peace.
It was ironic, however, that as Bob spoke about it, far off in a distant star cluster, an evil Empirical race bent on Metric destruction was plotting the disruption of that very peace. "Power the Yard Cannon!" Evil Overlord Foot demanded to his minions of Inches. They scurried to do their master's bidding hitting various 'On' buttons. As the Cannon powered up, Evil Overlord Foot made a daring speech. "For too long has the Empire been under the foot of the great Metric Alliance! But no more! No more will we be forced to do mathematical conversions to that devilish system! We shall strike back with Imperial fury, and show the Metrics who the real Measurement is!" An Inch nodded to him and he grinned evilly. "FIRE THE YARD CANNON!"
With these words a bolt of molten conversion was lobbed from the cannon, travelling many million trillion leagues, heading towards the Metric capitol of Metr?. Billions of Metric lives would be lost upon it's arrival.
But it didn't make it's target. For passing at that very moment, against odds even a golden robot could not wail, a flying Slovak Van was passing.
// You don't want to sell me End-sticks. You want to wait patiently for the next chapter. *waves hand*