Considering all the obnoxious byproducts of humankind in the last millennia, you'd think the worst of them would have been discarded centuries ago. I glared at the tin in my hand, stamped on both sides with the legend 'Spam'.
I sighed and tossed the ration can to Tetze, who caught it with his deft mouth tentacles. Sometimes I envy his flexible digits, both the number of clusters he has on his face, head and limbs, and the speed with which he can employ them; although his skin resembling upchucked sperm rat...not so much.
He kicked my ass in basic during the offensive hand-to-hand module with just his face clusters. A couple duties later some wet end recruit irritated him; he heaved a power lifter over his head, all two tons of it, and threw it at the guy.
You could say I respect him.
I know it's a good thing we salvaged the ration stores and field gear from the wreckage of our escape craft, but every night around chow time it pisses me off again. I hate Spam. I snapped the portable field stove open, and set it on my footlocker.
"Only two cans left," my bunkmate Rrrril hissed through his beak as we all sat down to eat.
"Don't worry," grunted Tetze. "Are other options."
I paused mid-bite. Around the circle everyone was intent on their food: super fast Qzetl with his elongated legs, telepathic supergenius Gini with her over sized brain, Rrrril with his wings perfect for aerial surveillance, and then the mighty Tetze, casting a rapacious eyestalk at plain old vanilla human me.
"Think I'll go check out the crash site again," I said. "There may be a few more cases of Spam we missed."
Opening: S. Smart.....Continuation: Sarah from Hawthorne