For the record - since Cedarbird wasted my 'changing name' joke, it's all spelled the same this time. And now . . . MORE POOP!
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1 Jan 2226.
Another six months had passed according to the reckoning of those ugly, gray 'human' creatures, and His Great Smelliness Pooperton was terrified of what was coming up as his shuttle approached the waiting diplomatic station.
After meeting the humans, further exploration led to the discovery of two other major races making their way out among the stars – some trumpeted-nose green things called Arceans and some faceless pink blobs referring to themselves as Korx. (And what kind of stupid name is 'Korx' anyway? Tackiness supreme, these mouthless wonders.) As the six major groups continued to expand into the waiting-to-be-raped galaxy, The Amazing, Illustrious Pooperton would become very upset that his people's growth was being hindered by these inferior beings.
Then Eleys would call, and his demeanor would change; he would blush to a fine, deep brown, and spend hours on the holovid with her, wishing he could somehow traverse the distance between them and be at her side – not thinking, of course, of the holoform projection protecting her from his might and true glory.
However, late in September, that sweet hunk of Altarian hotness approached her dear Pooperton with two proposals that piqued his interest. The first was to create a research treaty between their two great peoples, which the Odoriferous Emperor gladly agreed to. The second, however, excited him even further – Eleys proposed the creation of a United Planets organization, to keep everyone on the up-and-up and keep relations between the races (hopefully) more-or-less friendly.
And it was done; communiques were sent to each of the leaders of the great nations (and never mind those stupid, big-headed floppy Scottilingas – they weren't invited to the party because no-one could stand their faces) and the plans were set for a great meeting of all six rulers of their respective empires. Graciously, Eleys volunteered to finance and supply a diplomatic space station in neutral territory for the meeting. (And of course everyone agreed – anything to put a smile on that succulent honey's face.)
The Immeasurable, Immaculate Emperor Pooperton had spent the last three months having an exoskeleton built, to once again disguise his true nature and allow him to move less conspicuously among the annoyingly bipedal denizens of this galaxy – one that could portray his power and greatness without emitting foul smells.
And here he was, watching the docking couplings attach to the front of his diplomatic cruiser, the Porto-Potty. He carefully manipulated tendrils of himself down into the servos of his suit, moving it forward and trying to look as natural as possible hidden behind a body of plastic and metal. (To be honest, he looked more convincing than Kralax did as an actual living thing – what IS the deal with those Korx, anyway?)
The airlock opened and he slowly stepped down into the docking bay. Waiting for him was a royal Altarian guard, escorting their scrumptious leader to her first face-to-face meeting with her secret crush, the crappy being coming down the ramp. She hesitated a moment, blushing bright red, and extended her hand. 'The Great and Illustrious Pooperton, I have long waited for the day to meet you in person. It truly is a pleasure to welcome you aboard Babilonia Cinco.'
Poops trembled at the thought of the mechano-hand touching hers, but made it so with his controls, replying, 'Eleys, it is I who am honored to be here. I only hope that we can enjoy some time together . . . perhaps alone . . . in the midst of all this political intrigue.'
She leaned closer, and through the intake vents The Well-Formed and Perfectly Saturated Emperor could catch the sweet smell of her perfume. She responded, 'I'd like nothing better.'
He put out his arm and she took it, as they left the docking bay and moved towards the Great Hall Of Speaking Together And Crap, or GHOSTAC, where the nitty-gritty of this newly formed United Planets would play out. She continued, 'Kralax of Korx and Iso the 'supposedly' Wise have already arrived, and Lord Vega is docking as we speak. I guess we're just waiting on Alan Bradley. You'd think after he picked the date he'd have the decency to show up on time.'
Poops was gleeful. Anything to keep the ugly human away from his sweet, lovely Eleys.
