Badass Space Dragon - Duck's Pond

But I’m still thirsty!!!

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But… but…

Duck’s Bar has been the nexus of our crisis and the origin of storms
Just the place to hopelessly encounter time and then came

[CLOSED BY UNIZONE GENERAL ORDER 66]

 

On the plus side, I don’t seem to have paid up my tab that I can recall…

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Typical for my luck: the bank’s still open long past time the watering hole closes up.

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Hey, I thought you were a clank; now you just seem to be one of those humans in the military? What gives?

Savaric: Hey Duck, how can you be closing? The sign says “Open 24 hours”!

Duck: Not in a row, bee-man. [spits in a glass. stares at it. puts it on a shelf] Now pay your @#$!ing tab.

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Relocated and renovated, the swinging doors of The Pond are open again.

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[Lazlo gets a gander at the fine object perched atop the head of one Watford Gap and briefly flushes a mottled shade of viridian before regaining his composure.]

“Well worn, Gap! Now you’re taking the pith!”

[Was that right? The nuances of Galactic Common frequently elude poor Scuttle…]

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Spiffy, eh? Figured it might help me keep Charybdis British. Says inside this used to belong to some chap called Gonville.

That said, whilst’s a nice helmet - I’ve been enjoying polishing it this afternoon - I’m concerned I might have done something rather rash - the Moral Flexibility could have done with having some work done on her, and here I am without a shekel to my name.

Ah well, no sense crying over spilt Benymede, at least I won’t die a hatless bastard.

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Dontcha worry, Lazlo, that’s a right proper claws to use. It’s not like you said “taking the mackey,” which is right out.

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[Lazlo, excited to delve into the nuances of language, screens through his copy of ‘Galactic Common and You! A Space Lobster Primer’, wrestling with the nuances of translation.]

“Hm. What about ‘taking the mackerel’, Mr. MacMichael? Would that be an acceptable phrasing here? And allow me a moment to express my approval for your taste in snacks. Mind if I join ya?”

[Lazlo produces another oversized cigar from somewhere and - once again - mangles it handily with his mouthparts.]

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I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow morn and find out if I’m dead.

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It really wasn’t as exciting or dramatic as I thought it would be

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You obviously don’t have an automated system that reads these things and dresses you accordingly…

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Which side of the International Date Line does Alaska lie on, again?

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