“Hey Space Cowboy, howya feeling?”
José is lying back down on his bunk, holding on with both hands. “¡Carumba! It’s what you say when you don’t know what to say. Has anyone seen my head? I can’t seem to find it.”
Beth is sitting up in her bunk on the other side of the tiny room. “Did you have fun last night?”
“I think so. Seemed like fun at the time. Now I’m not so sure. Owww….”
“Well, get your action on Jackson as we’d better bust a move before we’re shanghai’d into cleanup duty with the rest of the hungover proles.”
José touches his head gingerly. “What happened to my face?”
“You don’t remember my good buddy Ed?”
“Mierda. That ass. He sure put the ‘tard’ in ‘fucktard’. I don’t like fighting.”
“Heh, he’s probably having a harder time waking up today than you are. Finally got to just deck him.” She flexes an arm. “Felt good.”
José rolls over on his belly. “Alright. Now what?”
“Well, while you and Ms. Titty were tripping the light fantastic, I made a pizza. It’s in a box in the fridge. You are going to get off your ass-hangover, and we’re going to deliver it to Elron and get us off this stinking rock.”
“Ah, right. The Domino’s Pizza Rapid Deployment Force.” He groans. “Total destruction delivered in 30 minutes or less, guaranteed…” he mumbles into his pillow.
Beth slaps him on the ass. “Get up Buster! We’ve got stuff to do!”
“Nice shiner you got there.”
“I don’t know if this is a hangover, or if I’ve woken up in some asshole version of hell.”
The pair is in a ‘bug rolling across the dusty martian plain.
“Please stop making this thing bounce.”
The ‘bug tops a small rise and they are both surprised to cast a gaze on what looks like a burnt spaceship wreck with a few figures staggering around nearby it. Beth flips the comms to scan all frequencies while they roll up to the debris.
A person in a blackened space suit staggers towards the windscreen of the ‘bug. Through the radio they hear…
“Help us… we need…. cocktails. And Oxygen.”